INTRO  D  U   C   T   I  O  N 


LITERATURE     OF     EUROPE 


IN   THE   FIFTEENTH,   SIXTEENTH,  AND   SEVENTEENTH   CENTURIES. 


BY 

HENRY    HALL  AM,    F.  R.  A.  S., 

CORRESPONDING  MEMBER    OF    THE    ACADEMY    OP    MORAL    AND    POLITICAL    SCIENCES 
IN    THE    FRENCH    INSTITUTE. 


"  De  modo  autem  bujusmodi  historic  conscribendsa,  illud  imprimis  monemua,  ut  materia  el  copia  ejus,  non 
tanlum  ab  historiis  et  critiris  pciatur,  verum  ctiam  per  singulas annornm  centurias,  aut  etiam  minora  intervalla, 
•eriatim  libri  pncuipul,  qui  eo  temporis  spatio  conscript!  sunt,  in  consilium  adhibeantur ;  ut  ex  eorum  non 
perlectione  (id  enim  infinitum  quiddam  esset),  scd  dcgustatione,  et  observatione  argument!,  styli,  methodi, 
genius  illius  temporis  literarius,  veluli  incantatione  quadam,  a  mortuis  evocetur."— BACOX,  de  Augm.Scient. 


IN     TWO     VOLUMES. 

VOL.    II. 


NEW-YORK: 
PUBLISHED    BY    HARPER    &    BROTHERS, 

NO.      82     CLIFF-STREET. 

18  54 


CONTENTS 


THE      SECOND     VOLUME. 


CHAPTER  I. 

•ISTORY    OF    ANCIENT     LITERATURE     IN     EDROPE 
FROM   1600  TO   1650. 

Page 

Learning  of  17th  Century  less  Philological      .    J 

Popularity  of  Comenius 13 

Decline  of  Greek  Learning       .       .       .        .14 

Casaubon 14 

Viger  de  Idiotismis  .        .        .        .       .        .15 

Weller's  Greek  Grammar         .        .        .        .15 

Labbe  and  others 15 

Salmasius  de  Lingua  Hellenistica   .  .    15 

Greek  Editions :  Savile's  Chrysostom  .  .  16 
Greek  Learning  in  England  .  .  .  .16 
Latin  Editions :  Torrentius  .  .  .  .17 

Gruter 17 

Heinsius 17 

Grotius 17 

Rutgersius,  Reinesius,  Barthius      .        .        .17 

Other  Critics :  English 1 

Salmasius 1 

Good  Writers  of  Latin 1 

Scioppius 1 

His  Philosophical  Grammar  ....  19 
His  Infamia  Famiani  .....  20 
Judicium  de  Stylo  Historico  .  .  .  .20 
Gerard  Vossius,  de  Vitiis  Sermonis  .  .  20 

His  Aristarchus 21 

Progress  of  Latin  Style 21 

Gruter's  Collection  of  Inscriptions   .        .        .22 

Assisted  by  Scaliger 22 

Works  on  Roman  Antiquity      .        .        .        .23 

Geography  of  Cluverius 23 

Meursius 23 

Ubbo  Emmius 23 

Chronology  of  Lydiat.    Calvisius    .       .        .24 

Petavius 24 

Character  of  this  work     .....    25 

CHAPTER  II. 

HISTORY    OF     THEOLOGICAL    LITERATURE 
ROPE  FROM   1600  TO   1650. 

Temporal  Supremacy  of  Rome 
Contest  with  Venice 
Father  Paul  Sarpi    . 
History  of  Council  of  Trent 
Gallican  Liberties.    Richer 
Perron      .... 
Decline  of  Papal  Power   . 
Unpopularity  of  the  Jesuits 
Richelieu's  Care  of  Gallican  Liberties     . 
Controversy  of  Catholics  and  Protestants 
Increased  respect  for  the  Fathers     .        . 
Especially  in  England.    Laud 
Defections  to  the  Catholic  Church  .       . 
Wavering  of  Casaubon     .... 

And  of  Grotius 

Calixtus 

His  Attempts  at  Concord 

High-church  Party  in  England 

Dallle  on  the  right  Use  of  the  Fathers     . 


Chillingworth's  Religion  of  Protestants  .        .    38 

Character  of  this  Work 38 

Hales  on  Schism 40 

Controversies  on  Grace  and  Free-will.    Augus- 

tinian  Scheme 40 

Semi-pelagian  Hypothesis       .        .        .        .41 

Tenets  of  the  Reformers 41 

Rise  of  Arminianism         .       .       .        .        .42 

Episcopius 42 

His  Writings 42 

Their  Spirit  and  Tendency  ....  42 
Great  latitude  allowed  by  them  .  .  .43 
Progress  of  Arminianism  .  .  .  .43 

Cameron 43 

Rise  of  Jansenism 43 

Socinus.    Volkelius 44 

Crellius.    Ruarus 44 

Erastianism  maintained  by  Hooker  and  Grotius  45 
His  Treatse  on  the  Ecclesiastical  Power  of  the 

State 46 

Remark  upon  this  Theory  .  .  .  .47 
Toleration  of  Religious  Tenets  .  .48 

Claimed  by  the  Arminians        .       .        .        .48 

By  the  Independents 48 

And  by  Jeremy  Taylor 48 

His  Liberty  of  Prophesying      .        .        .        .49 
Boldness  of  his  Doctrines         .        .        .        .49 
His  Notions  of  Uncertainty  in  Theological  Ten- 
ets           49 

His  low  Opinion  of  the  Fathers  .  .  .50 
Difficulty  of  finding  out  Truth  ...  50 

Grounds  of  Toleration 51 

Inconsistency  of  one  Chapter  .  .  .  .51 
His  general  Defence  of  Toleration  .  .  .51 

Effect  of  this  Treatise 52 

Its  Defects .53 

Great  Erudition  of  this  Period  .  .  .53 
Usher.  Petavius  .  .  .....  .53 

Sacred  Criticism 53 

Grotius.    Coccejus 54 

English  Commentators 54 

Style  of  Preaching    .        .        .-.••„.*        .    54 

English  Sermons 55 

Of  Donne 55 

Of  Jeremy  Taylor 55 

Devotional  Writings  of  Taylor  and  Hall  .  56 
In  the  Roman  .......  56 

And  Lutheran  Church 56 

Infidelity  of  some  Writers :  Charron        .        .    56 

Vanini »       .       .    57 

Lord  Herbert  of  Cherbury        ....    58 

Grotius  de  Veritate 58 

English  Translation  of  the  Bible  ...  58 
Its  Style 58 

CHAPTER  III. 

HISTORY  OF  SPECULATIVS  PHILOSOPHY  FROM  1600 
TO   1650. 

Subjects  of  this  Chapter 59 

Aristotelians  and  Ramists        .        .        .        .59 
No  Improvement  till  near  the  End  of  the  Cen- 
tury        60 


CONTENTS. 


Methods  of  the  Universities     ....    60 

Scholastic  Writers 60 

Treatises  on  Logic 61 

Campanella       ....  61 

His  Theory  taken  from  Telesio  61 

Notion  of  Universal  Sensibility  62 

His  Imagination  and  Eloquence  62 

His  Works  published  by  Adaini  63 

Basson 64 

Berigard 64 

Magnen 64 

Paracelsists .64 

And  Theosophists 64 

Fludd 64 

Jacob  Behmen 65 

Lord  Herbert  De  Veritate         .        .        .        .65 

His  Axioms 66 

Conditions  of  Truth 66 

Instinctive  Truths 66 

Internal  Perceptions 67 

Five  Notions  of  Natural  Religion  .  .  .67 
Remarks  of  Gassendi  on  Herbert  .  .  .67 
Gassendi's  Defence  of  Epicurus  .  .  .68 
His  chief  Works  after  1650  .  .  .  .69 
Preparation  for  the  Philosophy  of  Lord  Bacon  69 

His  Plan  of  Philosophy 69 

Time  of  its  Conception 69 

Instauratio  Magna 70 

First  Part :  Partitiones  Scientiarum  .  .  70 
Second  Part:  Novum  Organum  .  .  .70 
Third  Part :  Natural  History  .  .  .  .71 
Fourth  Part:  Scala  Intellectus  ,  .71 

Fifth  Part :  Anticipations  Philosophic  .  .  72 
Sixth  Part :  Philosophia  Secunda  .  .  .72 
Course  of  Studying  Lord  Bacon  .  .72 

Nature  of  the  Baconian  Induction    .        .        .73 

His  Dislike  of  Aristotle 74 

His  Method  much  required       .        .        .        .74 

Its  Objects        .......    75 

Sketch  of  the  Treatise  De  Augrnentis     .        .    75 

History 75 

Poetry       .      • 75 

Fine  Passage  on  Poetry 75 

Natural  Theology  and  Metaphysics  .  .  75 
Form  of  Bodies  might  sometimes  be  inquired 

into 75 

Final  Causes  too  much  slighted        .  .    76 

Man  not  included  by  him  in  Physics       .       .    76 

Man  in  Body  and  Mind 76 

Logic 77 

Extent  given  it  by  Bacon         .        .        .        .77 

Grammar  and  Rhetoric 77 

Ethics       .        . 77 

Politics .        .    77 

Theology  ......  .    78 

Desiderata  enumerated  by  him  .        .    78 

Novum  Organum :  First  Book  .        .    78 

Fallacies.    Idola       ...  .    78 

Confounded  with  Idols      .  .        .    78 

Second  Book  of  the  Novum  Organum    .        .    79 

Confidence  of  Bacon 80 

Almost  justified  of  late 80 

But  should  be  kept  within  Bounds  .  .  .81 
Limits  to  our  Knowledge  by  Sense  .  .  .81 
Inductive  Logic ;  whether  confined  to  Physics  82 
Baconian  Philosophy  built  on  Observation  and 

Experiment 82 

Advantages  of  the  latter 82 

Sometimes  applicable  to  Philosophy  of  Human 

Mind      .        .        .        .        .        .        .  83 

Less  so  to  Politics  and  Morals          .        .  83 

Induction  less  conclusive  in  these  Subjects  83 
Reasons  for  this  Difference  ...  84 

Considerations  on  the  other  Side     .        .  84 

Result  of  the  Whole 85 

Bacon's  Aptitude  for  Moral  Subjects       .        .    86 


Comparison  of  Bacon  and  Galileo  .  .  .86 
His  Prejudice  against  Mathematics  .  .  87 

Bacon's  Excess  of  Wit 88 

Fame  of  Bacon  on  the  Continent     .        .        .88 

Early  Life  of  Descartes 90 

His  beginning  to  Philosophize         .        .        .91 

He  retires  to  Holland 91 

His  Publications 91 

He  begins  by  Doubting  all  .  .  .  .91 
His  first  Step  in  Knowledge  ....  92 

His  Mind  not  Skeptical 92 

He  arrives  at  more  Certainty  .        .        .        .92 

His  Proof  of  a  Deity         93 

Another  Proof  of  it 93 

His  Deduction  from  this 94 

Primary  and  Secondary  Qualities  .  .  .94 
Objections  made  to  his  Meditations  .  .  94 
Theory  of  Memory  and  Imagination  .  .  95 
Seat  of  Soul  in  the  Pineal  Gland  .  .96, 

Gassendi's  Attacks  on  the  Meditations    .        .    96* 

Superiority  of  Descartes 96 

Stewart's  Remarks  on  Descartes     .        .        .97 

Paradoxes  on  Descartes 98 

His  just  Notion  of  Definitions  .  .  .  .99 
His  Notion  of  Substances  .  .  .  .100 

Not  quite  Correct 100 

His  Notions  of  Intuitive  Truth         .        .        .  100 

Treatise  on  Art  of  Logic 101 

Merits  of  his  Writings 101 

His  Notions  of  Free-will 101 

Fame  of  his  System,  and  Attacks  upon  it        .  102 

Controversy  with  Voet 102 

Charges  of  Plagiarism 103 

Recent  Increase  of  his  Fame  ....  104 
Metaphysical  Treatises  of  Hobbes  .  .  .  104 

His  Theory  of  Sensation 105 

Coincident  with  Descartes       ....  105 

Imagination  and  Memory          ....  105 

Discourse  or  Train  of  Imagination  .        .        .  106 
Experience       .        .        .        .        .        .        .106 

Unconceivableness  of  Infinity  ....  106 

Origin  of  Language 107 

His  Political  Theory  interferes  ...  107 
Necessity  of  Speech  exaggerated  .  . 


Use  of  Names 
Names  universal  not  Realities  . 
How  imposed    .... 
The  Subject  continued 


.  107 
.  107 
.  108 
.  108 
.  109 
Names  differently  imposed  ....  109 

Knowledge 110 

Reasoning         .        .        .        .        .        .        .110 

False  Reasoning Ill 

Its  Frequency 112 

Knowledge  of  Fact  not  derived  from  Reasoning  112 
Belief       .        .        .        .        .        .        .        .112 

Chart  of  Science 113 

Analysis  of  Passions 113 

Good  and  Evil  relative  Terms          .        .        .113 

His  Paradoxes 113 

His  Notion  of  Love 114 

Curiosity 114 

Difference  of  Intellectual  Capacities        .        .  114 

Wit  and  Fancy 115 

Differences  in  the  Passions      .       .        .        .115 

Madness 115 

Unmeaning  Language      .....  115 

Manners 116 

Ignorances  and  Prejudice         .        .        .        .116 

His  Theory  of  Religion 116 

Its  supposed  Sources 117 

CHAPTER  IV. 

HISTORY   OF   MORAL  AND    POLITICAL    PHILOSOPHy, 
AND  OF  JURISPRUDENCE,  FROM  1600  TO  1650. 

Casuistical  Writers 119 

Importance  of  Confession        .       .       .       .119 


CONTENTS. 


Necessity  of  Rules  for  the  Confessor        .        .119 
Increase  of  Casuistical  Literature    .        .        .119 
Distinction  of  Subjective  and  Objective  Moral- 
ity           120 

Directory  Office  of  the  Confessor     .        .        .120 

Difficulties  of  Casuistry 120 

Strict  and  lax  Schemes  of  it  .  .  .  .121 
Convenience  of  the  latter  .  .  .  .121 

Favoured  by  the  Jesuits 121 

The  Causes  of  this 121 

Extravagance  of  the  strict  Casuists  .  .121 
Opposite  Faults  of  Jesuits  ....  122 

Suarez,  De  Legibus 122 

Titles  of  his  ten  Books 122 

Heads  of  the  Second  Book  .  .  .  .123 
Character  of  such  Scholastic  Treatises  .  .  123 

Quotations  of  Suarez 123 

His  Definition  of  Eternal  Law  .  .  .124 
Whether  God  is  a  Legislator?  .  .  .  .  124 
Whether  God  could  permit  or  commend  Wrong 

Actions? 124 

English  Casuists :  Perkins,  Hall  .  .  .  125 
Selden,  De  Jure  Naturali  juxta  Hebraeos  .  125 
Jewish  Theory  of  Natural  Law  .  .  .  126 
Seven  Precepts  of  the  Sons  of  Noah  .  .126 
Character  of  Selden's  Work  .  .  .  .126 

Grotius  and  Hobbes 126 

Charron  on  Wisdom  .  .  .  .  .  126 
La  Mothe  le  Vayer.  His  Dialogues  .  .  127 

Bacon's  Essays 127 

Their  Excellence 128 

Feltham's  Resolves 128 

Browne's  Religio  Medici 129 

Selden's  Table-talk 129 

Osborn's  Advice  to  his  Son      ....  130 

John  Valentine  Andrea? 130 

Abandonment  of  Anti-monarchical  Theories  .  131 
Political  Literature  becomes  Historical  .  .  131 

Bellenden  De  Statu 131 

Campanella's  Politics 132 

La  Mothe  le  Vayer 132 

Naude's  Coups  d'Etat 132 

Patriarchal  Theory  of  Government         .        .  132 

Refuted  by  Suarez 132 

His  Opinion  of  Law  . 
Bacon 

Political  (Economy  . 
Berra  on  the  Means  of  ob  aining  Money  with- 
out Mines      .        .  ...  134 
His  Causes  of  Wealth  .        .        .134 

His  Praise  of  Venice 135 

Low  Rate  of  Exchange  not  essential  to  Wealth  135 
Hobbes.  His  Political  Works  .  .  .135 
Analysis  of  his  three  Treatises  .  .  .  136 
Civil  Jurists  of  this  Period  .  .  .  .141 

Suarez  on  Laws 141 

Grotius,  De  Jure  Belli  et  Pads        .        .        .141 

Success  of  this  Work 142 

Its  Originality 142 

Its  Motive  and  Object       .  ...  142 

His  Authorities          .  ...  143 

Foundation  of  Natural  Law  .        .        .143 

Positive  Law    ...  ...  143 

Perfect  and  imperfect  Rights  .        .        .  144 

Lawful  Cases  of  War        .  .  144 

Resistance  by  Subjects  unlawful  .  .  .  144 
All  Men  naturally  have  Right  of  War  .  .145 

Right  of  Self-defence 145 

Its  Origin  and  Limitations  ....  145 
Kight  of  Occupancy  .  •  .  .  .  146 

Relinquishment  of  it 146 

Right  over  Persons.  By  Generation  .  .  146 
By  Consent.  In  Marriage  .  .  .  .146 

In  Commonwealths 147 

Right  of  alienating  Subjects  ....  147 
Alienation  by  Testament 147 


Rights  of  Property  by  Positive  Law  . 
Extinction  of  Rights  .... 
Some  Casuistical  Questions  .  .  . 

Promises 

Contracts 

Considered  Ethically  .... 
Promissory  Oaths  ..... 
Engagements  of  Kings  towards  Subjects 

Public  Treaties 

Their  Interpretation  .... 
Obligation  to  repair  Injury  .  .  . 
Rights  by  Law  of  Nations  .  .  . 
Those  of  Ambassadors  .... 

Right  of  Sepulture 

Punishments 

Their  Responsibility  .... 
Insufficient  Causes  of  War 

Duty  of  avoiding  it 

And  Expediency 

War  for  the  sake  of  other  Subjects  . 

Allies 

Strangers 

None  to  serve  in  an  unjust  War        .        . 

Rights  in  War 

Use  of  Deceit 

Rules  and  Customs  of  Nations 
Reprisals  .        .        .        .        .        .        . 

Declarations  of  War          .... 

Rights  by  Law  of  Nations  over  Enemies 
Prisoners  become  Slaves         .        .        . 
Right  of  Postliminium      .... 

Moral  Limitation  of  Rights  in  War  .  . 
Moderation  required  as  to  Spoil  .  . 

And  as  to  Prisoners 

Also  in  Conquest 

And  in  Restitution  to  Right  Owners 
Promises  to  Enemies  and  Pirates    . 
Treaties  concluded  by  competent  Authority 
Matters  relating  to  them  .... 
Truces  and  Conventions  .... 
Those  of  Private  Persons 
Objections  to  Grotius  made  by  Paley  unreason 

able 

Reply  of  Mackintosh  .... 
Censures  of  Stewart  .  .  •  . 

Answer  to  them 

Grotius  vindicated  against  Rousseau 

His  Arrangement 

His  Defects 


147 
147 
147 
149 
148 
148 
149 
149 
149 
150 
150 
151 
151 
151 
151 
152 
153 
153 
153 
M3 
153 
153 
153 
154 
154 
154 
154 
154 
154 
155 
155 
155 
156 
156 
156 
156 
156 
157 
157 
158 
158 

158 
158 
159 
159 
162 
162 
162 


Low  Estimation  of  the  Seicentisti  .  .  .163 
Not  quite  so  great  as  formerly  .  .  .  163 
Praise  of  them  by  Rubbi  .  .  .  .  .163 

Also  by  Sain 163 

Adone  of  Marini 164 

Its  Character 164 

And  Popularity 164 

Secchia  Rapita  of  Tassoni      .        .       .        .165 

Chiabrera 165 

His  Followers 166 

The  Styles  of  Spanish  Poetry         ...    '  .        .If 

The  Romances 167 

The  Brothers  Argensola 167 

Villegas 168 

Quevedo 168 

Defects  of  Taste  in  Spanish  Verse  .  .  168 
Pedantry  and  far-fetched  Allusions  .  .  .169 

Gongora 169 

The  Schools  formed  by  him     .        .        .        .169 

Malherbe 170 

Criticisms  upon  his  Poetry  ....  170 
Satires  of  Regnier  .  •  •  •  .  .171 


CHAPTER  V. 


VI 


CONTENTS. 


Racan.  'Maynard     .        .        .        .        .        .17 

Voiture.    Sarrazin 17 

Low  State  of  German  Literature     .       .       .17 
Literary  Societies  .        .        .        .17 

Opitz        .       .  ....  17 

His  Followers  .  .....  17 

Dutch  Poetry    . 17 

Spiegel 17 

Hooft.    Cats.    Vondel 17 

Danish  Poetry 17 

English  Poets  numerous  in  this  Age        .        .17 

Phineas  Fletcher 17 

Giles  Fletcher 17 

Philosophical  Poetry 17. 

Lord  Brooke 17; 

Denham's  Cooper's  Hill 17, 

Poets  called  Metaphysical        .        .        .        .  17i 

Donne .  17i 

Crashaw 176 

Cowley 17i 

Johnson's  Character  of  him      .        .        .        .17' 
Narrative  Poets.    Daniel         ....  177 

Dray  ton's  Polyolbion 1 

Browne's  Britannia's  Pastorals        .        .        .17$ 

Sir  John  Beaumont 17f 

Davenant's  Gondibert 17£ 

Sonnets  of  Shakspeare 175 

The  Person  whom  they  address       .        .        .  17< 
Sonnets  of  Drummond  and  others    .        .        .180 

Carew 181 

Ben  Jonson       .  181 

Wither      .        .        .  .  .        .181 

Habington 18! 

Earl  ot  Pembroke 18! 

Suckling 182 

Lovelace 182 

Herrick 182 

Milton 183 

His  Comus 183 

Lycidas 184 

Allegro  and  Penseroso     .        .       .        .        .184 

Ode  on  the  Nativity 184 

His  Sonnets .184 

Anonymous  Poetry 184 

Latin  Poets  of  France 184 

In  Germany  and  Italy 185 

In  Holland.    Heinsius      .....  185 
Casimir  -Sarbievius   .       .        .        .        .        .185 

Barlaeus 185 

Balde.    Greek  Poems  of  Heinsius  .        .        .  186 
Latin  Poets  of  Scotland.    Jonston's  Psalms  .  186 

Owen's  Epigrams 186 

Alabaster's  Itoxana 186 

May's  Supplement  to  Lucan    ....  187 
Milton's  Latin  Poems 187 

CHAPTER  VI. 

HISTORY    OF    DRAMATIC    LITERATURE    FROM    1600 
TO   1650. 

Decline  of  the  Italian  Theatre         .        .        .188 
Filli  di  Sciro     .....  .188 

Translations  of  Spanish  Dramas     .        .        .189 
Extemporaneous  Comedy         ....  189 

Spanish  Stage 189 

Calderon :  Number  of  his  Pieces     .        .       .  189 

His  Comedies 190 

La  Vida  es  Sueno 190 

A  Secreto  agravio  secreta  venganqa         .        .  191 
Style  of  Calderon    .        .        .        .       .        .191 

His  Merits  sometimes  overrated       .        .        .192 

Plays  of  Hardy 192 

The  Cid 193 


Style  of  Comeille 194 

Les  Horaces     .......  194 

China        .        »       .      . .      . .        .       .        .  194 

Polyeucte 195 

Rodogune         .......  195 

Pompey 195 

Heraclius 195 

Nicomede 196 

Faults  and  Beauties  of  Comeille     .       .        .  196 

Le  Menteur 196 

Other  French  Tragedies  .      . .      . .       .        .196 

Wenceslas  of  Rotrou 196 

Popularity  of  the  Stage  under  Elizabeth        .  197 

Number  of  Theatres 197 

Encouraged  by  James 197 

General  Taste  for  the  Stage  ....  197 
Theatres  closed  by  the  Parliament  .  .  .  198 
Shakspeare's  Twelfth  Night  .  .  .  .198 
Merry  Wives  of  Windsor  .  .  .  .199 
Measure  for  Measure  .  .  .  .  199 

Lear .200 

Timon  of  Athens 200 

Pericles 201 

His  Roman  Tragedies :  Julius  Caesar  .  .  202 
Antony  and  Cleopatra  .....  202 

Coriolanus         . 202 

His  Retirement  and  Death        ....  202 

Greatness  of  his  Genius 203 

His  Judgment 203 

His  Obscurity 204 

His  Popularity 204 

Critics  on  Shakspeare 204 

Ben  Jonson 205 

The  Alchymist 205 

Volpone,  or  The  Fox 206 

The  Silent  Woman 206 

Sad  Shepherd 206 

Beaumont  and  Fletcher 206 

Corrupt  State  of  their  Text  ....  297 
The  Maid's  Tragedy  .  .  •  .  .  .  207 

ffiilaster 208 

£ing  and  No  King 208 

The  Elder  Brother 208 

The  Spanish  Curate 209 

The  Custom  of  the  Country    ....  209 

The  Loyal  Subject 209 

Beggar's  Rush  .        .        .        _  .        .210 

The  Scornful  Lady 210 

falentinian 210 

The  Two  Noble  Kinsmen  .  .  .  .210 
The  Faithful  Shepherdess  .  .  .  .211 
lule  a  Wife  and  have  a  Wife  .  .  .  .  21 1 

Some  other  Plays 21L 

Drigin  of  Fletcher's  Plays        ....  212 

Meets  of  their  Plots 212 

"^heir  Sentiments  and  Style  dramatic      .        .  212 

heir  Characters 213 

'heir  Tragedies 213 

nferior  to  their  Comedies         .        .        .        .213 

heir  Female  Characters         ....  213 

rf assinger  :  Nature  of  his  Dramas  .        .        .  214 

[is  Delineations  of  Character         .       .        .  215 

[is  Subjects 215 

Jeauty  of  his  Style  .,          215 

nferiority  of  his  Comic  Powers  .  .  .215 
"ome  of  his  tragedies  particularized  .  .215 

nd  of  his  other  Plays 216 

ord 216 

hirley 217 

'eywood .        .217 

Webster 217 

"is  Duchess  of  Malfy  .....  217 
ittoria  Corombona 218 


CONTENTS. 


Vii 


CHAPTER  VII. 

HISTORY   OF    POLITE  LITERATURE   IN   PROSE  FROM 
1600  TO    1650. 

l'»e° 

Decline  of  Taste  in  Italy 219 

Style  of  Galileo       .        .        .        .        .        .  219 

Bentivoglio 220 

Boccalini's  News  from  Parnassus    .        .        .  220 

His  Pietra  del  Paragone 220 

Ferrante  Pallavicino 221 

Dictionary  Delia  Crusca 221 

Grammatical  Works :  Buonmattei.  Bartoli  .  221 
Tassoni's  Remarks  on  Petrarch  .  .  .221 
Galileo's  Remarks  on  Tasso  .  .  .  .  222 
Sforza  Pallavicino  and  other  Critical  Writers .  222 

Prolusiones  of  Strada 222 

Spanish  Prose :  Gracian 222 

French  Prose :  Du  Vair   .        .        .        .        .223 

Balzac 223 

Character  of  his  Writings        .        .        .        .223 

His  Letters 224 

Voiture.  Hotel  Rambouillet  .  .  .  .224 
Establishment  of  the  French  Academy  .  .  225 
Its  Objects  and  Constitution  ....  226 
It  publishes  a  Critique  on  the  Cid  .  .  .  226 
Vaugelas's  Remarks  on  the  French  Language  227 

La  Mothe  le  Vayer 227 

Legal  Speeches  of  Patru     '     .  227 

And  of  Le  Maistre 228 

Improvement  in  English  Style         .        .        .  228 

Earl  of  Essex 229 

Knolles's  History  of  the  Turks  .  .  .229 
Raleigh's  History  of  the  World  .  .  .230 
Daniel's  History  of  England  .  .  .  .230 

Bacon 231 

Milton 231 

Clarendon 231 

The  Icon  Basilice     .        .        .        ...        .231 

Burton's  Anatomy  of  Melancholy    .        .        .  232 

Earle's  Characters 232 

Overbury's  Characters 232 

Jonson's  Discoveries 232 

Publication  of  Don  Quixote     .        .        .        .233 

Its  Reputation 233 

New  Views  of  its  Design          ....  233 

Probably  Erroneous 234 

Difference  between  the  two  Parts  .  .  .  234 
Excellence  of  this  Romance  ....  235 
Minor  Novels  of  Cervantes  ....  235 

Other  Novels:  Spanish 235 

And  Italian 235 

French  Romances  :  Astr6e  ....  235 
Heroic  Romances :  Gomberville  .  .  .  236 

Calprenede 236 

Scuderi 237 

Argenis  of  Barclay 237 

His  Euphormio 238 

Campanella's  City  of  the  Sun  .  .  .  238 
Few  Books  of  Fiction  in  England  .  .  .238 
Mundus  Alter  et  Idem  of  Hall  .  .  .238 
Godwin's  Journey  to  the  Moon  .  .  .  239 
Howell's  Dodona's  Grove  ....  239 
Adventures  of  Baron  de  Fsneste  .  .  .  239 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

HISTORY    OP    MATHEMATICAL   AND    PHYSICAL    SCI- 
ENCE  FROM    1600  TO   1650. 

State  of  Science  in  the  16th  Century        .  240 

Tediousness  of  Calculations    .        .        .  240 

Napier's  Invention  of  Logarithms    .        .  240 

Their  Nature 240 

Property  of  Numbers  discovered  by  Stifelius  240 

Extended  to  Magnitudes  ....  241 

By  Napier 241 

Tables  of  Napier  and  Briggs    .        .        .  241 

Kepler's  new  Geometry 242 


Its  Difference  from  the  Ancient 

Adopted  by  Galileo   . 

Extended  by  Cavalieri 

Applied  to  the  Ratios  of  Solids 

Problem  of  the  Cycloid    . 

Progress  of  Algebra         .        .  . 

Briggs.    Girard         .        .  .        . 

Harriott 

Descartes          .... 

His  Application  of  Algebra  to  Curves 

Suspected  Plagiarism  from  Harriott 

Fermat 

Algebraic  Geometry  not  successful  at  first 
Astronomy :  Kepler          .... 
Conjectures  as  to  Comets 
Galileo's  Discovery  of  Jupiter's  Satellites 
Other  Discoveries  by  him 
Spots  of  the  Sun  discovered    . 
Copernican  System  held  by  Galileo         . 
His  Dialogues,  and  Persecution 
Descartes  alarmed  by  this 
Progress  of  the  Copeftiican  System 
Descartes  denies  general  Gravitation 
Cartesian  Theory  of  the  World 
Transits  of  Mercury  and  Venus       .        . 
Laws  of  Mechanics          .        .        .        . 

Statics  of  Galileo 

His  Dynamics  .        . 
Mechanics  of  Descartes   .... 
Law  of  Motion  laid  down  by  Descartes  . 
Also  those  of  Compound  Forces 
Other  Discoveries  in  Mechanics 
In  Hydrostatics  and  Pneumatics 
Optics  :  Discoveries  of  Kepler 
Invention  of  the  Telescope 

Of  the  Microscope 

Antonio  de  Dominis 

Dioptrics  of  Descartes.    Law  of  Refraction 
Disputed  by  Fermat          .... 
Curves  of  Descartes         .... 
Theory  of  the  Rainbow    .... 


.  243 
.  243 
.  243 
.  243 

.  244 
244 
.  244 
.  245 
.  245 
.  245 
.  240 
.  246 
.247 
.  247 
.  247 
.  248 
.  248 
.  248 
.  249 
.  249 
.  249 
.  250 
.  250 
.  251 
.  251 
.  251 
.  251 
.  252 
.  253 
.  253 
.  253 
.  253 
.  254 
.  254 
.  255 
.  255 
.  255 
.  255 
.  256 
.  256 


CHAPTER  IX. 

HISTORY   OF    SOME   OTHER    PROVINCES  OF 
TURE   FROM   1600  TO   1650. 

Aldrovandus 

Clusius 

Rio  and  Marcgraf 

Jonston 

Fabricius  on  the  Language  of  Brutes       . 

Botany :  Columna 

John  and  Gaspar  Bauhin  .... 

Parkinson 

Valves  of  the  Veins  discovered 
Theory  of  the  Blood's  Circulation  . 
Sometimes  ascribed  to  Servetus 

To  Columbus 

And  to  Caesalpin        .        .        .        •     /  • 
Generally  unknown  before  Harvey  . 

His  Discovery 

Unjustly  doubted  to  be  Original 
Harvey's  Treatise  on  Generation     .        . 
Lacteals  discovered  by  Asellius        .         . 
Optical  Discoveries  of  Scheiner 
Medicine :  Van  Helmont         .        .        . 
Diffusion  of  Hebrew          .... 
Language  not  studied  in  the  best  Method 

The  Buxtorfs 

Vowel  Points  rejected  by  Cappel     . 

Hebrew  Scholars 

Chaldee  and  Syriac  ... 

Arabic . 

Erpenius   ..... 

Golius . 

Other  Eastern  Languages        .  . 

Purchas's  Pilgrim     ...  . 


.  256 
.  256 
.  256 
.  257 
.  257 
.  258 
.  258 
.  259 
.  259 
.  259 
.  260 
.  260 
.261 
.  261 
.  261 
.  262 
.  262 
.  262 
.  262 
.  262 
.  263 
263 
.  263 
.  264 
.  264 
.  265 
.  265 
.  265 
.  265 
.  265 
.  266 


CONTENTS. 


Olearius  and  Pietro  della  Valle 

Lexicon  of  Ferrari   . 

Maps  of  Blaew 

Davila  and  Bentivoglio     . 

Mendoza's  Wars  of  Granada    . 

Mezeray 

English  Historians  . 
English  Histories 
Universities       .... 
Bodleian  Library  founded 
Casaubon's  Account  of  Oxford 
Catalogue  of  the  Bodleian  Library 
Continental  Libraries 
Italian  Academies     . 
The  Lincei       .... 
Prejudice  for  Antiquity  diminished 
•Browne's  Vulgar  Errors   . 
Life  and  Character  of  Peiresc 


266 
266 
266 
266 
267 
267 
267 
267 
267 
267 
267 
268 
268 
269 
269 
269 
270 
271 


CHAPTER  I. 

HISTORY    OP    ANCIENT     LITERATURE     IN    EUROPE 
FROM    1650  TO   1700. 

James  Frederic  Gronovius        ....  272 

James  Gronovius 272 

Graevius .272 

Isaac  Vossius 272 

Decline  of  German  Learning   ....  272 

Spanheim 273 

Jesuit  Colleges  in  France  ....  273 
Port-Royal  Writers :  Lancelot  .  .  .  273 
Latin  Grammars :  Perizonius  .  .  .  273 

Delphin  Editions 273 

Le  Fevre  and  the  Daciers         ....  274 
Henry  Valois.    Complaints  of  Decay  of  Learn- 
ing        .....'...  274 
English  Learning :  Duport       .        ;        .        .  274 

Greek  not  much  Studied 275 

Gataker's  Cinnus  and  Antoninus      .        .        .  275 

Stanley's  ^Eschylus 275 

Other  English  Philologers  .  .  .  .275 
Bentley:  His  Epistle  to  Mill  .  .  .  .276 

Dissertation  on  Phalaris 276 

Disadvantages  of  Scholars  in  that  Age  .  .  276 
Thesauri  of  Graevius  and  of  Gronovius  .  .  277 

Fabretti 277 

Numismatics  :  Spanheim.    Vaillant       .        .  278 

Chronology:  Usher 278 

Pezron      .........  278 

Marsham 278 

CHAPTER  II. 

HISTORY  OF  THEOLOGICAL  LITERATURE  FROM  1650 
TO   1700. 

Decline  of  Papal  Influence  ....  279 
Dispute  of  Louis  XIV.  with  Innocent  XI.  .  279 

Four  Articles  of  1682 279 

Dupin  on  the  Ancient  Discipline  .  .  .  280 
Dupin's  Ecclesiastical  Library  .  .  .  280 
Fleury's  Ecclesiastical  History  .  .  .281 

His  Dissertations 281 

Protestant  Controversy  in  France  .  .  .  281 
Bossuet's  Exposition  of  the  Catholic  Faith  .  281 
His  Conference  with  Claude  ....  282 
Correspondence  with  Molanus  and  Leibnitz  .  222 
His  Variations  of  Protestant  Churches  .  .  283 
Anglican  Writings  against  Popery  .  .  .  283 

Taylor's  Dissuasive 284 

Barrow.     Stillingfleet 284 

Jansenius 284 

Condemnation  of  his  Augustinus  in  France     .  284 

And  at  Rome .  285 

The  Jansenists  take  a  Distinction    .        .        .  285 


And  are  Persecuted 285 

Progress  of  Arminianism         ....  286 

Courcelles 286 

Limborch 286 

Le  Clerc 286 

Sancroft's  Fur  Pradestinatus  ....  287 

Arminianism  in  England 287 

Bull's  Harmonia  Apostolica  ....  287 
Hammond.  Locke.  Wilkins.  .  .  .  288 

Socinians  in  England 288 

Bull's  Defensio  Fidei  Nicenx  ....  288 

Not  satisfactory  to  all 289 

Mystics 289 

Fenelon 289 

Change  in  the  Character  of  Theological  Liter- 
ature       289 

Freedom  of  many  Writings      ....  290 

Thoughts  of  Pascal 290 

Vindications  of  Christianity  ....  292 
Progress  of  tolerant  Principles  .  .  .  293 
Bayle's  Philosophical  Commentary  .  .  293 
Locke's  Letter  on  Toleration  ....  293 

French  Sermons 294 

Bourdaloue 294 

Compared  with  Bossuet 295 

Funeral  Discourses  of  Bossuet        .        .        .  295 

Flechier 296 

English  Sermons  :  Barrow      ....  296 

South 297 

Tillotson 297 

Expository  Theology 297 

Pearson  on  the  Creed 297 

Simon's  Critical  Histories        ....  297 

CHAPTER  III. 

HISTORY  OF    SPECULATIVE  PHILOSOPHY  FROM    1650 
TO    1700. 


Aristotelian  Metaphysics 
Their  Decline.    Thomas  White 

Logic 

Stanley's  History  of  Philosophy 
Gale's  Court  of  the  Gentiles  . 
Cudworth's  Intellectual  System 
Its  Object 


.  298 
.  299 
.  299 
.  300 
.  30C 
.  300 
.  300 

Sketch  of  it 300 

His  plastic  Nature 301 

His  Account  of  the  old  Philosophy  .        .        .  301 
His  Arguments  against  Atheism       .        .        .301 

More 302 

Gassendi 302 

His  Logic 302 

His  Theory  of  Ideas         ...  303 

And  of  the  Nature  of  the  Soul        .  303 

Distinguishes  Ideas  of  Reflection    .  304 

Also  Intellect  from  Imagination        .  304 

His  Philosophy  misunderstood  by  Stewa  t         305 
Bernier's  Epitome  of  Gassendi         .  305 

Progress  of  the  Cartesian  Philosophy  306 

La  Forge.     Regis      ....  306 

Huet's  Censure  of  Cartesianism      .  307 

Port-Royal  Logic 308 

Malebranche 309 

His  Style 309 

Sketch  of  his  Theory 310 

Character  of  Malebranche        .        .        .        .316 

Compared  with  Pascal 316 

Arnauld  on  True  and  False  Ideas    .        .        .316 

Norris 317 

Pascal 317 

Spinosa's  Ethics 318 

Its  general  Originality 318 

View  »f  his  Metaphysical  Theory    .        .        .319 
Spinosa's  Theory  of  Action  and  Passion  .        .  323 

Character  of  Spinosism 324 

Glanvil's  Scepsis  Scientifica   .       .        .        .325 


CONTENTS. 


His  Plus  Ultra 326 

Dalgarao 326 

Wilkins 327 

Locke  on  the  Human  Understanding      .        .  327 

Its  Merits 327 

Its  Defects 328 

Origin  of  Ideas  according  to  Locke  .  .  328 
Vague  Use  of  the  word  Idea  ....  329 
An  Error  as  to  Geometrical  Figure  .  .  .  330 
His  Notions  as  to  the  Soul  ....  331 
And  its  Immateriality  .....  332 
His  Love  of  Truth  and  Originality  .  .  .332 

Defended  in  two  Cases 333 

His  View  of  Innate  Ideas         ....  333 

General  Praise 334 

Locke's  Conduct  of  the  Understanding  .        .  334 

CHAPTER  IV. 

HISTORY  OF   MORAL  AND   POLITICAL   PHILOSOPHY, 
AND   OF   JURISPRUDENCE,  KROM    1650   TO   1700. 


Casuistry  of  the  Jesuits    . 
Pascal's  Provincial  Letters 
Their  Truth  questioned  by  some 
Taylor's  Ductor  Dubitantium  . 
Its  Character  and  Defects 
Cudworth's  Immutable  Morality 
Nicole.     La  Placette        . 

Other  Writers 

Moral  System  of  Spinosa 
Cumberland's  De  Legibus  Naturas   . 
Analysis  of  Prolegomena 
His  Theory  expanded  afterward 
Remarks  on  Cumberland's  Theory  . 
Puffendorfs  Law  of  Nature  and  Nations 
Analysis  of  this  Work  . 

Puffendorf  and  Paley  compared 

Rochefoucault 

La  Bruyere       .  .... 

Education  :  Milton's  Tractate 
Locke  on  Education :  its  Merits 

And  Defects 

Fenelon  on  Female  Education 
PuffendorPs  Theory  of  Politics 

Politics  of  Spinosa 

His  Theory  of  a  Monarchy 
Amelot  de  la  Houssaye    .... 
Harrington's  Oceana         .... 
PatriarchaofFilmer          . 
Sidney's  Discourses  on  Government 
Locke  on  Government      . 
Observations  on  this  Treatise  . 
Avis  aux  Refugiez,  perhaps  by  Bayle 
Political  Economists        .... 
Mun  on  Foreign  Trade    .... 

Child  on  Trade 

Locke  on  the  Coin 

Statistical  Tracts 

Works  of  Leibnitz  on  Roman  Law  . 
Civil  Jurists :  Godefroy.    Domat    . 

Noodt  on  Usury 

Law  of  Nations.     Puffendorf. 


.  335 
.  335 
.  335 
.  336 
.  336 
.  336 
.  337 
.  337 
.  337 
.  338 
.  339 
.  340 
.  343 
.  344 
.  344 
.  347 
.  348 
.  348 
.  349 
.  349 
.  350 
.  352 
.  353 
.  355 
.  356 
.  357 
.  357 
.  358 
.  358 
.  358 
.  362 
.  362 
.  363 
.  363 
.  363 
.  364 
.  364 
.  365 
.  366 
.  366 
.  366 


CHAPTER  V. 


HISTORY    OF    POETRY   FROM    1650  TO   1700. 

Improved  Tone  of  Italian  Poetry      .        .        .  367 

Filicaja 367 

Guidi 367 

Menzini 368 

Salvator  Rosa.    Redi 368 

Other  Poets 368 

Christina's  Patronage  of  Letters      .        .        .  369 

Society  of  Arcadians 369 

La  Fontaine 369 

Character  of  his  Fables 369 

Boileau  :  His  Epistles              ....  370 
His  Art  of  Poetry 370 


Comparison  with  Horace         . 

The  Lutrin       .... 

General  Character  of  his  Poetry 

Lyric  Poetry  lighter  than  before 

Benserade         .... 

Chaulieu  .        .        .        .        * '  . 

Pastoral  Poetry 

Segrais 

Deshoulieres    . 

Fontenelle 

Bad  Epic  Poems 

German  Poetry 

Waller      . 

Butler's  Hudibras ^ 

Paradise  Lost :  Choice  of  Subject  . 
Open  to  some  Difficulties 

Its  Arrangement 

Characters  of  Adam  and  Eve  . 
He  owes  less  to  Homer  than  the  Tragedians 
Compared  with  Dante     .... 
Elevation  of  his  Style      .... 

His  Blindness 

His  Passion  for  Music  .... 
Faults  in  Paradise  Lost  .... 
Its  Progress  to  Fame  .... 

Paradise  Regained 

Samson  Agonistes  ..... 
Dryden  :  his  earlier  Poems  .  .  . 
Absalom  and  Achitophel  .... 

Mac  Flecknoe 

The  Hind  and  Panther  .... 
Its  singular  Fable  ..... 

Its  Reasoning 

The  Fables 

His  Odes  :  Alexander's  Feast  . 

His  Translation  of  Virgil 

Decline  of  Poetry  from  the  Restoration  . 

Some  minor  Poets  enumerated 

Latin  Poets  of  Italy 

Ceva 

Sergardi    . 

Of  France:  Quillet 

Menage 

Rapin  on  Gardens 

Santeul     . 

Latin  Poetry  in  England 


.  370 
,  371 
.  371 
.  371 
,  371 
,  371 
,  371 
372 
,  372 
,  372 
372 
372 
372 
373 
373 
373 
373 
374 
374 
374 
375 
376 
376 
376 
376 
377 
377 
377 
378 
378 
379 
379 
379 
379 
380 
380 
380 
380 
381 
381 
381 
381 
381 
382 
382 
383 


CHAPTER  VI. 

HISTORY    OF    DRAMATIC    LITERATURE    FROM 
TO    1700. 

Italian  and  Spanish  Drama 

Racine's  first  Tragedies  .... 

Andromaque 

Britannicus 

Berenice 

Bajazet 

Mithridate 

Iphige'nie 

Phedre 

Esther 

Athalie 

Racine's  Female  Characters    . 
Racine  compared  with  Corneille 
Beauty  of  his  Style  . 
Thomas  Corneille :  his  Ariane 
Manlius  of  La  Fosse        . 

Moliere 

L'Avare 

L'Ecole  des  Femmes       .... 

Le  Misanthrope 

Les  Femmes  Savantes    .... 

Tartuffe 

Bourgeois  Gentilhomme.    George  Dandin 
Character  of  Moliere        .... 
Les  Plaideurs  of  Racine  .        .        .        . 
Rognard,    Le  Joueur       .... 
His  other  Plays        .... 


1650 

.  383 

.  383 

.  383 

.  383 

.  384 

.  385 

.  385 

.  385 

.  386 

.  386 

.  387 

38i 

387 

388 

388 

389 

389 

389 

390 

390 

390 

390 

391 

391 

392 

392 

398 


CONTENTS. 


Quinault.    BoursauH       .....  392 

Dancourt 393 

Brueys       . 393 

Operas  of  Quinault   .        .        .        ...  393 

Revival  of  the  English  Theatre        .        .        .393 

Change  of  Public  Taste 394 

Its  Causes 394 

Heroic  Tragedies  of  Dryden     .       .       .        .394 

His  later  Tragedies 395 

Don  Sebastian 395 

Spanish  Friar 395 

Otway 396 

Southern 396 

Lee 396 

Congreve 396 

Comedies  of  Charles  II.'s  Reign      .        .        .396 

Wycherley 397 

Improvement  after  the  Revolution  .  .  .  397 
Congreve  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  397 

Love  for  Love 398 

His  other  Comedies 398 

Farquhar.     Vanbrugh 398 

CHAPTER  VII. 
BISTORT  OF  POLITE  LITERATURE  IN  FROSE  FROM 

1650  TO  1700. 

Low  State  of  Literature  in  Italy  399 

Crescimbeni      ...  399 

Age  of  Louis  XIV.  in  France  399 

Fontenelle  :  his  Character  399 

His  Dialogues  of  the  Dead  400 

Those  of  Fenelon     .        .  400 

Fontenelle's  Plurality  of  Worlds  400 

His  History  of  Oracles 401 

St.  Evremond 401 

Madame  de  Sevigne 401 

The  French  Academy 402 

French  Grammars 402 

Bouhours'  Entretiens  d'Ariste  et  d'Eugene  .  402 
Attacked  by  Barbier  d'Aucour  .  .  403 

La  Maniere  de.  Bien  Penser     .        .  .  404 

Rapin's  Reflections  on  Eloquence  and  Poetry  404 
His  Parallels  qf  Great  Men  .  «:  .  .404 

Bossu  on  Epic  Poetry      ...  .  405 

Fontenelle's  Critical  Writings         .  .  405 

Preference  of  French  Language  to  Latin  .  405 
General  Superiority  of  Ancients  disputed  .  405 

Charles  Perrault 405 

Fontenelle        . 406 

Boileau's  Defence  of  Antiquity  .  .  .406 
First  Reviews.  Journal  des  Sijavans  .  .  406 
Reviews  established  by  Bayle  ....  407 

And  Le  Clerc 407 

Leipsic  Acts 408 

Bayle's  Thoughts  on  the  Comet      .        .        .408 
His  Dictionary          .        .        .        .        .        .  408 

Baillet.    Morhof      ......  409 

The  Ana 409 

English  Style  in  this  Period    .       .        .       .409 

Hobbes , .        .410 

Cowley 410 

Evelyn 410 

Dryden 410 

His  Essay  on  Dramatic  Poesy         .       .        .411 
Improvements  in  his  Style       .        .        .        .411 

His  critical  Character       .        .        .       .        .  411 

Rymer  on  Tragedy  .        .        .        .       .       .  412 

Sir  William  Temple's  Essays  .        .        .        .412 

Style  of  Locke 412 

Sir  George  Mackenzie's  Essays       .        .        .  413 

Andrew  Fletcher 413 

Walton's  Complete  Angler       .        .       .        .413 

Wilkins's  New  World 413 

Antiquity  defended  by  Temple          .        .        .414 

Wotton's  Reflections 414 

Quevedo's  Visions 414 

French  Heroic  Romances       ....  414 


Pag* 

Novels  of  Madame  la  Fayette  .  .  .  414 
Scarron's  Roman  Comique  ....  415 

Cyrano  de  Bergerac 4)5 

Segrais 415 

Perrault 416 

Hamilton 416 

Tel6maque  of  Fenelon      .       .        .  .416 

Deficiency  of  English  Romances     .        .        .  417 

Pilgrim's  Progress 417 

Turkish  Spy 417 

Chiefly  of  English  Origin  .  .  .  .418 
Swift's  Tale  of  a  Tub 419 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

HISTORY    OF    PHYSICAL    AND  OTHER   LITERATURK 
FROM    1650  TO   1700. 

Reasons  for  omitting  Mathematics  .       .       .419 

Academy  del  Cimento 420 

Royal  Society 420 

Academy  of  Sciences  at  Paris         .        .        .  420 

State  of  Chymistry 421 

Becker 421 

Boyle 421 

His  Metaphysical  Works  .  .  .  .421 
Extract  from  one  of  them  ....  422 
His  Merits  in  Physics  and  Chymistry  .  .  422 
General  Character  of  Boyle  ....  422 

Of  Hooker  and  others 422 

Lemery 423 

Slow  Progress  of  Zoology        .        .       .        .423 

Before  Ray 423 

His  Synopsis  of  Quadrupeds    ....  423 

Merits  of  this  Work 424 

Redi 424 

Swammerdam 424 

Lister 424 

Comparative  Anatomy 424 

Botany 425 

Jungius 425 

Morison 425 

Ray  . 425 

Rivinus 426 

Tournefort 426 

Vegetable  Physiology 427 

Grew 427 

His  Anatomy  of  Plants  .  .  .  .  .  427 
He  discovers  the  Sexual  System  .  .  .  427 

Camerarius  confirms  this 427 

Predecessors  of  Grew 428 

Malpighi 428 

Early  Notions  of  Geology  ....  428 
Burnet's  Theory  of  the  Earth  .  .  .  .428 

Other  Geologists 429 

Protogaea  of  Leibnitz 429 

Circulation  of  the  Blood  established         .       .430 

Willis.    Vieussens 430 

Malpighi 430 

Other  Anatomists     ......  430 

Medical  Theories 430 

Polyglott  of  Walton 431 

Hottinger 431 

Spencer 431 

Bochart 431 

Pococke 432 

D'Herbelot       .        .        .       .       .       .        .432 

Hyde         . 432 

Maps  of  the  Sansons  .....  432 
De  Lisle's  Map  of  the  World  .  .  .  .432 

Voyages  and  Travels 433 

Historians 433 

De  Soils 433 

Memoirs  of  De  Retz 433 

Bossuet  on  Universal  History  ....  433 
English  Historical  Works  .  .  .  .434 

Burnet .  434 

General  Character  of  the  17th  Century  .  .  434 
Conclusion  .  ...  .  .  .  434 


! 


LITERATURE     OF    EUROPE 

IN    THE    FIFTEENTH,    SIXTEENTH,    AND    SEVENTEENTH    CENTURIES. 


CHAPTER  I. 

HISTORY    OF   ANCIENT  LITERATURE   IN  EUROPE    FROM    1600  TO    1650. 


SECTION  I. 

Decline  of  merely  Philological,  especially  Greek, 
Learning.  —  Casaubon.  —  Vigor.  —  Editions  of 
Greek  and  Latin  Classics. — Critical  Writings. — 
Latin  Style. — Scioppius. — Vossius. — Successive 
Periods  of  Modern  Latinists. 

1.  IN  every  period  of  literary  history,  if 
Learning  of  we  should  listen  to  the  com- 
tne  nth  cen-  plaints  of  contemporary  wri- 

oiogicaT  phU"  ters>  a^  learmn£  an(i  science 
have  been  verging  towards  ex- 
tinction. None  remain  of  the  mighty ;  the 
race  of  giants  is  no  more  ;  the  lights  that 
have  been  extinguished  burn  in  no  other 
hands ;  we  have  fallen  on  evil  days,  when 
letters  are  no  longer  in  honour  with  the 
world,  nor  are  they  cultivated  by  those  who 
deserve  to  be  honoured.  Such  are  the  lam- 
entations of  many  throughout  the  whole 
sixteenth  century ;  and  with  such  do  Sca- 
liger  and  Casaubon  greet  that  which  open- 
ed upon  them.  Yet  the  first  part  of  the 
seventeenth  century  may  be  reckoned  em- 
inently the  learned  age  ;  rather,  however, 
in  a  more  critical  and  exact  erudition  with 
respect  to  historical  fact,  than  in  what  is 
strictly  called  philology,  as  to  which  we 
cannot,  on  the  whole,  rank  this  so  high  as 
the  preceding  period.  Neither  Italy  nor 
Germany  maintained  its  reputation,  which, 
as  it  has  been  already  mentioned,  had  be- 
gun to  wane  towards  the  close  of  the  six- 
teenth century.  The  same  causes  were 
at  work,  the  same  preference  of  studies 
very  foreign  to  polite  letters,  metaphysi- 
cal philosophy,  dogmatic  theology,  patris- 
tic or  mediaeval  ecclesiastical  history,  or, 
in  some  countries,  the  physical  sciences, 
which  were  rapidly  gaining  ground.  And 
to  these  we  must  add  a  prevalence  of  bad 
taste,  even  among  those  who  had  some 


pretensions  to  be  reckoned  scholars.  Lip- 
sius  had  set  an  example  of  abandoning 
the  purest  models ;  and  his  followers  had 
less  sense  and  taste  than  himself.  They 
sought  obsolete  terms  from  Pacuvius  and 
Plautus ;  they  affected  pointed  sentences, 
and  a  studied  conciseness  of  period,  which 
made  their  style  altogether  dry  and  je- 
june.* The  universities,  and  even  the 
gymnasia  or  schools  of  Germany,  grew 
negligent  of  all  the  beauties  of  language. 
Latin  itself  was  acquired  in  a  slovenly 
manner,  by  the  help  of  modern  books, 
which  spared  the  pains  of  acquiring  any 
subsidiary  knowledge  of  antiquity.  And 
this  neglect  of  the  ancient  writers  in  edu- 
cation caused  even  eminent  scholars  to 
write  ill,  as  we  perceive  in  the  supple- 
ments of  Freinshemius  to  Curtius  and 
Livy.f 

2.  A  sufficient  evidence  of  this  is  found 
in  the  vast  popularity  which  the  popuiarjty 
writings  of  Comenius  acquired  in  of  Come- 
Germany.  This  author,  a  man  nius- 
of  much  industry,  some  ingenuity,  and 
little  judgment,  made  himself  a  colossal 
reputation  by  his  Orbis  Sensualium  Pictus, 
and  still  more  by  his  Janua  Linguarum 
Reserata,  the  latter  published  in  1631. 
This  contains,  in  100  chapters  subdivided 
into  1000  paragraphs,  more  than  9300 
Latin  words,  exclusive,  of  course,  of  such 
as  recur.  The  originality  of  its  method 
consists  in  weaving  all  useful  words  into 
a  series  of  paragraphs,  so  that  they  may 
be  learned  in  a  short  time,  without  the  te- 
diousness  of  a  nomenclature.  It  was  also 
intended  to  blend  a  knowledge  of  things 


*  Biogr.  Univ.,  art.  Gramus.    Eichhorn,  iii.,  I. 
320. 
t  Eichhorn,  326. 


14 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


with  one  of  words.*  The  Orbis  Sensuali- 
um  Pictus  has  the  same  end.  This  is  what 
has  since  been  so  continually  attempted  in 
books  of  education,  that  some  may  be 
surprised  to  hear  of  its  originality.  No 
one,  however,  before  Comenius  seems  to 
have  thought  of  this  method.  It  must, 
unquestionably,  have  appeared  to  facilitate 
the  early  acquirement  of  knowledge  in  a 
very  great  degree ;  and,  even  with  refer- 
ence to  language,  if  a  compendious  mode 
of  getting  at  Latin  words  were  the  object, 
the  works  of  Comenius  would  answer  the 
purpose  beyond  those  of  any  classical  au- 
thor. In  a  country  where  Latin  was  a 
living  and  spoken  tongue,  as  was  in  some 
measure  the  case  with  Germany,  no  great 
strictness  in  excluding  barbarous  phrases 
is  either  practicable  or  expedient.  But, 
according  to  the  received  principles  of 
philological  literature,  they  are  such  books 
as  every  teacher  would  keep  out  of  the 
hands  of  his  pupils.  They  were,  never- 
theless, reprinted  and  translated  in  many 
countries",  and  obtained  a  general  recep- 
tion, especially  in  the  German  empire,  and 
similarly  circumstanced  kingdoms. f 

3.  The  Greek  language,  meantime,  was 
Decline  thought  unnecessary,  and  few,  com- 
of  Greek  paratively  speaking,  continued  to 
learning.  prosecute  jts  study.  In  Italy  it 
can  merely  be  said  that  there  were  still 
professors  of  it  in  the  universities ;  but 
no  one  Hellenist  distinguishes  this  centu- 
ry. Most  of  those  who  published  editions 
of  Greek  authors  in  Germany,  and  they 
were  far  from  numerous,  had  been  formed 
in  the  last  age.  The  decline  was  progress- 
ive ;  few  scholars  remained  after  1620,  and 
a  long  blank  ensued,  until  Fabricius  and 
Kuster  restored  the  study  of  Greek  near 
the  end  of  the  century.  Even  in  France 
and  Holland,  where  many  were  abundantly 
learned,  and  some,  as  we  shall  see,  accom- 
plished philologers,  the  Greek  language 
seems  to  have  been  either  less  regarded, 


*  Biogr.  Univ. 

t  Baillet,  Critiques  Grammairiens,  part  of  the 
Jugemens  des  Sqavans  (whom  I  cite  by  the  num- 
ber or  paragraph,  on  account  of  the  different  edi- 
tions), No.  634,  quotes  Lancelot's  remark  on  the 
Janua  Linguarum,  that  it  requires  a  better  memory 
than  most  boys  possess  to  master  it,  and  that,  com- 
monly, the  first  part  is  forgotten  before  the  last  is 
learned.  It  excites  disgust  in  the  scholar,  because 
he  is  always  in  a  new  country,  every  chapter  being 
filled  with  words  he  has  not  seen  before  ;  and  the 
successive  parts  of  the  book  have  no  connexion 
with  one  another. 

Morhof,  though  he  would  absolutely  banish  the 
Janua  Linguarum  from  all  schools  where  good  La- 
tinity  i3  required,  seems  to  think  rather  better  of 
the  Orbis  Sensualium  Pictus,  as  in  itself  a  happ; 
idea,  though  the  delineations  are  indifferent,  and  th< 
whole  not  so  welfarranged  as  it  might  be. — Poly 
histor,  lib.  ii.,  c.  4. 


or,  at  least,  less  promoted  by  eminent 
scholars  than  in  the  preceding  century.* 
4.  Casaubon  now  stood  on  the  pinnacle 
of  critical  renown.  His  Persius 
n  1605,  and  his  Polybius  in  1609, 
were  testimonies  to  his  continued  industry 
n  this  province.!  But  with  this  latter  edi- 
;ion  the  philological  labours  of  Casaubon 
came  to  an  end.  In  1610  he  accepted  the 
'nvitatjon  of  James  I.,  who  bestowed  upon 
him,  though  a  layman,  a  prebend  in.  the 
church  of  Canterbury,  and,  as  some,  per- 
tiaps  erroneously,  have  said,  another  in 
that  of  Westminster.J  He  died  in  Eng- 
land within  four  years  after,  having  con- 
sumed the  intermediate  time  in  the  de- 
fence of  his  royal  patron  against  the  Jes- 
uits, and  in  writing  Animadversions  on  the 
Annals  of  Baronius ;  works  ill  suited  to 
his  peculiar  talent,  and  in  the  latter  of 
which  he  is  said  to  have  had  but  little  suc- 
cess. He  laments,  in  his  epistles,  the 
want  of  leisure  for  completing  his  labours 
on  Polybius  ;  the  king  had  no  taste  but  for 
theology,  and  he  found  no  library  in  which 
he  could  pursue  his  studies. §  "  I  gave  up," 


*  Scaliger,  even  in  1602,  says:  Quis  hodienescit 
Greece  ?  sed  quis  est  doctus  Graece?  Non  dubito 
esse  aliquot,  sed  paucos,  et  quqs  non  novi  ne  de 
nomine  quidem.  Te  unum  novi  et  memoris  avp- 
rum  et  nostri  saeculi  Graece  doctissimum,  qui  unis 
in  Graecis  praestiteias,  quae  post  renatas  apud  nos 
bonas  literas  omnes  nunquam  praestare  potuissent. 
He  goes  on  to  speak  of  himself  as  standing  next 
to  Casaubon,  and  the  only  competent  judge  of  the 
extent  of  his  learning;  qui  de  praestantia  doctrinae 
tuse  certo  judicare  possit,  ego  aut  unicus  sum,  aut 
qui  caeteros  hac  in  re  magno  intervallo  vinco. — Seal., 
Epist.  72. 

t  The  translation  that  Casaubon  has  here  given 
of  Polybius  has  generally  passed  for  excellent, 
though  some  have  thought  him  a  better  scholar  in 
Greek  than  in  Latin,  and  consequently  not  always 
able  to  render  the  sense  as  well  as  he  conceived  it. 
—Baillet,  n.  902.  Schweighauser  praises  the  an- 
notations, but  not  without  the  criticism  for  which 
a  later  editor  generally  finds  room  in  an  earlier. 
Reiske,  he  says,  had  pointed  out  many  errors. 

J  The  latter  is  contradicted  by  Beloe,  Anecdotes 
of  Literature,  vol.  v.,  p.  126,  on  the  authority  of  Le 
Neve's  Fas'ti  Ecclesia?  Anglicans. 

\/  Jacent  curas  Polybianae,  et  fortasse  aetemum  ja- 
cebunt,  neque  enim  satis  commodus  ad  ilia  studia 
est  locus. — Epist.  705.  Plura  adderem,  nisi  omni 
librorum  praesidio  meorum  deficerer.  Quare  etiam 
de  commentariis  Polybianis  noli  meminisse,  quando 
rationes  priorum  meorum  studiorum  hoc  iter  miri- 
fic&  conturbavit,  ut  vix  sine  suspirio  ejus  incepti 
possim  meminisse,  quod  tot  vigiliis  mini  constitit. 
Sed  neque  adest  mea  bibliptheca,  neque  ea  studia 
multum  sunt  ad  gustum  illius,  cujus  solius,  quam- 
diu  hie  sum  futurus,  habenda  mini  ratio.— Ep.  704 
(Feb.,  1611).  Rexoptimus  atque  nxrtfitoraToj  rebus 
theologicis  ita  delectatur,  ut  aliis  curis  literariis  non 
multum  operae  impendat. — Ep.  872.  Ego  quid  hie 
agam,  si  cupis  scire,  hoc  unum  respondebo,  omnia 
priora  studia  mea  funditus  interiisse.  Nam  maxi- 
mus  rex  et  liberalissimus  unico  genere  literamm  sic 
capitur,  ut  suum  et  suorum  ingenia  in  illo  detineat, 
— Ep.  753. 


FROM  1600  TO  1650. 


15 


he  says,  "  at  last,  with  great  sorrow,  my 
commentary  on  Polybius,  to  which  I  had 
devoted  so  much  time,  but  the  good  king 
must  be  obeyed."*  Casaubon  was  the  last 
of  the  great  scholars  of  the  sixteenth  cen- 
tury. Joseph  Scaliger,  who,  especially  in 
his  recorded  conversation,  was  very  spa- 
ring of  praise,  says  expressly,  "  Casaubon 
is  the  most  learned  man  now  living."  It 
is  not  impossible  that  he  meant  to  except 
himself,  which  would  by  no  means  be  un- 
just, if  we  take  in  the  whole  range  of  er- 
udition ;  but  in  the  exactly  critical  knowl- 
edge of  the  Greek  language,  Casaubon  had 
not  even  a  rival  in  Scaliger. 

5.  A  long  period  ensued,  during  which  no 
Viger  de  very  considerable  progress  was 
Wiotismis.  made  in  Greek  literature.  Few 
books  occur  before  the  year  1650  which 
have  obtained  a  durable  reputation.  The 
best  known,  and,  as  I  conceive,  by  far  the 
best  of  a  grammatical  nature,  is  that  of 
Viger  de  Idiotismis  praecipuis  Gracae  Lin- 
guae, which  Hoogeveen  and  Zeunius  suc- 
cessively enlaced  in  the  last  century. 
Viger  was  a  Jesuit  of  Rouen,  and  the  first 
edition  was  in  1632.  It  contains,  even 
as  it  came  from  the  author,  many  valu- 
able criticisms,  and  its  usefulness  to  a 
Greek  scholar  is  acknowledged.  But,  in 
order  to  determine  the  place  of  Viger 
among  grammarians,  we  should  ascertain, 
by  comparison  with  preceding  works,  es- 
pecially the  Thesaurus  of  Stephens,  for 
how  much  he  is  indebted  to  their  labours. 
He  would  probably,  after  all  deductions, 
appear  to  merit  great  praise.  His  ar- 
rangement is  more  clear,  and  his  knowl- 
edge of  syntax  more  comprehensive,  than 
that  of  Caninius  or  any  other  earlier  wri- 
ter ;  but  his  notions  are  not  unfrequently 
imperfect  or  erroneous,  as  the  succeeding 
editors  have  pointed  out.  In  common 
with  many  of  the  older  grammarians,  he 
fancied  a  difference  of  sense  between  the 
two  aorists,  wherein  even  Zeunius  has 
followed  him.f 

6.  In  a  much  lower  rank  we  may,  per- 
Weiier's  haps,  next  place  Weller,  author  of 
Greek  a  Greek  grammar,  published  in 
grammar.  1638)  of  which  its  later  editor, 
Fischer,  says  that  it  has  always  stood  in 
high  repute  as  a  schoolbook,  and  been  fre- 

*  Decessi  gemens  a  Polybiano  commentario, 
quern  tot  laboribus  concinnaveram  ;  sed  regi  optimo 
parendum  erat— Ep.  854  ,  Feb.,  1613. 

t  An  earlier  treatise  on  Greek  particles  by  De- 
varius,  a  Greek  of  the  Ionian  Islands,  might  have 
been  mentioned  in  a  former  place.  It  was  repub- 
lished  by  Reusmann,  who  calls  Devarius  homo  olim 
baud  ignobilis,  at  hodie  paene  neglectus.  He  is 
thought  too  subtle  in  grammar,  but  seems  to  have 
been  an  excellent  scholar.  I  do  not  perceive  that 
Viger  has  borrowed  from  him. 


quently  reprinted ;  meaning,  doubtless,  in 
Germany.  There  is  nothing  striking  in 
Weller's  grammar ;  it  may  deserve  praise 
for  clearness  and  brevity ;  but  in  Vergara, 
Caninius,  and  Sylburgius  there  is  much 
more  instruction  for  those  who  are  not 
merely  schoolboys.  What  is  most  re- 
markable is,  that  Weller  claims  as  his  own 
the  reduction  of  the  declensions  to  three, 
and  of  the  conjugations  to  one  ;  which,  as 
has  been  seen  in  our  first  volume,*  is  found 
in  the  grammar  of  Sylburgius,  and  is  prob- 
ably due  to  Ramus.  This  is  rather  a  piece 
of  effrontery,  as  he  could  scarcely  have 
lighted  by  coincidence  on  both  these  inno- 
vations. Weller  has  given  no  syntax; 
what  is  added  in  Fischer's  edition  is  by 
Lambert  Bos. 

7.  Philip  Labbe,  a  French  Jesuit,  was  a 
laborious  compiler,  among  whose  Labbe  and 
numerous  works  not  a  few  relate  °">ers. 
to  the  grammar  of  the  Greek  language. 
He  had,  says  Niceron,  a  wonderful  talent 
in  multiplying  title-pages  ;  we  have  fifteen 
or  sixteen  grammatical  treatises  from  him, 
which  might  have  been  comprised  in  two 
or  three  ordinary  volumes.  Labbe's  Reg- 
uke  Accentuum,  published  in  1635,  was 
once,  I  believe,  of  some  repute ;  but  he 
has  little  or  nothing  of  his  own.f  The 
Greek  grammars  published  in  this  age  by 
Alexander  Scot  and  others  are  ill-digested, 
according  to  Lancelot,  without  order  or 
principle,  and  full  of  useless  and  perplex- 
ing things  ;J  and  that  of  Vossius,  in  1642, 
which  is  only  an  improved  edition  of  that 
of  Clenardus,  appears  to  contain  little 
which  is  not  taken  from  others. $  Eras- 
mus Schmidt  is  said  by  Eichhorn  to  be  the 
author  of  a  valuable  work  on  Greek  dia- 
lects ;||  George  Pasor  is  better,  known  by 
his  writings  on  the  Hellenistic  dialect,  or 
that  of  the  Septuagint  and  New  Testa- 
ment. Salmasius,  in  his  Commentarius 
de  Hellenistica  (Leyden,  1643),  Salmasius 
has  gone  very  largely  into  this  de  Linguas 
subject.  This,  he  says,  is  a  Hellenistica. 
question  lately  agitated,  whether  there  be 
a  peculiar  dialect  of  the  Greek  Scriptures ; 
For,  in  the  last  age,  the  very  name  of  Hel- 
lenistic was  unknown  to  scholars.  It  is 
not  above  half  a  century  old.  It  was  sup- 
posed to  be  a  Hebrew  idiom  in  Greek 
words ;  which,  as  he  argues  elaborately 
and  with  great  learning,  is  not  sufficient 
to  constitute  a  distinct  dialect,  none  of  the 
ancients  having  ever  mentioned  one  by 
this  name.  This  is  evidently  much  of  a 
verbal  dispute  ;  since  no  one  would  apply 
the  word  to  the  Scriptural  Greek,  in  the 

*  Page  252,  col.  i.          f  Niceron,  vol.  xxv. 
t  Baillet,  n.  706.  $  Id.,  n.  711. 

U  Oeschichte  der  Cultur,  iii.,  325. 


16 


same  sense  that  he  does  to  the  Doric  and 
Attic.  Salmasius  lays  down  two  essen- 
tial characteristics  of  a  dialect :  one,  that 
it  should  be  spoken  by  people  differing  in 
locality ;  another,  that  it  should  be  distin- 
guishable by  single  words,  not  merely  by 
idiom.  A  profusion  of  learning  is  scattered 
all  round,  but  not  pedantically  or  imperti- 
nently ;  and  this  seems  a  very  useful  book 
in  Greek  or  Latin  philology.  He  may,  per- 
haps, be  thought  to  underrate  the  peculiar- 
ities of  language  in  the  Old  and  New  Tes- 
taments, as  if  they  were  merely  such  as 
passed  current  among  the  contemporary 
Greeks.  The  second  part  of  this  Com- 
mentary relates  to  the  Greek  dialects  gen- 
erally, without  reference  to  the  Hellenis- 
tic. He  denies  the  name  to  what  is  usu- 
ally called  the  common  dialect,  spoken,  or 
at  least  written,  by  the  Greeks  in  general 
lifter  the  time  of  Alexander.  This  also  is, 
of  course,  a  question  of  words ;  perhaps 
Salmasius  used  a  more  convenient  phra- 
seology than  what  is  often  met  with  in 
grammarians. 

8.  Editions  of  Greek  classics  are  not  so 
numerous  as  in  the  former  period.  The 
Pindar  of  Erasmus  Schmidt  in  1614,  and 
the  Aristotle  of  Duval  in  1619,  may  be 
mentioned :  the  latter  is  still  in  request, 
as  a  convenient  and  complete  edition. 
Meursius  was  reckoned  a  good  critical 
scholar,  but  his  works  as  an  editor  are  not 
very  important.  The  chief  monument  of 
his  philological  erudition  is  the  Lexicon 
Greek  edi-  Graeco-Barbarum,  a  glossary  of 
tions-sa-  the  Greek  of  the  lower  empire. 
rsie'sChry-  But  no  edition  of  a  Greek  au- 

lom*  thor  published  in  the  -first  part 
of  the  seventeenth  century  is  superior,  at 
least  in  magnificence,  to  that  of  Chrysos- 
tom  by  Sir  Henry  Savile.  This  came  forth, 
in  1612,  from  a  press  established  at  Eton 
by  himself,  provost  of  that  college.  He 
had  procured  types  and  pressmen  in  Hol- 
land, and  three  years  had  been  employed 
in  printing  the  eight  volumes  of  this  great 
work;  one  which,  both  in  splendour  of 
execution  and  in  the  erudition  displayed 
in  it  by  Savile,  who  had  collected  several 
manuscripts  of  Chrysostom,  leaves  im- 
measurably behind  it  every  earlier  produc- 
tion of  the  English  press.  The  expense, 
which  is  said  to  have  been  eight  thousand 
pounds,  was  wholly  defrayed  by  himself, 
and  the  tardy  sale  of  so  voluminous  a 
work  could  not  have  reimbursed  the  cost.* 


*  Beloe's  Anecdotes  of  Literature,  vol.  v.,  p.  103. 
The  copies  sold  for  9Z.  each ;  a  sum  equal  to  nearly 
301.  at  present,  and  from  the  relative  wealth  of  the 
country,  to  considerably  more.  What  wonder  that 
the  sale  was  slow  ?  Fuller,  however,  tells  us,  that 
when  he  wrote,  almost  half  a  century  afterward, 
the  book  was  become  scarce.  Chrysostomus,  says 


Another  edition,  in  fact,  by  a  Jesuit,  Fron- 
to  Ducacus  (Fronton  le  Due),  was  publish- 
ed at  Paris  within  two  years  afterward, 
having  the  advantage  of  a  Latin  transla- 
tion, which  Savile  had  imprudently  waved. 
It  has  even  been  imputed  to  Ducaeus,  that, 
having  procured  the  sheets  of  Savile's 
edition  from  the  pressmen  while  it  was 
under  their  hands,  he  printed  his  own  with- 
out alteration.  But  this  seems  an  apocry- 
phal story.*  Savile  had  the  assistance,  in 
revising  the  text,  of  the  most  learned  co- 
adjutors he  could  find  in  England. 

9.  A  very  few  more  Greek  books  were 
printed  at  Eton  soon  afterward  ;  Greek 
and,  though  that  press  soon  ceas-  learning  in 
ed,  some  editions  of  Greek  au-  Ensland- 
thors,  generally  for  schools,  appeared  in 
England  before  1650.  One  of  these,  the 
Poetae  Minores  of  Winterton,  is  best 
known,  and  has  sometimes  been  reprint- 
ed ;  it  does  little  credit  to  its  original  edi- 
tor, the  text  being  exceedingly  corrupt,  and 
the  notes  very  trifling.  The  Greek  lan- 
guage, however,  was  now  much  studied  ;f 


Casaubon,  a  Savilio  editur  pnvata  impensa,  animo 
regio. — Ep.  738  (apud  Beloe).  The  principal  as- 
sistants of  Savile  were,  Matthew  Bust,  Thomas 
Allen,  and  especially  Richard  Montagu,  afterward 
celebrated  in  our  ecclesiastical  history  as  Bishop  of 
Chichester,  who  is  said  to  have  corrected  the  text 
before  it  went  to  the  press.  As  this  is  the  first 
work  of  learning,  on  a  great  scale,  published  in 
England,  it  deserves  the  particular  commemoration 
of  those  to  whom  we  owe  it. 

"•  It  is  told  by  Fuller,  and  I  do  not  know  that  it 
has  any  independent  confirmation.  Savile  himself 
says  of  Fronto  Ducasus,  "  Vir  doctissimus,  et  cui 
Chrysostomus  noster  plurimum  debet."  Fuller,  it 
may  be  observed,  says,  that  the  Parisian  edition 
followed  Savile's  "in  a  few  months,"  whereas  the 
time  was  two  years ;  and,  as  Brunei  (Manuel  du  Li* 
braire)  justly  observes,  there  is  no  apparent  neces- 
sity to  suppose  an  unfair  communication  of  the 
sheets,  even  if  the  text  should  be  proved  to  be  cop- 
ied. 

t  It  might  appear,  at  first  sight,  that  Casaubon 
intended  to  send  his  son  Meric  to  Holland,  under 
the  care  of  Heinsius,  because  he  could  not  get  a 
good  classical  education  in  England.  Cupio  in 
Graecis,  Latinis,  et  Hebraicis  literis  ipsum  serio  ex- 
erceri.  Hoc  in  Anglia  posse  fieri  sperare  non  pos- 
surrius ;  nam  hie  locupletissima  sunt  collegia,  sed 
quorum  ratio  toto  genere  diversa  est  ab  institutis 
omnium  aliorum  collegiorum.— Ep.  962(1614).  But 
possibly  he  meant  that,  on  account  of  his  son's  for- 
eign birth,  he  could  not  be  admitted  on  the  founda- 
tion of  English  colleges,  though  the  words  do  not 
clearly  express  this.  At  the  king's  command,  how- 
ever, Meric  was  sent  to  Oxford.  One  of  Casau- 
bon's  sons  went  to  Eton  school ;  literis  dat  operam 
in  gymnasio  Etoniensi. — Ep.  737  (apud  Beloe's  An- 
ecdotes ;  I  had  overlooked  the  passage).  Theolog- 
ical learning,  in  the  reign  of  James,  opposed  polite 
letters  and  philology.  Est  in  Anglia,  says  Casau 
bon,  theologorum  ingens  copia ;  eoenim  fere  omne» 
studia  sua  referunt.  — Ep.  762.  Venio  ex  Anglia 
(Grotius  writes  in  1613),  literarum  ibi  tenuis  est 
merces;  theologi  regnant,  leguleii  rem  faciunt ; 
unus  ferme  Casaubonus  habet  fortunam  satis  faven- 
tem,  sed,  ut  ipse  judicat,  minus  certain.  Ne  huic 


FROM  1600  TO  1650. 


17 


the  age  of  James  and  Charles  was  truly 
learned;  our  writers  are  prodigal  of  ar 
abundant  erudition,  which  embraces  a  far 
wider  range  of  authors  than  are  now  read 
the  philosophers  of  every  class,  the  poets 
the  historians  and  orators  of  Greece,  to 
»vhom  few  comparatively  had  paid  regard 
ill  the  days  of  Elizabeth,  seem  as  familiar 
to  the  miscellaneous  writers  of  her  next 
successors  as  the  fathers  of  the  church 
are  to  the  theologians.  A  few,  like  Jere- 
my Taylor,  are  equally  copious  in  their  li- 
bations from  both  streams.  But,  though 
thus  deeply  read  in  ancient  learning,  our 
old  scholars  were  not  very  critical  in  phi- 
lology. 

10.  In  Latin  criticism,  the  pretensions 
Latin  edi-  °f  the  seventeenth  century  are 
nous :  Tor-  far  more  considerable  than  in 
rentius.  Greek.  The  first  remarkable 
edition,  however,  that  of  Horace  by  Tor- 
rentius,  a  Belgian  ecclesiastic,  though  it 
appeared  in  1602,  being  posthumous,  be- 
longs strictly  to  the  preceding  age.  It  has 
been  said  that  Dacier  borrowed  much  for 
his  own  notes  from  this  editor ;  but  Hor- 
ace was  so  profusely  illustrated  in  the  six- 
teenth century,  that  little  has  been  left  for 
later  critics,  except  to  tamper,  as  they 
have  largely  done,  with  his  text.  This 
period  is  not  generally  conspicuous  for 
editions  of  Latin  authors  ;  but  some  names 
of  high  repute  in  grammatical  and  critical 
lore  belong  to  it. 

11.  Gruter,  a  native  of  Antwerp,  who 
became  a  professor  in  several  Ger- 
lter-  man  universities,  and  finally  in  that 
of  Heidelberg,  might  have  been  mentioned 
in  our  history  of  the  sixteenth  century, 
before  the  expiration  of  which  some  of 
his  critical  labours  had  been  accomplished. 
Many  more  belong  to  the  first  twenty 
years  of  the  present.  No  more  diligent 
and  indefatigable  critic  ever  toiled  in  that 
quarry.  His  Suspiciones,  an  early  work, 
in  which  he  has  explained  and  amended 
miscellaneous  passages,  his  annotations 
on  the  Senecas,  on  Martial,  on  Statius,  on 
the  Roman  historians,  as  well  as  another 
more  celebrated  compilation  which  we 
shall  have  soon  to  mention,  bear  witness 
to  his  immense  industry.  In  Greek  he 
did  comparatively  but  little ;  yet  he  is 
counted  among  good  scholars  in  that  lan- 
guage. All  others  of  his  time,  it  has  been 
said,  appear  mere  drones  in  comparison 
with  him.*  Scaliger,  indeed,  though  on  in- 
timate terms  with  Gruter,  in  one  of  his 
usual  fits  of  spleen,  charges  him  with  a 
tasteless  indifference  to  the  real  merit  of 

quidem -locus  fuisset  in  Anglia  ut  literatori,  theolo- 
gum  induere  debuit. — Epist.  Grot.,  p.  751. 

*  Baillet,  n.  483.    Bayle.     Niceron,  vol.  ix. 

VOL.  II.— C 


the  writers  whom  he  explained,  one  being 
as  good  as  another  for  his  purpose,  which 
was  only  to  produce  a  book.*  In  this  art 
Gruter  was  so  perfect,  that  he  never  failed 
to  publish  one  every  year,  and  sometimes 
every  month.t  His  eulogists  have  given 
him  credit  for  acuteness  and  judgment, 
and  even  for  elegance  and  an  agreeable 
variety  ;  but  he  seems  not  to  have  preserv- 
ed much  repute  except  for  his  laborious 
erudition. 

12.  Daniel  Heinsius,  conspicuous  as  sec- 
retary of  the  Synod  of  Dort,  and  a      . 
Latin  poet  of  distinguished  name, 

was  also  among  the  first  philologers  of  his 
age.  Many  editions  of  Greek  and  Latin 
writers,  or  annotations  upon  them,  The- 
ocritus, Hesiod,  Maximus  Tyrius,  Aristo- 
tle, Horace,  Terence,  Silius,  Ovid,  attest 
his  critical  skill.  He  is  praised  for  a  ju- 
dicious reserve  in  criticism,  avoiding  the 
trifles  by  which  many  scholars  had  weari- 
ed their  readers,  and  attending  only  to 
what  really  demanded  the  aid  of  a  critic, 
as  being  corrupt  or  obscure.  His  learn- 
ing was  very  extensive  and  profound,  so 
that,  in  the  panegyrical  tone  of  the  times, 
he  is  set  above  all  the  living  and  almost 
above  all  the  dead.J 

13.  Grotius  contributed  much  to  ancient 
philology.     His  editions  of  Aratus,        . 
Stobaius,  the  fragments  of  the  lost 
Greek  dramas,  Lucan,  and  Tacitus,  are  but 
a  part  of  those  which  he  published.     In 
the  power  of  illustrating  a  writer  by  par- 
allel or  resembling  passages  from  others, 
however  remote,  his  taste  and  fondness 
for  poetry,  as  much  as  his  vast  erudition, 
have  made  him  remarkable.     In  mere  crit- 
ical skill  he  was  not  quite  so  great  a  mas- 
ter of  the  Greek  as  of  the  Latin  language  ; 
nor  was  he  equal  to  restoring  the  text  of 
the  dramatic  poets. 

14.  The  Variae  Lectiones  of  Rutgersius 
in  1618,  whose  premature  death  nmgersius, 
cut  off  a  brilliant  promise  of  er-  Reinesius,' 
udition,  are  in  six  books,  almost  Barthlus- 
entirely  devoted  to  emendation  of  the  text, 
n  such  a  miscellaneous  and  desultory  se- 
ries of  criticisms  as  the  example  of  Tur- 
nebus  and   other  scholars  had  rendered 
usual. §     Reinesius,  a  Saxon  physician,  in 
1640  put  forth  a  book  with  the  same  title, 
a  thick  volume  of  about  700  pages,  of 
multifarious  learning,  chiefly,  but  not  ex 

lusively,  classical.     He  is-  more  interpre- 


*  Non  curat  utrum  chartasit  cacata,  modo  libros 
multos  excudat. —  Scalig.  Secunda. 

t  Bayle,  note  i.  I  Baillet,  n.  517. 

§  "This  work,"  says  Niceron  (vol.  xxxii.),  "is 
n  esteem  :  the  style  is  neat  and  polite,  the  thoughts 
»re  just  and  refined ;  it  has  no  more  quotations  than 
he  subject  requires." 


18 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


tative,  and  less  attentive  to  restore  cor- 
rupted texts  than  Rutgersius.*  The  Ad- 
versaria of  Caspar  Barthius  are  better 
known.  This  work  is  in  60  books,  and  ex- 
tends to  about  1500  pages  in  folio.  It  is  ex- 
actly like  those  of  Turnebus  and  Muretus, 
an  immense  repertory  of  unconnected  crit- 
icisms and  other  miscellaneous  erudition. 
The  chapters  exceed  in  number  the  pages, 
and  each  chapter  contains  several  articles. 
There  is,  however,  more  connexion,  alpha- 
betical or  otherwise,  than  in  Turnebus  ; 
and  they  are  less  exclusively  classical, 
many  relating  to  mediaeval  and  modern 
writers.  The  sixtieth  book  is  a  commen- 
tary on  apart  of  Augustin  de  Civitate  Dei. 
It  is  difficult  to  give  a  more  precise  notion 
of  Barthius ;  he  is  more  esthetic  than 
Turnebus,  but  less  so  than  Muretus ;  he 
explains  and  corrects  fewer  intricate  texts 
than  the  former,  but  deals  more  in  paral- 
lel passages  and  excursive  illustration. f 
Though  Greek  appears  more  than  in  Tur- 
nebus, by  far  the  greater  part  of  Barthius's 
Adversaria  relates  to  Latin,  in  the  propor- 
tion of  at  least  fifteen  to  on«.  A  few 
small  poems  are  printed  from  manuscripts 
for  the  first  time.  Barthius,  according  to 
Morhof,  though  he  sometimes  explains  au- 
thors very  well,  is  apt  to  be  harsh  in  his 
alterations,  hasty  in  his  judgments,  and 
has  too  much  useless  and  frivolous  mat- 
ter. Bayle  is  not  more  favourable.  Bar- 
thius published  an  edition  of  Statius,  and 
another  of  Claudian. 

15.  Rigault  or  Rigaltius,  Petit,  Thysius, 

*  Bayle  observes  of  the  writings  of  Keinesins  in 
general,  that  "good  judges  of  literature  have  no 
sooner  read  some  pages  but  they  place  him  above 
those  philologers  who  have  only  a  good  memory, 
and  rank  him  with  critics  who  go  beyond  their  read- 
ing, and  know  more  than  books  have  taught  them. 
The  penetration  of  their  understanding  makes  them 
draw  consequences  and  form  conjectures  which 
lead  them  to  discover  hidden  treasures.  Reinesius 
was  one  of  these,  and  made  it  his  chief  business  to 
find  out  what  others  had  not  said." 

t  The  following  are  the  heads  of  the  fourth  chap- 
ter of  the  first  book,  which  may  serve  as  a  speci- 
men of  the  Adversaria:  Ad  Victoris  Uticensis  li- 
brum  primum  nota3  et  emendationes.  Limites.  Col- 
limitia.  Quantitas.  H.  Stephanas  notatur.  Ini- 
pendere.  Tottim.  Omnimode1.  Dextrales.  Asta. 
Francisii  Balduini  audacia  castigatur.  Tormenta 
antiqua.  Liguamen  Arxcapitis.  Memoriae.  Cru- 
iiari.  Balduinus  denuo  aliquoties  notatur.  It  is 
ktue  that  all  this  farrago  arises  out  of  one  passage 
in  Victor  of  Utica,  and  Barthius  is  far  from  being 
so  desultory  as  Turnebus;  but  3000  columns  of 
such  notes  make  but  a  dictionary  without  the  help 
of  the  alphabet.  Barthius  tells  us  himself  that  he 
had  finished  two  other  volumes  of  Adversaria,  be- 
sides correcting  the  first. — See  the  passage  in  Bayle, 
note  K.  But  he  does  not  stand  on  very  high  ground 
»s  a  critic,  on  account,  of  the  rapidity  with  which 
ne  wrote,  and  for  the  same  reason  has  sometimes 
contradicted  himself. — Bayle.  Baillet,  n  528.  Ni- 
ceron,  vol.  \ii.,  Morhof,  lib.  v.,  1, 10. 


and  several  more,  do  honour  to  Other 
France  and  the  Low  Countries  du-  critics: 
ring  this  period.  Spain,  though  English- 
not  strong  in  classical  philology,  produced 
Ramiresius  de  Prado,  whose  Ilevr^/coKrap- 
X°f,  sive  quinquaginta  militum  ductor,  1612, 
is  but  a  book  of  criticism  with  a  quaint  ti- 
tle.* In  Latin  literature  we  can  hardly 
say  that  England  made  herself  more  con- 
spicuous than  in  Greek.  The  notes  of 
John  Bond  on  Horace,  published  in  1606, 
are  properly  a  work  of  the  age  of  Eliza- 
beth :  the  author  was  long  a  schoolmaster 
in  that  reign.  These  notes  are  only  little 
marginal  scholia  for  the  use  of  boys  of 
no  great  attainments  ;  and  in  almost  every 
instance,  I  believe,  taken  from  Lambinus. 
This  edition  of  Horace,  though  Antony 
Wood  calls  the  author  a  most  noted  critic 
and  grammarian,  has  only  the  merit  of 
giving  the  observations  concisely  and  per- 
spicuously. Thomas  Farnaby  is  called  by 
Baillet  one  of  the  best  scholiasts,  who 
aays  hardly  anything  useless,  and  is  very 
concise. f  He  has  left  notes  on  several  of 
the  Latin  poets.  It  is  possible  that  the 
notes  are  compiled,  like  those  of  Bond, 
from  the  foreign  critics.  Farnaby  also 
was  a  schoolmaster,  and  schoolmasters  do 
not  write  for  the  learned.  He  has,  how- 
ever, been  acknowledged  on  the  Continent 
for  a  diligent  and  learned  man.  Wood 
says  he  was  "  the  chief  grammarian,  rhet- 
orician, poet,  Latinist,  and  Grecian  of  his 
time ;  and  his  school  was  so  much  fre- 
quented, that  more  churchmen  and  state? 
men  issued  thence  than  from  any  school 
taught  by  one  man  in  England. "J 

16.  But  the  greatest  in  this  province  of 
literature  was  Claude  Saumaise,  Salrnasiuar 
best  known  in  the  Latin  form  Sal- 
masius,  whom  the  general  suffrage  of  hia 
compeers  placed  at  their  head.  An  in- 
credible erudition,  so  that  it  was  said, 
what  Salmasius  did  not  know  was  be- 
yond the  bounds  of  knowledge  ;  a  memo- 
ry such  as  none  but  those  great  scholars 
of  former  times  seem  to  have  possessed ; 
a  life  passed,  naturally  enough,  in  solita- 
ry labour,  were  sufficient  to  establish  his 
fame  among  the  learned.  His  intellectu- 
al strength  has  been  more  questioned ;  he 
wrote,  it  has  been  alleged,  on  many  sub 
jects  he  did  not  well  understand,  and  some 
have  reduced  his  merit  to  that  of  a  gram- 
matical critic,  without  altogether  rating 
this  so  highly  as  the  world  has  done.$ 


*  This  has  been  ascribed  by  some  to  his  master 
Sanctius,  author  of  the  Minerva,  Ramirez  himself 
having  been  thought  unequal  to  such  remarks  a* 
we  find  in  it.— Baillet,  n.  527. 

t  N.  521.  t  Athens  Oxonienses,  vol.  in. 

§  Baillet,  n.  51 1 ,  is  excessively  severe  on  Salma 


FROM  1600  TO  1650. 


19 


Salmasius  was  very  proud,  self-confident, 
disdainful,  and  has,  consequently,  fallen 
into  many  errors,  and  even  contradictions, 
through  precipitancy.  In  his  controversy 
with  Milton,  for  which  he  was  little  fitted, 
he  is  rather  feeble,  and  glad  to  escape  from 
the  severity  of  his  antagonist  by  a  defence 
of  his  own  Latinity.*  The  works  of  Sal- 
masius are  numerous,  and  on  very  miscel- 
laneous subjects  ;  among  the  philological, 
his  Annotations  on  the  Historian  Augustac 
Scriptores  seem  to  deserve  mention.  But 
the  most  remarkable,  besides  the  Com- 
mentary on  the  Hellenistic  Dialect,  of 
which  an  account  has  been  given,  is  the 
Plinianoe  Exercitationes,  published  in  1629. 
These  remarks,  nominally  on  Pliny,  are, 
in  the  first  instance,  on  Solinus.  Salma- 
sius tells  us  that  he  had  spent  much  time 
on  Pliny ;  but,  finding  it  beyond  the  pow- 
ers of  one  man  to  write  a  commentary  on 
the  whole  Natural  History  of  that  author, 
he  had  chosen  Solinus,  who  is  a  mere 
compiler  from  Pliny,  and  contains  nothing 
from  any  other  source.  The  Plinianse  Ex- 
ercitationes is  a  mass  of  learning  on  the 
geography  and  natural  history  of  Pliny  in 
more  than  900  pages,  following  the  text  of 
the  Polyhistor  of  Solinus. f 

17.  It  had  been  the  desire  of  those  who 
<500(1  aspired  to  reputation  for  taste  and 
writers  eloquence  to  write  well  in  Latin, 
ei  Latin,  thejsole  language,  on  this  side  of 
the  Alps  and  Pyrenees,  to  which  the  ca- 
pacity of  choice  and  polished  expression 
was  conceded.  But  when  the  French 
tongue  was  more  cultivated  and  had  a 
criticism  of  its  own,  this  became  the  natu- 
ral instrument  of  polite  writers  in  France, 
and  the  Latin  fell  to  the  merely  learned, 
who  neglected  its  beauties.  In  England  it 
had  never  been  much  studied  for  the  pur- 


sius;  but  the  homage  due  to  his  learning  by  such 
an  age  as  that  in  which  he  lived  cannot  be  extenua- 
ted by  the  censure  of  a  man  like  Baillet,  of  exten- 
sive but  rather  superficial  attainments,  and  open 
to  much  prejudice. 

*  Milton  began  the  attack  by  objecting  to  the  use 
of  persona  for  an  individual  man  ;  but  in  this  mista- 
ken criticism  uttered  himself  the  solecism  vapulan- 
dum. — See  Johnson's  Lives  of  the  Poets.  This  ex- 
pression had  previously  been  noticed  by  Vavasseur. 

t  Nemo  adeo  ut  propriam,  suumque  veluti  reg- 
num,  sibi  criticen  vindicatum  ivit,  ac  Claudius  Sal- 
masius, qui,  queinadmodum  nihil  unquam  scripsit, 
in  quo  non  insignia  multa  artis  criticae  vestigia  de- 
prehendas,  ita  imprimis,  ut  auctores  cum  notis  et 
castigationibus  absolutissimis  editos  taceamus,  vas- 
to  illo  Plinianarum  Exercitationum  opere,  quantum 
in  eoeruditionis  genere  valeret  demonstratumdedit. 
— Morhof,  lib.  v.,  c.  1,  §  12.  The  Jesuits,  Petavius 
and  Harduin,  who  did  not  cordially  praise  any  Prot- 
estant, charged  this  book  with  passing  over  real  dif- 
ficulties, while  a  mass  of  heterogeneous  matter  was 
foisted  in.  Le  Clerc  (or  La  Croze)  vindicates  Sal- 
masius against  some  censures  of  Harduin  in  Bibl. 
Univ.,  vol.  iv. 


poses  of  style  ;  and  though  neither  in  Ger- 
many nor  the  Low  Countries  it  was  very 
customary  to  employ  the  native  language, 
the  current  Latin  of  literature  was  always 
careless  and  often  barbarous.  Even  in  It- 
aly the  number  of  good  writers  in  that 
language  was  now  very  scanty.  Two  de- 
serve to  be  commemorated  with  praise, 
both  historians  of  the  same  period.  The 
History  and  Annals  of  Grotius,  in  which 
he  seems  to  have  emulated,  with  more  dis- 
cretion than  some  others,  the  nervous 
brevity  of  Tacitus,  though  sometimes  not 
free  from  a  certain  hardness  and  want  of 
flow,  nor  equal,  consequently,  in  elegance 
to  some  productions  of  the  sixteenth  cen- 
tury, may  be  deemed  a  monument  of  vig- 
orous and  impressive  language.  The  De- 
cads  of  Famianus  Strada,  a  Roman  Jesuit, 
contain  a  history  of  the  Flemish  war,  not 
written  certainly  in  imitation  of  Tacitus, 
whom  the  author  depreciated,  but  with 
more  classical  spirit  than  we  usually  find 
in  that  age.  Scarcely  any  Latin,  howev- 
er, of  this  period  is  equal  to  that  of  Bar- 
clay in  the  Argenis  and  Euphormio.  His 
style,  though  rather  diffuse,  and  more  flor- 
id than  that  of  the  Augustan  age,  is  per- 
haps better  suited  to  his  subjects,  and  re- 
minds us  of  Petronius  Arbiter,  who  was 
probably  his  model. 

18.  Of  the  grammatical  critics,  whose 
attention  was  solely  turned  to  the  0 

..  ,.    T    , .        J.    i  Sciopprus. 

purity  of  Latin  style,  two  are 
conspicuous,  Caspar  Scioppius  and  Gerard 
Vossius.  The  first,  one  of  those  restless 
and  angry  spirits  whose  hand  is  against 
all  the  world,  lived  a  long  life  of  contro- 
versy and  satire.  His  productions,  as 
enumerated  by  Niceron,  mostly  anony- 
mous, are  about  one  hundred  ;  twenty-sev- 
en of  which,  according  to  another  list,  are 
grammatical.*  The  Protestants,  whom 
he  had  abandoned,  and  the  Jesuits,  whom 
he  would  not  join,  are  equally  the  objects 
of  his  anger.  In  literature  he  is  celebra- 
ted for  the  bitterness  of  his  attacks  on 
Cicero,  whom  he  spared  as  little  as  he  did 
his  own  contemporaries.  But  Scioppius 
was  an  admirable  master  of  the  HJS  -p^o. 
Latin  language.  All  that  is  re-  sophtcai 
membered  of  his  multifarious  pub-  Grammar- 
lications  relates  to  this.  We  owe  to  him 
a  much  improved  edition  of  the  Minerva 
of  Sanctius.  His  own  Grammatica  Phi- 
losophica  (Milan,  1628),  notwithstanding 
its  title,  has  no  pretensions  to  be  called 
anything  more  than  an  ordinary  Latin 
grammar.  In  this  I  observed  nothing  re- 
markable but  that  he  denies  the  gerund 
and  supine  to  be  parts  of  the  verb,  consid 


*  Niceron,  vol.  xxxv.    Biogr.  Univ. 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


ering  the  firsts  passive  participles,  and 
the  second  as  nouns  substantive  :  a  theo- 
ry which  seems  erroneous. 

19.  The  Infamia  Famiani  of  Scioppius 
His  infamia  was  written  against   Famianus 
Famiani.       Strada,  whom  he  hated  both  as 
a  Jesuit  and  as  one   celebrated  for  the 
beauty  of  his   style.     This  book  serves 
to  show  how  far  those  who  wrote  with 
some  eloquence,  as  Strada  certainly  did, 
fell  short  of  classical  purity.     The  faults 
pointed  out  are   often  very  obvious   to 
those  who  have  used  good  dictionaries. 
Scioppius  is,  however,  so  fastidious  as  to 
reject  words  employed  by  Seneca,  Tacitus, 
and  even  Phaedrus,  as  of  the  silver  age ; 
and  sometimes,  probably,  is  wrong  in  his 
dogmatic  assertion  of  a  negative,  that  no 
good  authority  can  be  found. 

20.  But  his  most  considerable  work  is 
Judicium   one  called  Judicium  de  Stylo  His- 
de  stylo    torico,  subjoined  to  the  last,  and 
Historico.  published  after  his  death  in  1650. 
This  treatise  consists  chiefly  of  attacks 
on  the  Latin  style  of  Thuanus,  Lipsius, 
Casaubon,  and  other  recent  authors ;  but 
in  the  course  of  it  we  find  the  remarks  of 
a  subtle  and  severe  observer  on  the  an- 
cients  themselves.      The   silver   age   he 
dates  from  the  latter  years  of  Augustus, 
placing  even  Ovid  within  it.     The  brazen 
he  carries  up  to  Vespasian.     In  the  silver 
period  he  finds  many  single  words  as  well 
as  phrases  not  agreeable  to  the  usage  of 
more   ancient  authors.     As   to  the  mod- 
eras,  the  Transalpine  writers,  he   says, 
speaking  as  an  Italian,  are   always  defi- 
cient in  purity  ;  they  mingle  the  phraseol- 
ogy of  different  ages  as  preposterously  as 
if  they  were  to  write  Greek  in  a  confusion 
of  dialects ;  they  affect  obscurity,  a  bro- 
ken structure  of  periods,  a  studied  use  of 
equivocal  terms.     This  is  particularly  per- 
ceived in  the  school  of  Lipsius,  whose  own 
faults,  however,  are  redeemed  by  many 
beauties  of  style.*    The  Italians,  on  the 


*  Transalpinis  hominibus  ex  quotidiano  Latini 
sermonis  inter  ipsos  usu,  multa  sive  barbaras,  sive 
plebeiae  ac  deletions  notae,  sic  adhaerescere  solent, 
ut  postea  cum  stylum  arripuere,  de  Latinitale  eorum 
dubitare  nequaquam  iis  in  mentem  venial.  Inde  fil 
ul  scripta  eorum  plerumque  minus  purilalis  habeanl, 
quamvis  gralia  el  venuslas  in  iis  minime  desideretur. 
Nam  base  natura  duce  melius  fiebanl,  quam  arte  aul 
studio.  Accedil  alia  causa  cur  non  aeque  pura  sil 
rnullorum  Transalpinprum  oratio,  quod  nullo  stalls 
discrimine  ac  delectu  in  autorum  lectione  versantur, 
et  ex  omnium  commixtione  varium  quoddam  ac 
mulliforme  pro  suo  quisque  ingenio  dicendi  genus 
effingunt,  contempto  hoc  Fabii  monito :  "  Diu  non 
nisi  optimus  quisque  et  qui  credenlem  sibi  minime 
fallal,  legendus  est,  sed  diligenter  ac  pasne  ad  scri- 
bendi  soliciludinem ;  nee  per  paries  modo  scrutanda 
omnJa,  sed  perlectus  liber  utique  ex  integro  resu- 
menctus."  Itaque  genus  illud  corruplae  oralionis,  seu 
,  effugere  nequeunt,  quod  *«m<r/«o»  vocant, 


contrary,  he  proceeds  to  say,  read  nothing 
but  what  is  worthy  of  imitation,  and  shun 
every  expression  that  can  impair  the  clear- 
ness and  purity  of  a  sentence.  Yet  even 
in  Manutius  and  in  the  Jesuit  MafFei,  he 
finds  instances  of  barbarism,  much  more 
in  the  French  and  German  scholars  of  the 
sixteenth  age  ;  expressing  contempt  upon 
this  account  for  his  old  enemy,  Joseph 
Scaliger.  Thuanus,  he  says,  is  full  of 
modern  idioms  ;  a  crime  not  quite  unpar- 
donable, when  we  remember  the  immen- 
sity of  his  labour,  and  the  greater  impor- 
tance of  other  objects  of  it  that  he  had 
in  vieAV. 

21.  Gerard  Vossius,  a  far  greater  name 
in  general  literature  than  Scioppi-  Gerard 
us,  contributed  more  essentially  Vossius, 
to  these  grammatical  rules ;  and  de  Vitiis 

i  •  i  -.         T  serroonis. 

to  him,  perhaps,  rather  than  to  any 
other  one  man,  we  may  refer  the  estab- 
lishment of  as  much  correctness  of  wri- 
ting as  is  attainable  in  a  dead  language. 
Besides  several  works  on  rhetoric  and  po- 
etry, which,  as  those  topics  were  usually 
treated  in  ages  of  more  erudition  than 
taste  or  philosophy,  resolved  themselves 
into  philological  disquisitions,  looking  only 
to  the  language  of  the  ancient  writers,  we 


qus3  est  quaedam  mista  ex  variarum  linguarum  ra- 
tione  oralio,  ut  si  Allicis  Dorica,  lonica,  ^Eolica 
etiam  dicla  confundas ;  cui  simile  esl  si  quis  sublim- 
ia  humilibus,  vetera  novis,  poetica  vulgaribus,  Sal- 
lustiana  Tullianis,  aeneae  el  ferreae  aetalis  vocab- 
ula  aureis  el  argenleis  misceal,  qui  Lipsiodeduclis- 
que  ab  eo  viris,  solennis  et  jam  olim  familiaris  esl 
morbus.  In  quibus  hoc  amplius,  verba  maxime  im- 
propria,  comprehensionem  obscuram,  composilio- 
nem  fraclam,  aut  in  frustula  concisam,  vocum  simili- 
um  aul  ambiguarum  puerilem  caplationem  passim 
animadvertas.  Magnis  tamen,  non  negq,  virtulibus 
vilia  sua  Lipsius  redimil,  imprimis  acumine,  venere, 
salibus  (ut  excellens  viri  ingenium  ferebat)  turn  plu- 
rimis  leclissimis  verbis  loquendique  modis,  ex  quibus 
non  lam  facultatem  bene  scribendi,  ejusque,  quod 
melius  est,  intellectual  ei  deesse,  quam  voluntatem, 
quo  minus  rectiora  malit,  ambitiuscule,  plaususque 
popularis  sludio  praspediri  inlelligas.  Ilalorum  Ion- 
ge  dispar  ratio.  Primum  enim  non  nisi  optimum 
legere  et  ad  imitandum  sibi  proponere  solent ;  quod 
judicio  quo  caeteras  nationes  omnium  consensu  su- 
peranl,  imprimis  est  consentaneum.  Deinde  nihil 
non  faciunt,  ul  evitenl  omnia,  unde  aliquid  injucun- 
das  el  conlaminandas  oralionis  periculi  oslenditur  La- 
tin^ igitur  nunquam  loquunlur,  quod  fieri  vix  posse 
persuasum  habeanl,  quin  quotidianus  ejus  linguas 
usus  ad  inslarlorrenlislutulenlusfluat,  etcujusque 
modi  verborum  sordes  secum  rapiat,  qu«  postea 
quodam  familiaritalis  jure  sic  se  scribentibus  inge- 
rant,  ut  etiam  diligentissimos  fallant,  et  baud  dubie 
pro  Latinis  habeanlur.  Hoc  eorum  consilium  cum 
non  inlelliganl  Transalpini,  id  eorum  insciliae  perpe- 
ram  assignant.  Sic  recte  Paulo  Manutio  usu  venit, 
utquoniam  vix  Iria  verba  Latinain  familiari  sermone 
proferre  poterat,  earn  Germani  complures,  qui  lo- 
quentem  audiluri  ad  eum  venerunl,  vehemenler  pra 
se  conlemnerenl.  Huic  tamen  nemo  qui  sanus  sit 
ad  puritalis  el  eleganliae  Lalina?  summam  quicquid 
defuisse  dixeril,  p.  65. 


FROM  1600  TO  1650. 


21 


have  several  more  strictly  within  tha 
province.  The  long  use  of  Latin  in  wri- 
tings on  modern  subjects,  before  the  class 
ical  authors  had  been  studied,  had  brough 
in  a  host  of  barbarisms,  that  even  yet 
were  not  expelled.  His  treatise  De  Vitiis 
Sermonis  et  Glossematis  Latino-barbaris 
is  in  nine  books ;  four  published  in  1645 
during  the  author's  life ;  five  in  1685. 
The  former  are  by  far  the  most  copious. 
It  is  a  very  large  collection  of  words  in 
use  among  modern  writers,  for  which 
there  is  no  adequate  authority.  Of  these 
many  are  plainly  barbarous,  and  taken 
from  the  writers  of  the  middle  ages,  or,  at 
best,  from. those  of  the  fifth  and  sixth  cen- 
turies. Few  of  such  would  be  used  by 
any  tolerable  scholar.  He  includes  some 
which,  though  in  themselves  good,  have  a 
wrong  sense  given  to  them.  Words  how- 
ever occur,  concerning  which  one  might 
be  ignorant  without  discredit,  especially 
before  the  publication  of  this  treatise, 
which  has  been  the  means  of  correcting 
the  ordinary  dictionaries. 

22.  In  the  five  posthumous  books,  which 
may  be  mentioned  in  this  place,  having 
probably  been  written  before  1650,  \ve  find 
chiefly  what  the  author  had  forgotten  to 
notice  in  the  former  or  had  since  observ- 
ed.    But  the  most  valuable  part  relates  to 
the    "falso   suspecta,"  which   fastidious 
critics  have  unreasonably  rejected,  gener- 
ally because  they  do  not  appear  in  the  Au- 
gustan writers.     Those   whom  he   calls 
"  Nizoliani  verius  quam  Ciceroniani,"  dis- 
approved of  all  words  not  found  in  Cicero.* 
It  is  curious  to  perceive,  as  Vossius  shows 
us,  how  many  apparently  obvious  words 
do  not  occur  in  Cicero ;  yet  it  would  be 
mere  affectation  to  avoid  them.     This  is, 
perhaps,  the  best  part  of  Vossius's  treatise. 

23.  We  are  indebted  to  Vossius  for  a 
His  Aris-  still  more  important  work  on  gram- 
tarchus.    mar)  ^g  Aristarchus,  sive  de  Arte 
Grammatica,  which  first  appeared  in  1635. 
This  is  in  seven  books  ;  the  first  treats  of 
grammar  in  general,  and  especially  of  the 
alphabet ;  the  second  of  syllables,  under 
which  head  he  dwells  at  great  length  on 
prosody  ;f  the  third  (which,  with  all  the 
following,  is  separately  entitled  De  vocum 
Analogia)  of  words  generally,  and  of  the 


*  Paulus  Manutius  scrupled  to  use  words  on  the 
antho/ity  of  Cicero's  correspondents,  such  as  Cae- 
lius  or  Pollio ;  a  ridiculous  affectation,  especially 
when  we  observe  what  Vossius  has  pointed  out, 
that  many  common  words  do  not  occur  in  Cicero. 
It  is  amazing  to  see  the  objections  of  these  Cicero- 
nian critics. 

t  In  this  we  find  Vossius  aware  of  the  rule 
brought  to  light  by  Dawes,  and  now  familiar,  that 
a  final  vowel  is  rarely  short  before  a  word  beginning 
with  *  and  a  mute  consonant. 


genders,  numbers,  and  cases  of  nouns. 
The  same  subject  occupies  the  fourth 
book.  In  the  fifth  he  investigates  verbs ; 
and  in  the  sixth  the  remaining  parts  of 
speech.  The  last  book  relates  to  syntax. 
This  work  is  full  of  miscellaneous  obser- 
vations, placed  for  the  most  part  alphabet- 
ically under  each  chapter.  It  has  been 
said  that  Vossius  has  borrowed  almost 
everything  in  this  treatise  from  Sanctius 
and  Scioppius.  If  this  be  true,  we  must 
accuse  him  of  unfairness ;  for  he  never 
mentions  the  Minerva.  But  the  edition  of 
this  grammar  by  Scioppius  was  not  pub- 
lished till  after  the  death  of  Vossius.  Sal- 
masius  extolled  that  of  the  latter  above  all 
which  had  been  published.* 

24.  In  later  times  the  ambition  of  wri- 
ting Latin  with  accuracy  and  el-  Progress  of 
egance  has  so  universally  de-  Latin  style, 
clined,  that  the  diligence  of  Scioppius  and 
Vossius  has  become  hardly  valuable  ex- 
cept to  schoolmasters.  It  is,  however,  an 
art  not  contemptible,  either  in  respect  to 
the  taste  and  discernment  for  which  it 
gives  scope  in  composition,  or  for  the  en- 
hanced pleasure  it  reflects  on  the  pages  of 
ancient  writers.  We  may  distinguish  sev- 
eral successive  periods  in  its  cultivation 
since  the  first  revival  of  letters.  If  we 
begin  with  Petrarch,  since  before  his  time 
there  was  no  continuous  imitation  of  class- 
ical models,  the  first  period  will  comprise 
those  who  desired  much,  but  reached  lit- 
tle, the  writers  of  the  fourteenth  and  fif- 
teenth centuries,  destitute  of  sufficient 
aids,  and  generally  incapable  of  clearly 
discriminating  the  pure  from  the  barbarous 
in  Latin.  A  better  aera  may  be  dated  from 
Politian;  the  ancients  were  now  fully 
tnown,  and  studied  with  immense  labour  ; 
the  graces  of  style  were  frequently  caught ; 
yet  something  was  still  wanting  to  its  pu- 
rity and  elegance.  At  the  end  of  a  series 
of  improvements,  a  line  marked  by  Bem- 
>us,  Sadolet,  and  Longolius,  we  arrive  at 
a  third  period,  which  we  may  call  that  of 
Paulus  Manutius,  the  golden  age  of  mod- 
rn  Latinity.  The  diligence  in  lexicogra- 
)hy  of  Robert  Stephens,  of  Nizolius,  of 
Vlanutius  himself,  and  the  philological 
realises  of  their  times,  gave  a  much 
greater  nicety  of  expression;  while  the 
snthusiasm  with  which  some  of  the  best 


*  Tuum  de  grammatica  a  te  accepi  exactissimum 
n  hoc  genere  opus,  ac  cui  nullum  priorum  aut  prisci 
svi  aut  nostri  possit  comparari. — Apud  Blount  in 
'"ossio.  Daunou  says  of  the  grammatical  and  rhe- 
orical  writings  of  Vossius :  Ces  livres  se  recom- 
mandent,  par  1'exactitude,  par  la  methode,  par  une 
literature  tres  etendue.  Gibert  en  convient,  mais 
.  trouve  de  la  prolixite.  D'autres  pourraient  n'y 
•oirqu'une  instruction  serieuse,  souvent  aust&re,  et 
resque  toujours  profitable. — Biogr.  Univ 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


writers  emulated  the  ancients  inspired 
them  with  a  systematic  eloquence  and 
grace.  But  towards  the  end  of  the  centu- 
ry, when  Manutius,  and  Muretus,  and  Ma- 
phaeus,  and  others  of  that  school  had  been 
removed  by  death,  an  age  of  worse  taste, 
and  perhaps  of  more  negligence  in  gram- 
mar, cama  on,  yet  one  of  great  scholars, 
and  of  men  powerful  even  in  language ; 
the  age  of  Lipsius,  of  Scaliger,  of  Grotius. 
This  may  be  called  the  fourth  period ;  and 
in  this,  apparently,  the  purity  of  the  lan- 
guage, as  well  as  its  beauty,  rather  de- 
clined. Finally,  the  publications  of  Sci- 
oppius  and  Vossius  mark  the  beginning  of 
another  period,  which  we  may  consider  as 
lasting  to  the  present  day.  Grammatical 
criticism  had  nearly  reached  the  point  at 
which  it  now  stands ;  the  additions,  at 
least,  which  later  philologers,  Perizonius, 
Burman,  Bentley,  and  many  others  have 
made,  though  by  no  means  inconsiderable, 
seem  hardly  sufficient  to  constitute  a  dis- 
tinct period,  even  if  we  could  refer  them 
properly  to  any  single  epoch.  And  the 
praise  of  eloquent  composition  has  been 
so  little  sought  after  the  close  of  the 
years  passed  in  education,  or  attained  only 
in  short  and  occasional  writings,  which 
have  left  no  durable  reputation  behind,  that 
we  may  consider  the  Latin  language,  for 
this  purpose,  to  have  silently  expired  in 
the  regions  of  polite  literature. 


SECTION  II. 

Antiquities  of  Rome  and  Greece. — Gruter.— Meur- 
sius. — Chronology. 

25.  THE  antiquities  of  Greece  and  Rome, 
Gruter's  coi-  though  they  did  not  occupy  so 
lection  of  in-  great  a  relative  space  in  the  In- 
scriptions. erature  Of  this  period  as  of  the 
sixteenth  century,  were,  from  the  general 
increase  of  erudition,  not  less  frequently 
the  subject  of  books  than  before.  This 
field,  indeed,  is  so  vast,  that  its  harvest  had 
in  many  parts  been  scarcely  touched,  and 
in  others  very  imperfectly  gathered  by 
those  we  have  already  commemorated,  the 
Sigonii,  the  Manutii,  the  Lipsii,  and  their 
fellow-labourers  in  ancient  learning.  The 
present  century  opened  with  a  great  work, 
the  Corpus  Inscriptionum  by  Gruter.  A 
few  endeavours  had  long  before  been 
made*  to  collect  the  ancient  inscriptions, 
of  which  the  countries  once  Roman,  and 
especially  Italy,  were  full.  The  best  work 
hitherto  was  by  Martin  Smetius  of  Bru- 
ges, after  whose  death  his  collection  of  in- 
scriptions was  published  at  Leyden  in  1588, 


*  See  vol.  i.,  p.  177. 


under  the  superintendence  of  Dousa  and 
Lipsius. 

26.  Scaliger  first  excited  his  friend  Gru- 
ter to  undertake  the  task  of  giving  Assisted  by 
an  enlarged  edition  of  Smetius.*  fcca'Jger. 
He  made  the  index  for  this  himself,  devo- 
ting the  labour  of  the  entire  morning  for 
ten  months  (a  summo  mane  ad  tempus 
coense)   to  an  occupation  from  which  so 
little  glory  could  accrue.     "Who,"  says 
Burman,   "  would  not  admire  the  liberal 
erudition  and  unpretending  modesty  of  the 
learned  of  that  age,  who,  worn  as  they 
were  by  those  long  and  weary  labours  of 
which  they  freely  complain  in  their  cor- 
respondence with  each  other,  though  they 
knew  that  such  occupations  as  these  could 
gain  for  them  no  better  name  than  that  of 
common  clerks  or  mere  drudges,  yet  hesi- 
tated not  to  abandon  for  the  advantage  of 
the  public  those  pursuits  which  a  higher 
fame  might  be  expected  to  reward  ?     Who 
in  these  times  would  imitate  the  generosity 
of  Scaliger,  who,  when  he  might  have  as- 
cribed to  himself  this  addition  to  the  work 
of  Smetius,  gave  away  his  own  right  to 
Gruter,  and  declined  to  let  his  name  be 
prefixed  either  to  the  index  which  he  had 
wholly  compiled,  or  to  the  many  observa- 
tions by  which  he  corrects  and  explains 
the  inscriptions,  and  desired,  in  recom- 
pense for  the  industry  of  Gruter,  that  he 
alone  should  pass  with  posterity  as  the 
author  of  the  work  ?"f    Gruter,  it  is  ob- 
served by  Le  Clerc,  has  committed  many 
faults  :  he  often  repeats  the  same  inscrip- 
tions, and  still  more  frequently  has  printed 
them  from  erroneous  copies ;  his  quota- 
tions from  authors,  in  whom  inscriptions 
are  found,  sometimes  want   exactness ; 
finally,  for  which  we  could  not  well  be 
answerable,  a  vast  many  have  since  been 
brought  to  light.!    In  consequence  of  the 
publication  of  Gruter's  Inscriptions,  the 
learned  began,  with  incredible  zeal,  to  ex- 
amine old  marbles  for  inscriptions,  and  to 
insert  them  in  any  work  that  had  reference 
to  antiquity.     Reinesius  collected  as  many 
as  make  a  respectable  supplement. $    But 
a  sort  of  sera  in  lapidary  learning  was 
made  by  Selden's  description,  in   1629, 


*  Burman  in  Praefatione  ad  Gruteri  Corpus  In- 
script.  Several  of  Scaligor's  epistles  prove  this, 
especially  the  405th,  addressed  to  Grutor. 

t  Id.,  p.  6. 

j  Bibl.  Choisie,  vol.  xiv.,  p.  51.  Burman,  vbi  su- 
pra, gives  a  strange  reason  for  reprinting  Gruter's 
Inscriptions  with  all  their  blemishes,  even  the  rep- 
etitions ;  namely,  that  it  was  convenient  to  preserve 
the  number  of  pages  which  had  been  so  continually 
referred  to  in  all  learned  works,  the  simple  contri- 
vance of  keeping  the  original  numeration  in  the 
margin  not  having  occurred  to  -liim. 

§  Burman,  vbi  supra. 


FROM  1600  TO  1650. 


of  the  marbles  brought  by  the  Earl  of 
Arundel  from  Greece,  and  which  now  be- 
long to  the  University  of  Oxford.  These 
contain  a  chronology  of  the  early  times 
of  Greece,  on  which  great  reliance  has 
often  been  placed,  though  their  antiquity 
is  not  accounted  very  high  in  comparison 
with  those  times. 

27.  The  Jesuit  Donati  published,  in  1633, 
Works  on  K°ma  vetus  et  nova,  which  is  not 
Roman  an-  only  much  superior  to  anything 
tiquity.  previously  written  on  the  antiqui- 
ties of  the  city,  but  is  preferred  by  some 
competent  judges  to  the  later  and  more 
known  work  of  Nardini.  Both  these  will 
be  found,  with  others  of  an  earlier  date,  in 
the  third  and  fourth  volumes  of  Cravius. 
The  tenth  volume  of  the  same  collection 
contains  a  translation  from  the  history  of 
the  Great  Roads  of  the  Roman  Empire, 
published  in  French  by  Nicolas  Bergier 
in  162-2  ;  ill-arranged,  it  has  been  said,  and 
diffuse,  according  to  the  custom  of  his  age, 
but  inferior,  Graevius  declares,  in  variety 
of  learning  to  no  one  work  that  he  has  in- 
serted in  his  numerous  volumes.  Guther, 
whose  treatise  on  the  pontifical  law  of 
Rome  appears  in  the  fifth  volume,  was, 
says  the  editor,  "  a  man  of  various  and 
extended  reading,  who  had  made  extracts 
from  every  class  of  writers,  but  had  not 
always  digested  his  learning  or  weighed 
what  he  wrote.  Hence  much  has  been 
found  open  to  criticism  in  his  writings, 
and  there  remains  a  sufficient  harvest  of 
the  same  kind  for  any  one  who  should 
care  to  undertake  it."  The  best  work  on 
Roman  dress  is  by  Octavius  Ferrarius, 
published  partly  in  1642,  partly  in  1654. 
This  has  been  called  superficial  by  Span- 
heim  ;  but  Graevius,  and  several  other  men 
of  learning,  bestow  more  praise.*  The 
Isiac  tablet,  covered  with  emblems  of 
Egyptian  antiquity,  was  illustrated  by 
Pignoria,  in  a  work  bearing  different  ti- 
tles in  the  successive  editions  from  1605; 
and  his  explanations  are  still  considered 
probable.  Pignoria's  other  writings  were 
also  in  high  esteem  with  the  antiquaries. f 
It  would  be  tedious  to  enumerate  the  less 
important  productions  of  this  kind.  A 
minute  and  scrupulous  criticism,  it  has 
been  said,  distinguished  the  antiquaries  of 
the  seventeenth  century.  Without,  per- 
haps, the  comprehensive  views  of  Sigonius 
and  Panvinius,  they  were  more  severely 
exact.  Hence  forgery  and  falsehood  stood 
a  much  worse  chance  of  success  than 
before.  Anmus  of  Viterbo  had  deceived 
half  the  scholars  of  the  preceding  age. 

*  Niceron,  v.,  80.     Tiraboschi,  xi. ,  300. 
t  Niceron,  vol.  xxi.    Biogr.  Univ. 


But  when  Inghirami,  in  1637,  published 
his  Etruscarum  Antiquitatum  Fragmenta, 
monuments  of  Etruscan  antiquity,  which 
he  pretended  to  have  discovered  at  Volter- 
ra,  the  imposture  was  speedily  detected.* 

28.  The  Germania  Antiqua  of  Cluverius 
was  published  in  1616,  and  his  Geography 
Italia  Antiqua  in  1624.     These  of  Cluverius. 
form  a  sort  of  epoch  in  ancient  geography. 
The  latter,  especially,  has  ever  since  been 
the   great  repertory  of  classical  illustra- 
tion on  this  subject.     Cluverius.  however, 
though  a  man  of  acknowledged  ability  and 
erudition,  has  been  thought  too  bold  an  in- 
novator in  his  Germany,  and  to  have  laid 
down  much  on  his  own  conjecture.! 

29.  Meursius,  a  native  of  Holland,  began 
when  very  young,  soon  after  the  Meursius 
commencement   of  the   century, 

those  indefatigable  labours  on  Grecian  an- 
tiquity, by  which  he  became  to  Athens 
and  all  Hellas  what  Sigonius  had  been  to 
Rome  and  Italy.  Niceron  has  given  a 
list  of  his  publications,  sixty-seven  in 
number,  including  some  editions  of  ancient 
writers,  but  for  the  most  part  confined  to 
illustrations  of  Greek  usages  ;  some  also 
treat  of  Roman.  The  Graecia  feriata,  on 
festivals  and  games  ;  the  Orchestra,  on 
dancing ;  the  Eleusinia,  on  that  deeply  in- 
teresting, and,  in  his  time,  almost  untouch- 
ed subject,  the  ancient  mysteries,  are  col- 
lected in  the  works  of  this  very  learned 
person,  or  scattered  through  the  Thesaurus 
Antiquitatum  Graecarum  of  Gronovius. 
"  Meursius,"  says  his  editor,  "  was  the  true 
and  legitimate  mystagogue  to  the  sanctu- 
aries of  Greece."  But  his  peculiar  atten- 
tion was  justly  shown  to  "  the  eye  of 
Greece,"  Athens.  Nothing  that  bore  on 
her  history,  her  laws  and  government,  her 
manners  and  literature,  was  left  by  him. 
The  various  titles  of  his  works  seem  al- 
most to  exhaust  Athenian  antiquity  :  De 
Populis  Atticos — Athenae  Atticae — Cecro- 
pia — Regnum  Atticum — Archontes  Athe- 
nienses  —  Pisistratus  —  Fortuna  Attica — 
Atticarum  Lectionum  Libri  IV. — Piraeeus 
—  Themis  Attica — Solon — Areopagus  — 
Panathenaea — Eleusinia — Theseus — Ms- 
chylus  —  Sophocles  et  Euripides.  It  is 
manifest  that  all  later  learning  must  have 
been  built  upon  his  foundations.  No  one 
was  equal  to  Meursius  in  this  province ; 
but  the  second  place  is  perhaps  due  to 
Uhbo  Emmius,  professor  of  Greek  ubbo 
at  Groningen,  for  his  Vetus  Grsecia  Emmius. 
Illustrata,  1626.  The  facilities  of  elucida- 
ting the  topography  of  that  country  were 
by  no  means  such  as  Cluverius  had  found 


*  Salfi  (Continuation  de  Gingudne),  xi ,  358. 
t  Blount.    Niceron,  vol.  xxi.      Biogr.  Univ. 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


for  Italy ;  and,  in  fact,  little  was  done  in  re- 
spect to  local  investigation  in  order  to  es- 
tablish a  good  ancient  geography  tiHrecent 
times.  Samuel  Petit,  a  man  placed  by 
some  in  the  very  first  list  of  the  learned, 
published  in  1635  a  commentary  on  the 
Athenian  laws,  which  is  still  the  chief  au- 
thority on  that  subject.  * 

30.  In  an  age  so  peculiarly  learned  as 
this  part  of  the  seventeenth'  century,  it 
will  be  readily  concluded  that  many  books 
must  have  a  relation  to  the  extensive  sub- 
ject of  this  section ;  though  the  stream 
of  erudition  had  taken  rather  a  different 
course,  and  watered  the  provinces  of  ec- 
clesiastical and  mediaeval  more  than  those 
of  heathen  antiquity.    But  we  can  only 
select  one  or  two  which  treat  of  chronol- 
ogy, and  that  chiefly  because  we  have  al- 
ready given  a  place  to  the  work  of  Scali- 
ger. 

31.  Lydiat  was  the  first  who,  in  a  small 
Chronology  treatise  on  the  various  calendars, 
of  Lydiat.     1605,  presumed  in  several  re- 
caivisius.     spects  to  Differ  from  that  of  the 
dictator  of  literature.     He  is,  in  conse- 
quence, reviled  in  Scaliger's  Epistles  as  the 
most  stupid  and  ignorant  of  the  human 
race,  a  portentous  birth  of  England,  or  at 
best  an  ass  and  a  beetle,  whom  it  is  below 
the  dignity  of  the  author  to   answer.* 
Lydiat,  however,  was  esteemed  a  man  of 
deep  learning,  and  did  not  flinch  from  the 
contest.     His  Emendatio  Temporum,  pub- 
lished in  1609,  is  a  more  general  censure 
of  the   Scaligerian  chronology,  but  it  is 
rather  a  short  work  for  the  extent  of  the 
subject.     A  German,  Seth   Calvisius,  on 
the  other  hand,  is  extolled  to  the  skies  by 
Scaliger  for  a  chronology  founded  on  his 
own  principles.     These  are  applied  in  it  to 
the  whole  series  of  history,  and  thus  Cal- 
yisius  may  be  said  to  have  made  an  epoch 
in  historical  literature.     He  made  more 
use  of  eclipses  than  any  preceding  writer ; 
and  his  dates  are  reckoned  as  accurate  in 
modern  as  in  ancient  history,  f 

32.  Scaliger,  nearly  twenty  years  after 
_  ,          his  death,  was  assailed  by  an  ad- 

Petavius.  ',  ,  ,,   J 

versary  whom  he  could  not  have 
thought  it  unworthy  of  his  name  to  repel. 
Petau,  or  Petavius,  a  Jesuit  of  uncommon 

*  Ante  aliquot  dies  tibi  scripsi,  ut  scirem  ex  te 
quis  sit  Thomas  Lydiat  iste,  quo  monstro  nullum 
portentosius  in  vestra  Anglia  natum  puto  ;  tanta  est 
inscitia  horninis  et  confidentia.  Ne  semel  quidem 
illi  verum  dicere  accidit.  And  again  :  Non  est  sim- 
ilis  morioin  orbe  terrarum.  Faucis  asinitatem  ejus 
perstringam  ut  lector  rideat.  Nam  in  tarn  prodigiose 
imperitum  scarabaeum  scribere,  neque  nostrze  digni- 
tatis  est,  neque  otii.— Scalig.,  Epist.,  291.  Usher, 
nevertheless,  if  we  may  trust  Wood,  thought  Scali- 
ger worsted  by  Lydiat.— At  h.  Oxou.,  iii.,  187. 

t  Blount.    Biogr.  Univ. 


learning,  devoted  the  whole  of  the  first  of 
two  large  volumes,  entitled  Doctrina  Tem- 
porum. 1627,  to  a  censure  of  the  famous 
work  De  Emendatione  Temporum.  This 
volume  is  divided  into  eight  books;  the 
first  on  the  popular  year  of  the  Greeks; 
the  second  on  the  lunar ;  the  third  on  the 
-(Egyptian,  Persian,  and  Armenian;  the 
fourth  on  the  solar  year ;  the  fifth  treats 
of  the  correction  of  the  paschal  cycle  and 
the  calendar ;  the  sixth  discusses  the  prin- 
ciples of  the  lunar  and  solar  cycles ;  the 
seventh  is  entitled  an  introduction  to  com- 
putations of  various  kinds,  among  which 
he  reckons  the  Julian  period ;  the  eighth 
is  on  the  true  motions  of  the  sun  and 
moon,  and  on  their  eclipses.  In  almost 
every  chapter  of  the  first  five  books,  Sca- 
liger is  censured,  refuted,  reviled.  It  was 
a  retribution  upon  his  own  arrogance  ;  but 
published  thus  after  his  death,  with  no 
justice  done  to  his  great  learning  and  abil- 
ity, and  scarcely  the  common  terms  of  re- 
spect towards  a  mighty  name,  it  is  impos- 
sible not  to  discern  in  Petavius  both  an 
envious  mind,  and  a  partial  desire  to  injure 
the  fame  of  a  distinguished  Protestant. 
His  virulence,  indeed,  against  Scaliger  be- 
comes almost  ridiculous.  At  the  begin- 
ning of  each  of  the  first  five  books,  he  lays 
it  down  as  a  theorem  to  be  demonstrated, 
that  Scaliger  is  always  wrong  on  the  par- 
ticular subjects  to  which  it  relates  ;  and  at 
the  close  of  each,  he  repeats  the  same  in 
geometrical  form  as  having  been  proved. 
He  does  not  even  give  him  credit  for  the 
invention  of  the  Julian  period,  though  he 
adopts  it  himself  with  much  praise,  posi- 
tively asserting  that  it  is  borrowed  from 
the  Byzantine  Greeks.*  The  second  vol- 
ume is  in  five  books,  and  is  dedicated  to 
the  historical  part  of  chronology,  and  the 
application  of  the  principles  laid  down  be- 
fore. A  third  volume,  in  1630,  relating  to 
the  same  subjects,  though  bearing  a  differ- 
ent title,  is  generally  considered  as  part  of 
the  work.  Petavius,  in  1633,  published 
an  abridgment  of  his  chronological  sys- 
tem, entitled  Rationarium  Temporum,  to 
which  he  subjoined  a  table  of  events  down 
to  his  own  time,  which  in  the  larger  work 
had  only  been  carried  to  the  fall  of  the 
empire.  This  abridgment  is  better  known 
and  more  generally  useful  than  the  for- 
mer. 

33.  The  merits  of  Petavius  as  a  chro- 
nologer  have  been  differently  character  of 
appreciated.  Many,  of  whom  this  work- 
Huet  is  one,  from  religious  prejudices  re- 
joiced in  what  they  hoped  to  be  a  discom- 
fiture of  Scaliger,  whose  arrogance  had 


*  Lib.  vii.,  c.  7. 


FROM  1600  TO  1650. 


25 


also  made  enemies  of  a  large  part  of  the 
literary  world.  Even  Vossius,  after  prais- 
ing Petavius,  declares  that  he  is  unwilling 
to  decide  between  men  who  have  done  for 
chronology  more  than  any  others.*  But 
he  has  not  always  been  so  favourably  dealt 
with.  Le  Clerc  observes,  that  as  Scaliger 
is  not  very  perspicuous,  and  Petavius  has 
explained  the  former's  opinions  before  he 
proceeds  to  refute  them,  those  who  com- 
pare the  two  will  have  this  advantage,  that 
they  will  understand  Scaliger  better  than 
before. f  This  is  not  very  complimentary 
to  his  opponent.  A  modern  writer  of  re- 
spectable authority  gives  us  no  reason  to 
consider  him  victorious.  "Though  the 
great  work  of  Petavius  on  chronology," 
says  M.  St.  Martin,  "  is  certainly  a  very 
estimable  production,  it  is  not  less  certain 
that  he  has  in  no  degree  contributed  to  en- 
large the  boundaries  of  the  science.  The 
author  shows  too  much  anxiety  to  refute 


Scaliger,  whether  right  or  wrong ;  his  sole 
aim  is  to  destroy  the  edifice,  perhaps  too 
boldly  elevated  by  his  adversary.  It  is 
not  unjust  to  say  that  Petavius  has  literal- 
ly done  nothing  for  positive  chronology ; 
he  has  not  even  determined  with  accura- 
cy what  is  most  incontestable  in  this  sci- 
ence. Many  of  the  dates  which  he  con- 
siders as  well  established  are  still  subject 
to  great  doubt,  and  might  be  settled  in  a 
very  different  manner.  His  work  is  clear 
and  methodical ;  and,  as  it  embraces  the 
whole  of  chronology,  it  might  have  be- 
come of  great  authority  :  but  those  very 
qualities  have  rendered  it  injurious  to  the 
science.  He  came  to  arrest  the  flight 
which,  through  the  genius  of  Scaliger,  it 
was  ready  to  take,  nor  has  it  made  the 
least  progress  ever  since  ;  it  has  produced 
nothing  but  conjectures,  more  or  less 
showy,  but  with  nothing  solid  and  undeni- 
able for  their  basis. "J 


CHAPTER  II. 


HISTORY    OF   THEOLOGICAL   LITERATURE   IN   EUROPE    FROM    1600   TO    1650. 


Claim  of  Popes  to  Temporal  Power. — Father  Paul 
Sarpi.— Gradual  Decline  of  Papal  Power. — Un- 
popularity of  Jesuits.— Controversy  of  Catholics 
and  Protestants.  —  Deference  of  some  of  the 
latter  to  Antiquity. — Wavering  in  Casaubon. — 
Still  more  in  Grotius. — Calixtus. — An  opposite 
School  of  Theologians.— Daille. — Chillingworth. 
— Hales. — Rise  of  the  Arminian  Controversy. — 
Episcopius. — Socinians. — Question  as  to  Rights 
of  Magistrates  in  Religion.— Writings  of  Grotius 
on  this  Subject.— Question  of  Religious  Tolera- 
tion.—Taylor's  Liberty  of  Prophesying. — Theo- 
logical Critics  and  Commentators. — Sermons  of 
Donne— and  Taylor. — Deistical  Writers. — Eng- 
lish Translation  of  the  Bible. 

1.  THE  claim  of  the  Roman  See  to  de- 
Temporal  pose  sovereigns  was  like  the  re- 
supremacy  tractile  claws  of  some  animals, 
which  woud  be  liable  to  injury 
were  they  not  usually  sheathed.  If  the 
state  of  religion  in  England  and  France 
towards  the  latter  part  of  the  sixteenth 
century  required  the  assertion  of  these 


*  Vossius, apud  Niceron,  xxxvii.,  111.  Dionysius 
Petavius  permulta  post  Scaligerum  optime  observa- 
vit.  Sed  nolim  judicium  interponere  inter  eos,  quo- 
rum uterque  praeclare  adeo  de  chronologia  mentus 
est,  ut  nullis  plus  haec  scientia  debeat.  .  .  .  Qui 
sine  affectu  ac  partium  studio  conferre  volet  quae  de 
temporibus  scripsere,  conspiciet  esse  ubi  Scaligero 
major  laus  debeatur,  comperiet  quoque  ubi  longe 
Petavio  malit  assentiri ;  erit  etiam  ubi  ampliandum 
videatur;  imo  ubi  nee  facile  veritas  aquoquam  pos- 
eit  indagari.  The  chronology  of  Petavius  was  an- 
imadverted upon  by  Salmasius  with  much  rude- 
ness, and  by  several  other  contemporaries  engaged 
in  the  same  controversy.  If  we  were  to  believe  Ba- 
VOL.  II.— D 


pretended  rights,  it  was  not  the  policy  of 
a  court,  guided  as  often  by  prudence  as  by 
zeal  or  pride,  to  keep  them  for  ever  before 
the  eyes  of  the  world.  Clement  VIII. 
wanted  not  these  latter  qualities,  but  they 
were  restrained  by  the  former;  and  the 
circumstances  in  which  the  new  century 
opened  did  not  demand  any  open  collision 
with  the  civil  power.  Henry  IV.  had 
been  received  back  into  the  bosom  of  the 
church ;  he  was  now  rather  the  ally,  the 
favoured  child  of  Rome,  than  the  object 
of  proscription.  Elizabeth  again  was  out 
of  the  reach  of  any  enemy  but  death,  and 
much  was  hoped  from  the  hereditary  dis- 
position of  her  successor.  The  temporal 
supremacy  would  therefore  have  been  left 
for  obscure  and  unauthorized  writers  to 
vindicate,  if  an  unforeseen  circumstance 
had  not  called  out  again  its  most  celebra- 


illet,  Petavius  was  not  only  the  most  learned  of  the 
order  of  Jesuits,  but  surpassed  Salmasius  himself 
de  plusieurs  couddes. — Jugemens  des  Sc.avans,  n.  513. 
But,  to  judge  between  giants,  we  should  be  a  little 
taller  ourselves  than  most  are.  Baillet,  indeed, 
quotes  Henry  Valois  for  this  preference  of  Petavius 
to  any  other  of  his  age,  which,  in  other  words,  is 
much  the  same  as  to  call  him  the  most  learned  man 
that  ever  lived  ;  and  Valois  was  a  very  competent 
judge.  The  words,  however,  are  found  in  a  funer- 
al panegyric. 

t  Bibl.  Choisie,  ii.,  186.  A  short  abstract  of  the 
Petavian  scheme  of  chronology  will  be  found  in 
this  volume  of  Le  Clerc. 

t  Biogr.  Univ.,  art.  Petavius. 


26 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


ted.  champions.  After  the  detection  of 
the  gunpowder  conspiracy,  an  oath  of  al- 
legiance was  imposed  in  England,  contain- 
ing a  renunciation,  in  strong  terms,  of  the 
tenet  that  princes  excommunicated  by  the 
pope  might  be  deposed  or  murdered  by 
their  subjects.  None  of  the  English  Cath- 
olics refused  allegiance  to  James ;  and 
most  of  them  probably  would  have  felt 
little  scruple  at  taking  the  entire  oath, 
which  their  arch-priest,  Blackwell,  had  ap- 
proved. But  the  See  of  Rome  interfered 
to  censure  those  who  took  the  oath ;  and 
a  controversy  singularly  began  with  James 
himself  in  his  "  Apology  for  the  Oath  of  Al- 
legiance." Bellarmin  answered,  in  1610, 
under  the  name  of  Matthew  Tortus ;  and 
the  duty  of  defending  the  royal  author 
was  devolved  on  one  of  our  most  learned 
divines,  Lancelot  Andrews,  who  gave  to 
his  reply  the  quaint  title  Tortura  Torti.* 
But  this  favourable  tenet  of  the  Vatican 
was  as  ill  fitted  to  please  the  Gallican  as 
the  English,  Church.  Barclay,  a  lawyer  of 
Scottish  family,  had  long  defended  the 
rights  of  the  crown  of  France  against  all 
opponents.  His  posthumous  treatise  on 
the  temporal  power  of  the  pope  with  re- 
spect to  sovereign  princes  was  published 
at  London  in  1609.  Bellarmin  answered  it 
next  year  in  the  ultra-montane  spirit  which 
he  had  always  breathed ;  the  Parliament 
of  Paris  forbade  the  circulation  of  his  re- 

piy-t 

2.  Paul  V.  was  a  pope  imbued  with  the 
Contest  arrogant  spirit  of  his  predeces- 
witu  Venice.  sors>  paui  i\r.  and  Pius  V. ;  no 
one  was  more  prompt  to  exercise  the  des- 
potism which  the  Jesuits  were  ready  to 
maintain.  After  some  minor  disputes  with 
the  Italian  states,  he  came,  in  1605,  to  his 

*  Biogr.  Britann.,  art.  Andrews.  Collier's  Eccle- 
siastical History.  Butler's  English  Catholics,  vol.  i. 
Matthew  Tortus  was  the  almoner  of  Bellarmin, 
whose  name  he  thought  fit  to  assume  as  a  very  slight 
disguise. 

t  II  pretesto,  says  Father  Paul  of  Bellannin's 
book,  e  di  scrivere  contra  Barclajo  ;  ma  il  vero  fine 
si  vede  esser  per  ridurre  il  papa  at  colmo  dellomnip- 
otente.  In  questo  libro  non  si  tratta  altro,  che  il 
euddetto  argumento,  e  piii  di  venti  cinque  volte  e 
replicato,  che  quando  il  papa  gindica  un  principe  in- 
degno  per  sua  colpa  d'aver  governo  overo  inetto,  6 
pur  conosce,  che  per  il  bene  della  chiesa  sia  cosa 
utile,  lo  puo  privare.  Dice  piu  volte,  che  quando  il 
papa  comanda,  che  non  sia  ubbidito  ad  un  principe 
private  da  lui,  non  si  puo  dire,  che  comandi  che  prin- 
cipe non  sia  ubbidito,  rna  che  privata  persona,  per- 
che  il  principe  private  dal  papa  non  e  piii  principe. 
E  passa  tanto  inanzi,  che  viene  a  dire,  il  papa  pup 
disponere  secondo  che  giudica  ispediente  de'  tuttii 
beni  di  qual  sivoglia  Christiano,  ma  tutto  sarebbe 
niente,  se  solo  dicesse  che  tale  &  la  sua  opinione; 
dice,  ch'  e  un  articolo  della  fede  Catholica,  ch'  e  eret- 
ico,  chi  non  sente  cosi,  e  questo  con  tanta  petulan- 
tia,  che  non  vi  si  puo  aggiungere. — Lettere  di  Sar- 
pi, 50. 


famous  conflict  with  the  republic  of  Ven- 
ice, on  the  very  important  question  of  the 
immunity  of  ecclesiastics  from  the  civil 
tribunals.  Though  he  did  not  absolve  the 
subjects  of  Venice  from  their  allegiance, 
he  put  the  state  under  an  interdict,  for- 
bidding the  celebration  of  divine  offices 
throughout  its  territory.  The  Venetian 
clergy,  except  the  Jesuits  and  some  other 
regulars,  obeyed  the  senate  rather  than  the 
pope.  The  whole  is  matter  of  known  his- 
tory. In  the  termination  of  this  dispute, 
it  has  been  doubted  which  party  obtained 
the  victory ;  but  in  the  ultimate  result  and 
effect  upon  mankind,  \ve  cannot,  it  seems, 
well  doubt  that  the  See  of  Rome  was  the 
loser.*  Nothing  was  more  worthy  of  re- 
mark, especially  in  literary  history,  than 
the  appearance  of  one  great  man,  Father 
Fra  Paolo  Sarpi,  the  first  who,  in  Paul  SarP'- 
modern  times  and  in  a  Catholic  country, 
shook  the  fabric  not  only  of  papal  despo- 
tism, but  of  ecclesiastical  independence 
and  power.  For  it  is  to  be  observed  that 
in  the  Venetian  business,  the  pope  was 
contending  for  what  were  called  the  rights 
of  the  church,  not  for  his  own  supremacy 
over  it.  Sarpi, was  a  man  of  extraordina- 
ry genius,  learning,  and  judgment :  his 
physical  and  anatomical  knowledge  was 
such  as  to  have  caused  at  least  several 
great  discoveries  to  be  assigned  to  him;t 
his  reasoning  was  concise  and  cogent ;  his 
style  perspicuous  and  animated.  A  trea- 
tise "  Delle  Materie  Beneficiarie,"  in  other 
words,  on  the  rights,  revenues,  and  privi- 
leges, in  secular  matters,  of  the  ecclesias- 
tical order,  is  a  model  in  its  way.  The 
history  is  so  short  and  yet  so  sufficient, 
the  sequence  so  natural  and  clear,  the 
proofs  so  judiciously  introduced,  that  it 
can  never  be  read  without  delight  and  ad- 
miration of  the  author's  skill.  And  this  is 
more  striking  to  those  who  have  toiled  at 
the  verbose  books  of  the  sixteenth  and 
seventeenth  centuries,  where  tedious  quo- 
tations, accumulated,  not  selected,  disguise 
the  argument  they  are  meant  to  confirm. 
Except  the  first  book  of  Machiavel's  His- 
tory of  Florence,  I  do  not  remember  any 
earlier  summary  of  facts  so  lucid  and  per- 
tinent to  the  object.  That  object  was, 


*  Ranke  is  the  best  authority  on  this  dispute,  as 
he  is  on  all  other  matters  relating  to  the  papacy  in 
this  age,  vol.  ii.,  p.  324.  x 

•f  He  was  supposed  to  have  discovered  the  valves 
of  the  veins,  the  circulation  of  the  blood,  the  expan 
sion  and  contraction  of  the  pupil,  the  variation  of 
the  compass.  A  quo,  says  Baptista  Porta  of  Sarpi, 
aliqua  didicisse  non  solum  fateri  non  erubescimus, 
sed  g'oriamur,  cum  eo  doctiorem,  subtiliorem,  quot- 
quot  adhue  videre  contigerit,  neminem  cognovimus 
ad  encyclopaediam. — Magia  Naturalis,  lib.  vii.,  aoud 
Rankc. 


FROM  1600  TO  1650. 


27 


with  Father  Paul,  neither  more  nor  less 
than  to  represent  the  wealth  and  power 
of  the  church  as  ill-gotten  and  excessive. 
The  Treatise  on  Benefices  led  the  way,  or, 
rather,  was  the  seed  thrown  into  the  ground 
that  ultimately  produced  the  many  efforts 
both  of  the  press  and  of  public  authority 
to  break  down  ecclesiastical  privileges.* 

3.  The  other  works  of  Sarpi  are  numer- 
History  or  ous'  uut  none  require  our  present 
the  council  attention  except  the  most  cele- 
of  Trent,  brated,  his  History  of  the  Coun- 
cil of  Trent.  The  manuscript  of  this 
having  been  brought  to  London  by  Antonio 
de  Dominis,  was  there  published  in  1619, 
under  the  name  of  Pietro  Soave  Polano, 
the  anagram  of  Paolo  Sarpi  Veneto.  It 
was  quickly  translated  into  several  lan- 
guages, and  became  the  text-book  of  Prot- 
estantism on  the  subject.  Many  incor- 
rectnesses have  been  pointed  out  by  Pal- 
lavicini,  who  undertook  the  same  task  on 
the  side  of  Rome ;  but  the  general  credi- 
bility of  Father  Paul's  history  has  rather 
gained  by  the  ordeal  of  hostile  criticism. 
Dupin  observes  that  the  long  list  of  errors 
imputed  by  Pallavicini,  which  are  chiefly 
in  dates  and  such  trifling  matters,  make 
little  or  no  difference  as  to  the  substance 
of  Sarpi's  history ;  but  that  its  author  is 
more  blamcable  for  a  malicious  disposition 
to  impute  political  motives  to  the  members 
of  the  council,  and  idle  reasonings  which 
they  did  not  employ.!  Ranke,  who  has 
given  this  a  more  minute  scrutiny  than 
Dupin  could  have  done,  comes  nearly  to 
the  same  result.  Sarpi  is  not  a  fair,  but 
he  is,  for  those  times,  a  tolerably  exact 
historian.  His  work  exhibits  the  general 
excellences  of  his  manner ;  freedom  from 
redundancy ;  a  clear,  full,  agreeable  style  ; 
a  choice  of  what  is  most  pertinent  and 
interesting  in  his  materials.  Much  has 
been  disputed  about  the  religious  tenets  of 
Father  Paul ;  it  appears  to  me  quite  out 
of  doubt,  both  by  the  tenour  of  his  histo- 
ry, and  still  more  unequivocally,  if  possi- 
ble, by  some  of  his  letters,  that  he  was 
entirely  hostile  to  the  Church  in  the  usu- 
al sense,  as  well  as  to  the  court  of  Rome, 
sympathizing  in  affection,  and  concurring 
generally  in  opinion,  with  the  reformed 
denomination.^  But  as  he  continued  in 


*  A  long  analysis  of  the  Treatise  on  Benefices 
will  be  found  in  Dupin,  who  does  not  blame  it  very 
much.  It  is  worth  reading  through,  and  has  been 
commended  by  many  good  judges  of  history. 

t  Hist.  Eccles.,  Cent.  17. 

$  The  proofs  of  this  it  would  be  endless  to  ad- 
duce from  the  history :  they  strike  the  eye  in  every 
page,  though  it  cannot  be  expected  that  he  should 
declare  his  way  of  thinking  in  express  terms.  Even 
in  his  letters  he  does  not  this.  They  were  printed, 
with  the  date,  at  least,  of  Verona,  in  1673.  Sully's 


the  exercise  of  his  functions  as  a  Servite 
monk,  and  has  always  passed  at  Venice 
more  for  a  saint  than  a  heretic,  some  of 
the  Gallican  writers  have  not  scrupled  to 
make  use  of  his  authority,  and  to  exten- 
uate his  heterodoxy.  There  can  be  no 
question  but  that  he  inflicted  a  severe 
wound  on  the  spiritual  power. 

4.  That  power,  predominant  as  it  seem- 
ed in  the  beginning  of  the  sev-  Gaiiicaniib- 
enteenth  century,  met  with  ad-  enies.  RI- 
versaries  besides  Sarpi.  The  cher- 
French  nation,  and  especially  the  Parlia- 
ment of  Paris,  had  always  vaunted  what 
were  called  the  liberties  of  the  Gallican 
Church  ;  liberties,  however,  for  which  nei- 
ther the  church  itself,  nor  the  king,  the  two 
parties  interested,  were  prone  to  display 
much  regard.  A  certain  canonist,  Richer, 
published  in  1611  a  book  on  ecclesiastical 
and  political  power  ;  in  which  he  asserted 
the  government  of  the  church  to  be  a  mon- 
archy tempered  with  aristocracy  ;  that  is, 
that  the  authority  of  the  pope  was  limited 
in  some  respects  by  the  rights  of  the 
bishops.  Though  this  has  since  become 
a  fundamental  principle  among  the  Cisal- 
pine Catholics,  it  did  not  suit  the  high  no- 
tions of  that  age ;  and  the  bishops  were 
content  to  sacrifice  their  rights  by  joining 
in  the  clamour  of  the  papal  party.  A 

fall  he  laments,  "  having  become  partial  to  him  on 
account  of  his  firmness  in  religion."— Lett.  58.  Of 
the  republic  of  the  United  Provinces  he  says :  La 
nascenza  di  quale  si  come  Dio  ha  favorito  con 
grazie  inestimabili,  cosi  pare  che  la  malizia  del  dia- 
volo  oppugni  con  tutte  le  arti. — Lett.  23.  After 
giving  an  account  of  one  Marsilio,  who  seems  to 
have  been  a  Protestant,  he  adds  :  Credo  se  non  fosse 
per  ragion  di  stato,  si  trovarebbono  diversi,  che  sal- 
tarebbono  da  questo  fosso  di  Roma  nella  cirna  dell 
riforma;  ma  chi  terne  una  cosa,  chi  un'  altra.  Dio 
pero  par  che  goda  la  piQ  minima  parte  dei  pensieri 
urnani.  So  ch'  ella  mi  intende  senza  passar  piO 
oltre.— Lett.  81,  Feb.,  1612.  Sarpi  speaks  with 
gfeat  contempt  of  James  I.,  who  was  occupied  like 
a  pedant  about  Vorstius  and  such  matters.  Se  il 
re  d'  Inghilterra  non  fosse  dottore,  si  potrebbe  spe- 
rare  qnalche  bene,  e  sarebbe  un  gran  principio,  per- 
ch&  Spagna  non  si  puo  vincere,  se  non  levato  il  pre- 
testo  della  religione,  ne  questo  si  levera.  se  non  in- 
troducendo  i  reformati  nell'  Italia.  E  si  il  rfe  sap- 
ease  fare,  sarebbe  facile  e  in  Torino,  e  qui. — Lett. 
88.  He  wrote,  however,  a  remarkable  letter  to 
Casaubon,  much  about  this  time,  hinting  at  his  wish 
to  find  an  asylum  in  England,  and  using  rather  too 
different  language  about  the  king:  In  eo,  rarurn, 
cumulates  virtutes  principis  ac  viri.  Regum  idea 
est,  ad  quam  forte  ante  actis  sseculis  nemo  formatus 
fuit.  Si  ego  ejus  protectione  dignus  essem,  nihil 
mihi  deesse  putarem  ad  mortalis  vitas  felicitatem. 
Tu,  vir  prEestantissime,  nihil  te  dignius  eificere  po- 
tes,  quam  tanto  principimea  studiacommendare. — 
Casaubon,  Epist.  811.  Forwica  in  another  edition 
is  read  tua;  but  the  former  seems  preferable.  Ca- 
saubon replied,  that  the  king  wished  Paul  to  be  a 
light  to  his  own  country;  but,  if  anything  should 
happen,  he  had  written  to  his  ambassador,  ut  nulla 
in  re  tibi  desit. 


28 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


synod  assembled  by  Cardinal  du  Perron, 
archbishop  of  Sens,  condemned  the  book 
of  Richer,  who  was  harassed  for  the  rest 
of  his  life  by  the  persecution  of  those  he 
had  sought  to  defend  against  a  servitude 
which  they  seemed  to  covet.  His  fame 
has  risen  in  later  times.  Dupin  concludes 
a  careful  analysis  of  Richer's  treatise 
with  a  noble  penegyric  on  his  character 
and  style  of  writing.* 

5.  The  strength  of  the  ultra-montane 
Perron  Party  m  tne  Gallican  Church  was 
Perron,  a  man  of  great  natural  ca- 
pacity, a  prodigious  memory,  a  vast  knowl- 
edge of  ecclesiastical  and  profane  antiqui- 
ty, a  sharp  wit,  a  pure  and  eloquent  style, 
and  such  readiness  in  dispute  that  few 
cared  to  engage  him.f  If  he  did  not  al- 
ways reason  justly  or  upon  consistent 
principles,  these  are  rather  failings  in  the" 
eyes  of  lovers  of  truth  than  of  those,  and 
they  are  the  many,  who  sympathize  with 
the  dexterity  and  readiness  of  a  partisan. 
He  had  been  educated  as  a  Protestant, 
but,  like  half  the  learned  of  that  religion, 
went  over  from  some  motive  or  other  to 
the  victorious  side.  In  the  conference  at 
Fontainebleau  with  Du  Plessis  Mornay, 
it  has  been  mentioned  already  that  he  had 
a  confessed  advantage  ;  but  victory  in  de- 
bate follows  the  combatant  rather  than  the 
cause.  The  supporters  of  Gallican  liber- 
ties were  discouraged  during  the  life  of 
this  cardinal.  He  did  not  explicitly  set 
himself  against  them,  or  deny,  perhaps, 
the  principles  of  the  Council  of  Con- 
stance ;  but,  by  preventing  any  assertion 
of  them,  he  prepared  the  way,  as  it  was 
hoped  at  Rome,  for  a  gradual  recognition 
of  the  ^hole  system  of  Bellarmin.  Per- 
ron, however,  was  neither  a  Jesuit,  nor 
very  favourable  to  that  order.  Even  so 
late  as  1638,  a  collection  of  tracts  by  the 
learned  brothers  Du  Puy,  on  the  liberties 


*  Hist.  Eccles.,  Cent.  17, 1.  ii.,  c.  7.  Niceron,  vol. 
«vii.  The  Biographic  Universelle  talks  of  the  re- 
publican principles  of  Richer  ;  it  must  be  in  an  ec- 
clesiastical sense,  for  nothing  in  the  book,  I  think, 
relates  to  civil  politics.  Father  Paul  thought  Ri- 
cher's scheme  might  lead  to  something  better,  but 
did  not  highly  esteem  it.  Quella  mistura  del  gover- 
no  ecclesiastico  dimonarchia  e  aristocrazia  mi  pare 
una  composizione  di  oglio  e  acqua,  che  non  possono 
mai  mischiarsi  insieme.  —  Lettere  di  Sarpi,  109. 
Richer  entirely  denies  the  infallibility  of  the  pope 
in  matters  of  faith,  and  says  there  is  no  authority 
adduced  for  it  but  that  of  the  popes  themselves. 
His  work  is  written  on  the  principles  of  the  Janseni- 
zing  Gallicans  of  the  18th  century,  and  probably 
goes  farther  than  Bossuet,  or  any  who  wished 
to  keep  on  good  terms  with  Rome  would  have  open- 
ly approved.  It  is  prolix,  extending  to  two  volumes 
4to.  Some  account  of  Richer  will  be  found  in  His- 
toire  de  la  Mere  et  du  Fils,  ascribed  to  Mezeray  or 
Richelieu, 
t  Dupin. 


of  the  Church,  was  suppressed  at  the  in- 
stance of  the  nuncio,  on  the  pretext  that 
it  had  been  published  without  permission. 
It  was  reprinted  some  years  afterward^ 
when  the  power  of  Rome  had  begun  to 
decline.* 

6.  Notwithstanding  the  tone  still  held 
by  the  court  of  Rome  and  its  Decline  of  pa- 
numerous  partisans,  when  pro-  Pal  power, 
voked  by  any  demonstration  of  resistance, 
they  generally  avoided  aggressive  proceed- 
ings, and  kept  in  reserve  the  tenets  which 
could  not  be  pleasing  to  any  civil  govern- 
ment. We  should  doubtless  find  many 
assertions  of  the  temporal  authority  of 
the  pope  by  searching  into  obscure  theol- 
ogy during  this  period ;  but  after  Bellar- 
min and  Perron  were  withdrawn  from  the 
stage,  no  prominent  champions  of  that 
cause  stood  forth;  and  it  was  one  of 
which  great  talents  and  high  station  alone 
could  overcome  the  intrinsic  unpopularity. 
Slowly  and  silently,  the  power  of  Rome 
had  much  receded  before  the  middle  of 
the  seventeenth  century.  Paul  V.  was 
the  last  of  the  imperious  pontiffs  who  ex- 
acted obedience  as  sovereigns  of  Chris- 
tendom. His  successors  have  had  re- 
course to  gentler  measures,  to  a  paternal 
rather  than  regal  authority ;  they  have  ap- 
pealed to  the  moral  sense,  but  have  rarely 
or  never  alarmed  the  fears  of  their  church. 
The  long  pontificate  of  Urban  VIII.  was  a 
period  of  transition  from  strength  to  weak- 
ness. In  his  first  years,  this  pope  was  not 
inactively  occupied  in  the  great  cause  of 
subduing  the  Protestant  heresy.  It  has 
been  lately  brought  to  light,  that,  soon  after 
the  accession  of  Charles  I.,  he  had  formed 
a  scheme,  in  conjunction  with  France  and 
Spain,  for  conquering  and  partitioning  the 
British  islands  :  Ireland  was  to  be  annex- 
ed to  the  ecclesiastical  state,  and  governed 
by  a  viceroy  of  the  Holy  See.f  But  he 
afterward  gave  up  these  visionary  projects, 
and  limited  his  ambition  to  more  practica- 
ble views  of  aggrandizement  in  Italy.  It 
is  certain  that  the  temporal  principality  of 
the  popes  has  often  been  a  useful  diver- 
sion for  the  rest  of  Europe  :  the  duchy  of 
Urbino  was  less  in  our  notions  of  impor- 
tance than  Germany  or  Britain ;  but  it 
was  quite  as  capable  of  engrossing  the 
thoughts  and  passions  of  a  pope. 


*  Dupin,  l.iii.,  c.  1.  Grot  ,Epist,  1105.  Liberde 
libertatibus  ecclesiae  Gallicanae  ex  actis  desumptus 
publicis,  quo  regis  regnique  jura  contra  molitiones 
pontificias  defenduntur  ipsius  regis  jussu  vendi  eat 
prohibitus.— See  also  Epist.  519. 

t  Ranke,  ii.,  518.  It  is  not  at  all  probable  that 
France  and  Spain  would  have  seriously  coalesced 
for  any  object  of  this  kind  :  the  spoil  could  not  have 
been  safely  divided.  But  the  scheme  serves  to  show 
the  ambition,  at  that  time,  of  the  Roman  See. 


FROM  1600  TO  1650. 


29 


7.  The  subsidence  of  Catholic  zeal  be- 
linpopuiarity  fore  the  middle  of  this  age  de- 
oftheJesuits.  serves  especially  to  be  noted  at 
a  time  when,  in  various  directions,  that 
church  is  beginning  to  exalt  her  voice,  if 
not  to  rear  her  head,  and  we  are  ostenta- 
tiously reminded  of  the  sudden  revival  of 
her  influence  in  the  sixteenth  century.  It 
did  undoubtedly  then  revive ;  but  it  is  equal- 
ly manifest  that  it  receded  once  more. 
Among  the  leading  causes  of  this  decline 
in  the  influence,  not  only  of  what  are 
called  ultra-montane  principles,  but  of  the 
zeal  and  faith  that  had  attended  them,  a 
change  as  visible,  and  almost  as  rapid  as 
the  reaction  in  favour  of  them  which  we 
have  pointed  out  in  the  latter  part  of  the 
sixteenth  century,  we  must  reckon  the  in- 
creasing prejudices  against  the  Jesuit  or- 
der. Their  zeal,  union,  indefatigable  de- 
votion to  the  cause,  had  made  them  the 
most  useful  of  allies,  the  most  formidable 
of  enemies ;  but  in  these  very  qualities 
were  involved  the  seeds  of  public  hatred 
and  ultimate  ruin.  Obnoxious  to  Protest- 
ant states  for  their  intrigues  ;  to  the  law- 
yers, especially  in  France,  for  their  bold 
theories  of  political  power  and  encroach- 
ing spirit ;  to  the  Dominicans  for  the  favour 
they  had  won,  they  had  become,  long  be- 
fore the  close  of  this  period,  rather  equiv- 
ocal and  dangerous  supporters  of  the  See 
of  Rome.*  Their  fate,  in  countries  where 
the  temper  of  their  order  had  displayed 
itself  with  less  restraint,  might  have  led 
reflecting  men  to  anticipate  the  consequen- 
ces of  urging  too  far  the  patience  of  man- 
kind by  the  ambition  of  an  insulated  or- 
der of  priests.  In  the  first  part  of  this 
century  the  Jesuits  possessed  an  exten- 
sive influence  in  Japan,  and  had  reunited 
the  kingdom  of  Abyssinia  to  the  Roman 
Church.  In  the  course  of  a  few  years 
more  they  were  driven  out  from  both; 
their  intriguing  ambition  had  excited  an 
implacable  animosity  against  the  church 
to  which  they  belonged. 

8.  Cardinal  Richelieu,  though  himself 
Richelieu's  a  theological  writer,  took  great 
careofGaiii-  care  to  maintain  the  liberties  of 
can  liberties.  tne  French  crown  and  church. 
No  extravagance  of  Hildebrandic  princi- 
ples would  find  countenance  under  his  ad- 
ministration. Their  partisans  endeavour- 
ed sometimes  to  murmur  against  his  ec- 
clesiastical measures ;  it  was  darkly  ru- 
moured that  he  had  a  scheme  of  separ- 
ating the  Catholic  Church  of  France, 
something  in  the  manner  of  Henry  VIII., 
from  the  supremacy  of  Rome,  though  not 

*  Clement  VIII.  was  tired  of  the  Jesuits,  as  we 
are  told  by  Perron,  who  did  not  much  love  them,  p. 
286,  288. 


from  her  creed ;  and  one  Hersent  publish- 
ed, under  the  name  of  Optatus  Callus,  a 
book  so  rapidly  suppressed  as  to  be  of  the 
greatest  rarity,  the  aim  of  which  was  to 
excite  the  public  apprehension  of  this 
schism.*  It  was  in  defence  of  the  Galli- 
can  liberties,  so  far  as  it  was  yet  prudent 
to  assert  them,  that  De  Marca  was  em 
ployed  to  write  a  treatise,  De  Concordan 
tia  Sacerdotii  et  Imperii.  This  book  was 
censured  at  Rome  ;  yet  it  does  not  by  any 
means  come  up  to  the  language  afterward 
usual  in  the  Gallican  Church ;  it  belongs 
to  its  own  age,  the  transitional  period  in 
which  Rome  had  just  ceased  to  act,  but 
not  to  speak  as  a  mistress.  De  Marca 
was  obliged  to  make  some  concessions 
before  he  could  obtain  the  bulls  for  a  bish- 
opric. He  rose,  however,  afterward  to  the 
see  of  Paris.  The  first  part  of  his  work 
appeared  in  1641,  the  second  after  the 
death  of  the  author. 

9.  In  this  most  learned  period,  accord- 
ing to  the  sense  in  which  the  _ 

.-,     .   T,       Controversy 

word  was  then  taken,  that  Eu-  Of  Catholics 
rope  has  ever  seen,  it  was,  of  and  Protest- 
course,  to  be  expected  that  the  ants' 
studious  ecclesiastics  of  both  Romish  and 
Protestant  denomination  would  pour  forth 
a  prodigal  erudition  in  their  great  contro- 
versy. It  had  always  been  the  aim  of  the 
former  to  give  an  historical  character  to 
theological  inquiry ;  it  was  their  business 
to  ascertain  the  faith  of  the  Catholic 
Church  as  a  matter  of  fact,  the  single 
principle  of  its  infallibility  being  assumed 
as  the  basis  of  all  investigation.  But  their 
opponents,  though  less  concerned  in  the 
issue  of  such  questions,  frequently  thought 
themselves  competent  to  dispute  the  field ; 
and,  conversant  as  they  were  with  ecclesi- 
astical antiquity,  found  in  its  interminable 
records  sufficient  weapons  to  protract  the 
war,  though  not  to  subdue  the  foe.  Hence, 
partly  in  the  last  years  of  the  sixteenth 
century,  but  incomparably  more  in  the 
present,  we  find  an  essential  change  in  the 
character  of  theological  contro-  incrcased  „>. 
versy.  It  became  less  reason-  spect  for  the 
ing,  less  scriptural,  less  general,  falhers- 
and  less  popular,  but  far  more  patristic, 
that  is,  appealing  to  the  testimonies  of  the 
fathers,  and  altogether  more  historical  than 
before.  Several  consequences  of  materi- 
al influence  on  religious  opinion  sprang 
naturally  from  this  method  of  conducting 
the  defence  of  Protestantism.  One  was, 


e  Biogr.  Univ.  Grot.,  Epist.  982, 1354.  By  some 
other  letters  of  Grotius,  it  appears  that  Richelieu 
tampered  witn  those  schemes  of  reconciling  the 
different  religions  which  were  then  afloat,  and  all 
which  went  on  setting  the  pope  nearly  aside.  Ru- 
arus  intimates  the  same. — Epist.  Ruar.,  p.  401. 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


that  it  contracted  very  greatly  the  circle 
of  those  who,  upon  any  reasonable  inter- 
pretation of  the  original  principle  of  per- 
sonal judgment,  could  exercise  it  for  them- 
selves ;  it  became  the  privilege  of  the 
deeply  learned  alone.  Another,  that,  from 
the  real  obscurity  and  incoherence  of  ec- 
clesiastical authorities,  those  who  had 
penetrated  farthest  into  that  province  of 
learning  were  least  able  to  reconcile  them  ; 
and,  however  they  might  disguise  it  from 
the  world,  while  the  pen  was  in  their 
hands,  were  themselves  necessarily  left, 
upon  many  points,  in  an  embarrassing 
state  of  doubt  and  confusion.  A  third  ef- 
fect was,  that  upon  these  controversies  of 
Catholic  tradition,  the  Church  of  Rome 
had  very  often  the  best  of  the  argument ; 
and  this  was  occasionally  displayed  in 
those  wrestling  matches  between  religious 
disputants,  which  were  held,  publicly  or 
privately,  either  with  the  vain  hope  of 
coming  to  an  agreement,  or  to  settle  the 
faith  of  the  hearers.  And  from  the  two 
last  of  these  causes  it  arose  that  many 
Protestants  went  over  to  the  Church  of 
Rome,  and  that  a  new  theological  system 
was  contrived  to  combine  what  had  been 
deemed  the  incompatible  tenets  of  those 
who  had  burst  from  each  other  with  such 
violence  in  the  preceding  century. 

10.  This  retrocession,  as  it  appeared, 
Kspeciaiiy  anc^  as  in  spirit  it  was,  towards 
in  England,  the  system  abandoned  in  the  first 
Laud.  impetuosity  of  the  Reformation, 
began  in  England  about  the  conclusion  of 
the  sixteenth  century.  It  was  evidently 
connected  with  the  high  notions  of  eccle- 
siastical power,  of  an  episcopacy  by  un- 
broken transmission  from  the  apostles,  of 
a  pompous  ritual,  which  the  rulers  of  the 
Anglican  Church  took  up  at  that  time  in 
opposition  to  the  Puritans.  It  rapidly 
gained  ground  in  the  reign  of  James,  and 
still  more  of  his  son.  Andrews,  a  man 
far  more  learned  in  patristic  theology  than 
any  of  the  Elizabethan  bishops,  or  per- 
haps than  any  of  his  English  contempora- 
ries except  Usher,  was,  if  not  the  found- 
er, the  chief  leader  of  this  school.  Laud 
became  afterward,  from  his  political  im- 
portance, its  more  conspicuous  head  ;  and 
from  him  it  is  sometimes  styled.  In  his 
conference  with  the  Jesuit  Fisher,  first 
published  in  1624,  and  afterward,  with 
many  additions,  in  1639,  we  find  an  at- 
tempt, not  feeble,  and,  we  may  believe,  not 
feigned,  to  vindicate  the  Anglican  Protest- 
antism, such  as  he  meant  it  to  be,  against 
the  Church  of  Rome,  but  with  much  def- 
erence to  the  name  of  Catholic,  and  the 
authority  of  the  ancient  fathers.*  It  is 

*  Ce  qu'il  y  a  de  particular  dans  cette  confe- 


unnecessary  to  observe,  that  this  was  the 
prevalent  language  of  the  English  Church 
in  that  period  of  forty  years  which  was 
terminated  by  the  civil  war ;  and  that  it 
was  accompanied  by  a  marked  enhance- 
ment of  religious  ceremonies,  as  well  as 
by  a  considerable  approximation  to  sever- 
al  doctrines  and  usages  of  the  Romanists. 

11.  The  progress  of  the  latter  church 
for  the  first  thirty  years  of  the  Derectionsto 
present  century  was  as  striking  the  catholic 
and  uninterrupted  as  it  had  been  Clmrcl1- 

in  the  final  period  of  the  sixteenth.  Vic- 
tory crowned  its  banners  on  every  side. 
The  signal  defeats  of  the  Elector  Palatine 
and  the  King  of  Denmark,  the  reduction 
of  Rochelle,  displayed  an  evident  superi- 
ority in  the  ultimate  argument  to  which 
the  Protestants  had  been  driven,  and 
which  silences  every  other ;  while  a  rigid 
system  of  exclusion  from  court  favour  and 
of  civil  discouragement,  or  even  of  ban- 
ishment, and  suppression  of  public  wor- 
ship, as  in  the  Austrian  dominions,  brought 
round  the  wavering  and  flexible  to  acqui- 
esce with  apparent  willingness  in  a  despo- 
tism they  could  neither  resist  nor  escape. 
The  nobility,  both  in  France  and  Germany, 
who  in  the  last  age  had  been  the  first  to 
embrace  a  new  faith,  became  afterward 
the  first  to  desert  it.  Many  also  of  the 
learned  and  able  Protestants  gave  evidence 
of  the  jeopardy  of  that  cause  by  their  con- 
version. It  is  not,  however,  just  to  infer 
that  they  were  merely  influenced  by  this 
apprehension.  Two  other  causes  mainly 
operated ;  one,  to  which  we  have  above 
alluded,  the  authority  given  to  the  tradi- 
tions of  the  Church,  recorded  by  the  wri- 
ters called  fathers,  and  with  which  it  was 
found  very  difficult  to  reconcile  all  the 
Protestant  creed  ;  another,  the  intolerance 
of  the  reformed  churches,  both  Lutheran 
and  Calvinistic,  which  gave  as  little  lati- 
tude as  that  which  they  had  quitted. 

12.  The    defectimis,    from    whatever 
cause,  are  numerous  in  the  sev-  wavering  of 
enteenth    century.      But    two,  Casaubon, 
more 'eminent  than  any  who  actually  re- 


rence,  c'est  qu'on  y  cite  beaucoup  plus  les  pe.res 
de  1'eglise,  que  n'ont  accontume  de  faire  les  Prot- 
estans  de  dega  la  mer.  Comme  1'eglise  Anglicane 
a  une  veneration  toute  particuli&re  pour  I'antiquit^, 
c'est  par  la  que  les  Catholiques  Remains  1'attaquent 
ordinairement. — Bibl.  Univ.,  i.,  336.  Laud,  as  well 
as  Andrews,  maintained  "  that  the  true  and  real 
body  of  Christ  is  in  that  blessed  sacrament." — Con- 
ference with  Fisher,  p.  299  (edit.  1639).  And  after- 
ward, "  for  the  Church  of  England,  nothing  is  more 
plain  than  that  it  believes  and  teaches  the  true  and 
real  presence  of  Christ  in  the  Eucharist."  Nothing 
is  more  plain  than  the  contrary,  as  Hall,  who  be 
longed  to  a  different  school  of  theology,  though  the 
friend  of  Laud,  has  in  equivalent  words  observed. 
— Hall's  works  (Pratt's  edition),  vol.  ix.,  p.  37-L 


FROM  1600  TO  1650. 


31 


nounced  the  Protestant  religion,  must  be 
owned  to  have  given  evident  signs  of 
wavering,  Casaubon  and  Grotius.  The 
proofs  of  this  are  not  founded  merely  on 
anecdotes  which  might  be  disputed,  but 
on  their  own  language.*  Casaubon  was 
staggered  by  the  study  of  the  fathers,  in 
which  he  discovered  many  things,  espe- 
cially as  to  the  Eucharist,  which  he  could 
not  in  any  manner  reconcile  with  the  ten- 
ets of  the  French  Huguenots. f  Perron 


*  In  his  correspondence  with  Scaliger,  no  indi- 
cations of  any  vacillation  as  to  religion  appear.  Of 
the  unfortunate  conference  between  Du  Plessis 
Mornay  and  Du  Perron,  in  the  presence  of  Henry 
[V.,  where  Casaubon  himself  had  been  one  of  the 
umpires,  he  speaks  with  great  regret,  though  with 
a  full  acknowledgment  that  his  champion  had  been 
worsted.  Quod  scnbis  de  congressu  Diomedis  cum 
Glauco,  sic  est  onmino,  ut  tu  judicas  recto.  Vir 
optimus,  si  eum  suaprudentia  orbi  Gallico  satis  ex- 
plorata  non  defecisset,  nunquam  ejus  certaminis 
alearn  subiisset.  After  much  more  he  concludes  : 
Equidem  in  lacrymas  prope  adducor,  quoties  subit 
animo  tristissima  illius  diei  species,  cum  de  in- 
genua  nobilitate,  de  excellent!  ingenio,  de  ipsa  de- 
nique  veritate  pompatice  adeo  vidi  triumphatum  — 
Epist.  21-1  (Oct.,  1600).  See  also  a  letter  to  Hein- 
sius  on  the  same  subject.  Casaub.,  Epist.  809. 
In  a.  letter  to  Perron  himself,  in  1604,  he  professed 
to  adhere  to  Scripture  alone,  against  those  who 
vetustatis  auctoritatern  pro  ratione  obtendunt. — 
Epist.  417.  A  change,  however,  came  gradually  over 
his  mind,  and  he  grew  fascinated  by  this  very  au- 
thority of  antiquity.  In  1609  he  had,  by  the  king's 
command,  a  conference  on  religion  with  Du  Per- 
ron, but  very  reluctantly,  and,  as  his  biographer 
owns,  quibusdam  visus  est  quodamrnodo  cespitasse 
Casaubon  was,  for  several  reasons,  no  match  in 
such  a  disputation  for  Perron.  In  the  first  place,  he 
was  poor  and  weak,  and  the  other  powerful,  which 
is  a  reason  that  might  dispense  with  our  giving  any 
others  ;  but,  secondly,  he  had  less  learning  in  the 
fathers  ;  and,  thirdly,  he  was  entangled  by  deference 
for  these  same  fathers  ;  finally,  he  was  not  a  man  of 
as  much  acutenessand  eloquence  as  his  antagonist. 
The  issue  of  battle  does  not  follow  the  better  cause, 
but  the  sharper  sword,  especially  when  there  is  so 
much  ignoratio  elenchi  as  in  this  case. 

t  Perron  continued  to  persecute  Casaubon  with 
argument,  whenever  he  met  him  in  the  king's  li- 
brary. Je  vous  confesse  (the  latter  told  Wytenbo- 
gart)  qu'il  m'a  donnd  beaucoup  des  scrupules  qui 
me  restent,et  auxquels  je  ne  scai  pasbien  repondre 
. .  .  il  me  fache  de  rougir.  L'escapade  que  je  prens 
est  que  je  ri'y  puis  repondre,  mais  que  j'y  penserai. 
—  Casaubom  Vita  (ad  edit.  Epistolarum,  1709). 
And,  in  writing  to  the  same  Wyteribogart,  Jan., 
1610,  we  find  similar  signs  of  wavering-.  Me,  ne 
quid  dissimulem,  hasc  tanta  diversitas  a  fide  veteris 
ecclesiae  non  parum  turbat.  Ne  de  aliis  dicam,  in 
re  sacramentaria  a  majoribus  discessit  Lutherus,  a 
Luthero  Zuinglius,  ab  utroque  Calvinus,  a  Calvino 
qui  postea  scripserunt.  Nam  constat  mini  ac  certis- 
simum  est,  doctrinam  Calvini  de  sacra  eucharistia 
longe  aliam  esse  ab  ea  qua?  in  libro  observandi  viri 
Molinjei  nostri  continetur,  et  quae  vulgo  in  ecclesiis 
nostris  auditur.  Itaque  Molinoeum  qui  oppugnant, 
Calvinum  illi  non  minus  objiciunt,  quam  aliquem  e 
veteribus  ecclesiae  doctoribus.  Si  sic  pergimns, 
quis  tandem  erit  exitus  ?  Jam  quod  idem  Moli- 
nsus,  omnes  veterum  librossuae  doctrinae  contrarios 
respuit,  ut  uTroSaXi/jatouy,  cui  mediocriter  docto  fidem 


used  to  assail  him  with  arguments  he  could 
not  parry.  If  we  may  believe  this  cardi- 
nal, he  was  on  the  point  of  declaring  pub- 
licly his  conversion  before  he  accepted 
the  invitation  of  James  I.  to  England ;  and 
even  while  in  England  he  promoted  the 


faciet?  Falsus  illi  Cyrillus,  Hierosolymorumepis- 
copus ;  falsus  Gregorius  Nyssenus,  falsus  Ambro- 
sius,  falsi  omnes.  Mihi  liquet  falli  ipsum,  et  ilia 
scripta  esse  verissima,  quae  ille  pronuntiat  yevtitm- 
•ypatya. — Ep.  670.  See  also  Epist.  1043,  written 
from  Pans  in  the  same  year.  lie  came  now  to  Eng 
land,  and  to  his  great  satisfaction  found  the  church 
and  its  prelates  exactly  what  he  would  wish,  lllud 
solatio  mihi  est,  quod  in  hoc  regno  speciem  agnosco 
veteris  ecclesiw,  quam  ex  patrum  scriptis  didici. 
Adde  qnod  episcopis  otr^epat  avvSiaytit  doctissimis, 
sapientissimis,  twefcorrtroij,  et  quod  novum  mihi 
est, prises  ecclesia3  amantissimis  (Lond.,  1611). — 
Ep.  703.  His  letters  are  full  of  similar  language. — 
See  743.  7-44,  772,  &c.  He  combined  this  inordi- 
nate respect  for  authority  with  its  natural  concom- 
itant, a  desire  to  restrain  free  inquiry.  Though  his 
patristic  lore  should  have  made  him  not  unfavoura- 
ble to  the  Arminians,  he  wrote  to  Bertius,  one  of 
their  number,  against  the  liberty  of  conscience  they 
required.  Ilia  quam  passim  celebras,  prophetandi 
libertas,  bonis  et  piis  hujus  ecclesise  viris  mirum  in 
modum  suspecta  res  est  et  odiosa.  Nemo  enim 
dubitat  de  pietate  Christiana  actum  esse  inter  vos, 
si  quod  videris  agere,  illustrissimis  ordinibus  fuerit 
semel  persuasum,  ut  liberum  unicuique  essevelint, 
via  regia  relicta  semitam  ex  animi  libidine  sibi  aliis- 
que  aperire.  Atqui  veritas,  ut  scis,  in  omnibus  re- 
bus scientiis  et  disciplinis  vmica  est,  et  TO  fyavtiv 
ravro  inter  ecclesiae  vera;  notas,  fateantur  omnes, 
non  est  postrema.  Ut  nulli  esse  dubium  possit, 
quin  tot  iroXuo-^tiJjif  semitos  totidem  sint  errorum 
diverticula.  Quod  olim  de  politicis  rebus  pruden- 
tissirni  phiiosophorum  dixerunt,  id  mihi  videtur 
multo  etiam  magis  in  ecclesiasticis  locum  habere, 
rrjv  ayav  e\tvQcpiav  ti;  ^ouXeiav  E|  avay/oys  TsXsurav, 
et  xnaavTvpavvi&ii  uvap^iaj  esse  KpetTTtjv  [sic  !]  et  Op- 
tabiliorern.  .  .  .  Ego  qui  inter  pontificios  diu  sum  in 
patria  mea  versatus.hoc  tibi  possum  affirmare,  nul- 
la  re  magis  stabiliri  r>jv  rvpavvtSa  rov  ^^,  quam  dis- 
sendonibus  nostris  et  dissidiis. 

Meric  Casaubon's  "  Pietas  contra  Maledicos  Pa- 
trii  Nominis  ac  Religionis  Hostes"  is  an  elaborate 
vindication  of  his  father  against  all  charges  alleged 
by  his  adversaries.  The  only  one  that  presses  ia 
that  of  wavering  in  religion.  And  here  Meric  can- 
didly owns  that  his  father  had  been  shaken  by  Per- 
ron about  1610.  (See  this  tract  subjoined  to  Alme- 
loveen's  edition  of  the  Epistles,  p.  89.)  But  after- 
ward, by  dint  of  theological  study,  he  got  rid  of  the 
scruples  the  cardinal  had  infused  into  him,  and  be- 
came a  Protestant  of  the  new  Anglican  school, 
admiring  the  first  six  centuries,  and  especially  the 
period  after  Constantine  ;  Hoc  saeculura  cum  duo- 
bus  sequentibus  nK^»/T^;  eKK\r]<rias,  flos  ipse  ecclesiffl 
et  aetas  illius  aureaqueat  nuncupari  — Prolegomena 
inExercitationesin  Baronium.  His  friend  Scaliger 
had  very  different  notions  of  the  fathers.  The  fa- 
thers, says  he,  in  his  blunt  way,  are  very  ignorant, 
know  nothing1  of  Hebrew,  and  teach  us  little  in 
theology.  Their  interpretations  of  scripture  are 
strangely  perverse.  Even  Polycarp,  who  was  a 
disciple  of  the  apostles,  is  full  of  errors.  It  will  not 
do  to  say  that,  because  they  were  near  the  apostolic 
age,  they  nre  never  wrong. — Scaligerana  Secunda. 
Le  Clerc  has  some  good  remarks  on  the  deference 
shown  by  Casaubon  to  the  language  held  by  the  fa- 
thers about  the  Eucharist,  which  shook  his  Protest- 
antism.—Bibl.  Choisie,  xix.,  230. 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


Catholic  r.ause  more  than  the  world  was 
aware.*  This  is  more  than  we  can  read- 
ily believe ;  and  we  know  that  he  was  en- 
gaged both  in  maintaining  the  temporal 
rights  of  the  crown  against  the  school  of 
Bellarmin,  and  in  writing  animadversions 
on  the  ecclesiastical  annals  of  Baronius. 
But  this  opposition  to  the  extreme  line  of 
the  ultra-montanists  might  be  well  com- 
patible with  a  tendency  towards  much  that 
the  reformers  had  denounced.  It  seemed, 
in  truth,  to  disguise  the  corruptions  of  the 
Catholic  Church,  by  rendering  the  contro- 
versy almost  what  we  might  call  person- 
al ;  as  if  Rome  alone,  either  by  usurping 
the  headship  of  the  Church,  which  might 
or  might  not  have  bad  consequences,  or 
by  its  encroachments  on  the  civil  power, 
which  were  only  maintained  by  a  party, 
were  the  sole  object  of  that  religious  op- 
position which  had  divided  one  half  of 
Europe  from  the  other.  Yet  if  Casaubon, 
as  he  had  much  inclination  to  do,  being 
on  ill  terms  with  some  in  England,  and 
disliking  the  country,!  nad  returned  to 
France,  it  seems  probable  that  he  would 
not  long  have  continued  in  what,  accord- 
ing to  the  principles  he  had  adopted,  would 
appear  a  schismatical  communion. 

13.  Grotius  was,  from  the  time  of  his 


*  Perroniana.    Grot.,  Epist,  p.  939. 

t  Several  of  his  letters  attest  his  desire  of  re- 
turning. He  wrote  to  Thuanus  imploring  his  rec- 
ommendation to  the  queen  regent.  But  he  had 
given  much  offence  by  writing  against  Baronius, 
and  had  very  little  chance  of  an  indemnity  for  his 
prebend  of  Canterbury,  if  he  had  given  that  up  on 
leaving  England.  This  country,  however,  though 
he  sometimes  calls  it  fiaicapuv  vrjaos,  did  not  suit  his 
disposition.  He  was  never  on  good  terms  with  Sa- 
vile,  the  most  presumptuous  of  the  learned,  accord- 
ing to  him,  and  most  scornful,  whom  he  accused  of 
setting  on  Montague  to  anticipate  his  animadver- 
sions on  Baronius,  with  some  suspicion,  on  Casau- 
bon's  part,  of  stealing  from  him. — Ep.  794,  848,  849. 
But  he  seems  himself  to  have  become  generally  un- 
popular, if  we  may  trust  his  own  account.  Ego  mo- 
res Anglorum  non  capio.  Quoscunquehabui  notos 
priusquam  hue  venirem,  jam  ego  illis  sum  ignotus, 
vere  peregrinus,  barbarus;  nemo  illorum  me  vel 
verbulo  appellat ;  appellatus  siltt.  Hoc  quid  sit,  non 
scio.  Hie  [Henricus  Wotton]  virdoctissirnus  ante 
annos  viginti  mecum  Geneva?  vixit,  et  ex  eo  tem- 
pore  literis  amicitiam  coluimus.  Postquam  ego  e 
Galliis,  ille  Venetiis  hue  convenimus,  desii  esse  illi 
notus ;  meae  quoque  epistola  responsum  dedit  nul- 
lum ;  an  sit  daturus  nescio.— Ep.  841.  It  seems 
difficult  to  account  for  so  marked  a  treatment  of  Ca- 
saubon, except  on  the  supposition  that  he  was 
thought  to  pursue  a  course  unfavourable  to  the 
Protestant  interest.  He  charges  the  English  with 
despising  every  one  but  themselves ;  and  ascribes 
this  to  the  vast  wealth  of  their  universities  ;  a  verv 
discreditable  source  of  pride  in  our  ancestors,  if  so 
it  were.  But  Casaubon's  philological  and  critical 
skill  passed  for  little  in  this  country,  where  it  was 
not  known  enough  to  be  envied.  In  mere  ecclesi- 
astical learning  he  was  behind  some  English  schol- 
ars. 


turning  his  mind  to  theology,  almost  and  of 
as  much  influenced  as  Casaubon  by  Grotius. 
primitive  authority,  and  began,  even  in 
1614,  to  commend  the  Anglican  Church 
for  the  respect  it  showed,  very  unlike  the 
rest  of  the  reformed,  to  that  standard.* 
But  the  ill-usage  he  sustained  at  the  hands 
of  those  who  boasted  their  independence 
of  papal  tyranny ;  the  caresses  of  the  Gal- 
lican  clergy  after  he  had  fixed  his  resi- 
dence at  Paris ;  the  growing  dissensions 
and  virulence  of  the  Protestants ;  the 
choice  that  seemed  alone  to  be  left  in  their 
communion,  between  a  fanatical  anarchy, 
disintegrating  everything  like  a  church  on 
the  one  hand,  and  a  domination  of  bigoted 
and  vulgar  ecclesiastics  on  the  other,  made 
him  gradually  less  and  less  averse  to  the 
comprehensive  and  majestic  unity  of  the 
Catholic  hierarchy,  and  more  and  more 
willing  to  concede  some  point  of  uncertain 
doctrine,  or  some  form  of  ambiguous  ex- 
pression. This  is  abundantly  perceived, 
and  has  often  been  pointed  out,  in  his  An- 
notations on  the  Consultationtof  Cassan- 
der,*  written  in  1641 ;  in  his  Animadver- 


*  Casaubon  himself  hailed  Grotius  as  in  the  right 
path.  In  hodiernis  contentionibus  in  negotio  reli- 
gionis  et  docte  et  pie  judicat,  et  in  veneratione  an- 
tiquitatis  cum  iis  sentit,  qui  optime  sentiunt. — 
Epist.  883.  See  also  772,  which  is  addressed  to 
him.  This  high  respect  for  the  fathers  and  for  the 
authority  of  the  primitive  church  grew  strongly 
upon  him,  and  the  more  because  he  found  they  were 
hostile  to  the  Calvinistic  scheme.  He  was  quite 
delighted  at  rinding  Jerome  and  Chrysostom  on  his 
side. — Epist.  29  (1614).  In  the  next  year,  writing 
to  Vossius,  he  goes  a  great  length.  Casterum  ego 
reformatarumecclesiarum  miseriam  in  hoc  maximo 
deploro,  quod  cum  symbola  condere  Catholicae  sit 
ecclesire,  ipsis  inter  se  nunquam  earn  in  rem  con- 
venire  sit  datum,  atque  interim  libelli  apologetic! 
ex  re  nata  scripti  ad  imperatorem,  reges,  principes, 
aut  ut  in  concilio  cecutnenico  exhiberentur,  trahi 
cceperint  in  usum  longe  alienum.  Quid  enim  magia 
est  alienum  ab  unitate  Catholica  quam  quod  diver- 
sis  in  regionibus  pastores  diversa  populo  tradere 
coguntur '!  Quam  mirata  fuisset  hoc  prodigium 
pia  antiquitas !  Sed  hsec  aliaque  multa  mussitanda 
sunt  nobis  ob  iniquitatem  temporum. — Epist.  66. 
He  was  at  this  time,  as  he  continued  till  near  the 
end  of  his  life,  when  he  moved  on  farther,  highly 
partial  to  the  Anglican  Church.  He  was,  however, 
too  Krastian  for  the  English  bishops  of  the  reign  of 
James,  as  appears  by  a  letter  addressed  to  him  by 
Overall,  who  objected  to  his  giving,  in  his  treatise 
De  Imperio  circa  Sacra,  a  definitive  power  in  con- 
troversies of  faith  to  the  civil  magistrate,  and  to  his 
putting  episcopacy  among  non-essentials,  which  the 
bishops  held  to  be  of  divine  right.  Grotius  adhered 
to  his  opinion,  that  episcopacy  was  not  commanded 
as  a  perpetual  institution,  and  thought,  at  that  time, 
that  there  was  no  other  distinction  between  bishops 
and  priests  than  of  precedency.  Ts'usquam  memi- 
nit,  he  says  in  one  place,  Clemens  Romanus  ex- 
sortis  illius  Episcoporum  auctoritatis,  quas  ecclesia 
consuetudine  post  Marci  mortem  Alexandria,  at- 
que eo  exemplo  alibi,  introduci  coepit,  sed  plane  ut 
Paulus  Apostolus,  ostendit  ecclesias  communi  Pres- 
byterorum,  qui  iidem  omnes  et  cpiscopi  ipsi  PauJo- 


FROM  1GOO  TO  1G50. 


sions  on  Rivet,  who  had  censured  the  for- 
mer treatise  as  inclining  to  Popery  ;  in  the 


Votum  pro  Pace  Ecclesiastica,  and  in  the 
Rivetiani  Apologetici  Discussio ;  all  which 


que  dicuntur,  consilio  fuisse  gubernatas.  Even  in 
his  latter  writings  he  seems  never  to  have  em- 
braced the  notions  of  some  Anglican  divines  on  this 
subject,  but  contents  himself,  in  his  remarks  on 
Cassander,  who  had  said,  singularly  as  it  may  be 
thought,  Convemt  inter  omnes  olim  Apostolorum 
jetate  inter  Episcopos  et  Presbyteros  discrimen  nul- 
lum  fuisse,  sed  nostmodum  ordmis  servandi  et 
jchismatis  evitandi  causa  Episcopurn  Presbytens 
fuisse  prajpositum,  with  observing,  Episcopi  sunt 
Presbyterorum  principes  ;  et  ista  -naocTaaia  (praesi- 
lentia)  a  Clinsto  praemonstrata  est  in  Petro,  ab 
Apostolis  vero,  ubicunque  fieri  poterat.  constituta, 
tt  a  Spiritu  Saucto  comprobata  in  Apocalypsi. — 
Op.  Theolog.,  iv.,  579,621. 

But  to  return  from  this  digression  to  the  more 
immediate  purpose.  Grotius  for  several  years  con- 
tinued in  this  insulated  state,  neither  approving  of 
the  Reformation  nor  the  Church  of  Home.  He 
wrote  in  1622  to  Episcopius  against  those  whom  he 
called  Cassandrians,  Qui  etiam  plerosque  Romans: 
ecclesiae  errores  improbantibus  auctores  sunt,  ne  ab 
ejus  comrnunione  discedant. — Epist.  181.  He  was 
destined  to  become  Cassandrian  himself,  or  some- 
thing more.  The  infallibility  of  the  Church  was 
still  no  doctrine  of  his.  At  ilia  auctoritas  ecclesisc 
ai>a//npri7roir,  quarn  ecclesise,  et  quidern  suaj,  Ro- 
manenses  ascrtbunt,  cum  natural!  ratione  non  sit 
evidens,  nam  ipsi  fatentur  Judaicam  ecclesiam  id 
privilegium  non  habuisse,  sequitur  ut  adversus  ne- 
gantes  probari  debeat  ex  sacris  litcris. — Epist.,  se- 
cunda  series,  p.  701  (1020).  And  again  :  Qua?  scri- 
bit  pater  de  resituendis  rebus  in  eum  statum,  qvii 
ante  concilium  Tridentinum  fuerat,  esset  quidem 
hoc  perrnultum  ;  sed  transubstaritiatio  etei  respon- 
dens  adoratio  pridem  Lateranensi  concilio  definita 
est,  et  invocatio  peculiaris  sanctorum  pridem  in  otn- 
nes  liturgias  recepta,  p.  772  (1623). 

Grotius  passed  most  of  his  latter  years  at  Paris, 
in  the  honourable  station  of  ambassador  from  the 
court  of  Sweden.  He  seems  to  have  thought  it  a 
matter  of  boast  that  he  did  not  live  as  a  Protestant. 
— See  Ep.  190.  The  Huguenot  ministers  of  Cha- 
renton  requested  him  to  communicate  with  them, 
which  he  declined,  p.  854,  856  (1035).  lie  now 
was  brooding  over  a  scheme  of  union  among  Prot- 
estants: the  English  and  Swedish  churches  were 
to  unite,  and  to  be  followed  by  Denmark.  Consti- 
tuto  semel  aliquo  tali  ecclesiarum  corpore,  spes  est 
subinde  alios  atque  alios  se  aggregaturos.  Est  au- 
tem  haec  res  eo  magis  optanda  protestantibus,  quod 
quotidie  multi  eos  deserunt  et  se  coetibus  Kotnan- 
ensium  addunt,  non  alia  de  causa,  quam  quod  non 
unutn  est  eorum  corpus,  sed  partes  distracts,  gre- 
ges,  segregcs,  propna  cuique  sna  sacrorurn  com- 
munio,  ingtns  praeterea  maledicendi  certamen  — 
Epist.  866.  (1637).  See  also  p.  827(1030).  He  fan- 
cied that  by  such  a  weight  of  authority,  grounded 
i  n  the  ancient  church,  the  exercise  of  private  judg- 
ment, on  which  he  looked  with  horror,  might  be 
overruled.  Nisi  interpretandi  sacras  literas.  he 
writes  to  Calixtus,  libertatum  cohibemes  intra  line- 
ns eorum,  quae  omnes  ilia?  non  sanctitate  minus 
quam  primaeva  vetustate  venerabiles  ebclesiae  ex  ipsa 
praedicatione  scripturis  ubique  consenliente  hau- 
serint,  diuque  sub  crucis  maxime  magisterio  retin- 
uerint,  nisi  deinde  in  iisquaj  liberarn  habuere  dispu- 
tationem  fraterua  lenitate  ferre  alii  alios  discimus, 
quis  erit  litium  saspe  in  factiones,  deinde  inbella 
erumpentium  finis?— Ep.  674  (Oct.,  J636).  Qui 
illamoptimam  antiquitatern  sequuntur  ducem,  quod 
te  semper  fecisse  rnemini,  iis  non  eveniet,  ut  rnul- 
liim  sibi  ipsis  sint  discolores.  In  Anglia  vides 
VOL.  II.— E 


quam  bene  processerit  dogmatum  noxiorum  repur- 
gatio,  hax  maxime  de  causa  quod  qui  id  sanctissi- 
rnum  negotium  procurandum  suscepere  nihil  admis- 
cuerunt  novi,  nihil  sui,  sed  ad  meliora  sascula  inten- 
tam  habuere  oculorum  aciem. — Ep.  966  (1638). 

But  he  could  not  be  long  in  perceiving  that  this 
union  of  Protestant  churches  was  impossible  from 
the  very  independence  of  their  original  constitution. 
He  saw  that  there  could  be  no  practicable  reunion 
except  with  Rome  itself,  nor  that,  except  on  an  ac- 
knowledgment of  her  superiority.  From  the  year 
1010  his  letters  are  full  of  sanguine  hopes  that  this 
delusive  vision  would  be  realized.  He  still  expect- 
ed some  concession  on  the  other  side  ;  but,  as  usu- 
al, would  have  lowered  his  terms  according  to  the 
pertinacity  of  his  adversaries,  if  indeed  they  were 
still  to  be  called  his  adversaries.  He  now  publish- 
ed his  famous  annotations  on  Cassander,  and  the 
other  tracts  mentioned  in  the  text,  to  which  they 
gave  rise.  In  these  he  defends  almost,  everything 
we  deem  popery,  such  as  transubstantiation  (Opera 
Theologica,  iv.,  619),  stooping  to  all  the  nonsensical 
evasions  of  a  spiritual  mutation  of  substances  and 
the  like ;  the  authority  of  the  pope  (p.  642),  the  cel- 
ibacy of  the  clergy  (p.  645),  the  communion  in  one 
kind  (ibid.),  arid,  in  fact,  is  less  of  a  Protestant  than 
Cassander.  In  his  epistles  he  declares  himself  de- 
cidedly in  favourof  purgatory,  as  at  least  aprobable 
doctrine,  p.  930.  In  these  writings  he  seems  to 
have  had  the  countenance  of  Richelieu.  Cardina- 
lis  qnin  cvtatftws  negotium  in  Gallia  successurum 
sit,  dubitare  se  negat. — Epist.,  sec.  series,  p.  912. 
Cardinalis  Ricelianus  rem  successuram  putat.  Ita 
certe  loquitur  multis.  Archiepiscopus  Cantuarien- 
sis  poenas  dat  honestissimi  consilii,  quod  et  aliis 
boms  scepeevenit,  p.  911.  Grotius  is  now  run  away 
with  by  vanity,  and  fancies  all  will  go  according  to 
his  wishes,  showing  much  ignorance  of  the  real 
state  of  tnings.  He  was  left  by  some  from  whom 
he  had  entertained  hopes,  and  thought  the  Dutch 
Arminians  timid.  Vossius  ut  video,  prae  metu,  forte 
et  ex  Anglia  sic  jussus,  auxilium  suum  mihi  sub- 
trahit,  p.  908.  Salmasius  adhuc  in  consiliis  fluctu- 
at.  Est  in  religionis  rebus  suse  parti  addictior  quarn 
putabatur,  p.  912.  De  Episcopio  doleo;  est  vir 
magm  iugenii  et  probus,  sed  nimium  cupidus  alen- 
dse  partis.  But  it  is  probable  that  he  had  misinter- 
preted some  language  of  these  great  men,  who  con- 
templated with  regret  the  course  he  was  taking, 
which  could  be  no  longer  a  secret.  De  Grotii  ad 
pnpam  dcfectione,  a  French  Protestant  of  some  em- 
inence for  learning  writers,  tanquam  re  certa,  quod 
fama  istuc  distulit,  verum  non  est.  Sed  non  sine 
magno  metu  eum  aliquid  istiusmodi  meditantem  et 
conantem  quotidie  inviti  videmus.  Inter  Protestan- 
tes  cujuslibet  ordmis  npmen  ejus  ascribi  vetat.quod 
eos  atrocius  sugillavit  in  Appendice  de  Antichristo, 
et  Annotatis  ad  Cassandri  consultationem. — Sarra- 
vii  Epistolte,  p.  58  (1642).  And  again  he  expresses 
his  strong  .disapprobation  of  one  of  the  later  trea- 
tises. Verissirne  dixit  ille  qui  primus  dixit  Groti- 
um  pnpissare,  p.  196.  See  also  p.  31,  53. 

In  1642  Grotius  had  become  wholly  averse  to  the 
Reformation.  He  thought  it  had  done  more  harm 
than  good,  especially  by  the  habit  of  interpreting 
everything  on  the  papal  side  for  the  worse  Malos 
mores  qni  mansere  corrigi  acquum  «st.  Sed  an  non 
hoc  melius  successurum  fuerit,  si  quisque  semet 
repurgans  pro  repurgationealiorumprecesad  Deum 
tulisset,  et  principes  et  episcopi  correctionemdesid- 
erantes,  non  rupta  compage,  per  concilia  univer- 
salia  in  id  laborasseht.  Dignum  est  de  quo  cogite- 
tur,  p  938.  Auratus,  as  he  calls  him,  that  is,  D'Or, 


34 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


are  collected  in  the  fourth  volume  of  the 
theological    works    of    Grotius.      These 


treatises  display  a  uniform  and  progress- 
ive tendency  to  defend  the  Church  of  Rome 


a  sort  of  chaplain  to  Grotius,  became  a  Catholic 
about  this  time.  The  other  only  says,  Quod  Au- 
ratus  fecit,  idem  fecit  aritehac  vir  doctissimus  Pe- 
trus  Pithaeus ;  idem  constituent  facere  Casaubonus 
si  in  Gallia  mansisset,  affirmavit  enim  id  inter  alios 
etiam  Cordesio,  p.  939.  Of  Casaubon  he  says  af- 
terward :  Casaubonus  multo  saniores  puta-bat  Ca- 
tholicos  Gallia;  quam  Carentonianos  Anglos  au- 
tem  Episcopos  putabata  schismatis  culpa  posse  ab- 
solvi,  p.  940.  Every  successive  year  saw  him  now 
draw  nearer  to  Rome.  Reperio  autem  quicquid 
communiter  ab  ecclesia  occidentali  quae  Romanae 
ccJhaeretrecipitur,  idem  roperiri  apud  Patres  veteres 
Graecos  et  Latinos,  quorum  coinrminionem  reti- 
nendam  esse  vix  quisquam  neget.  Si  quid  praeter 
hoc  est,  id  ad  liberas  doctorum  opinationes  perti- 
net ;  in  quibus  suum  quis  judicium  sequi  potest, 
et  communionis  jus  non  amittere,  p.  958.  Episco- 
pius  was  for  limiting  articles  of  faith  to  the  creed. 
But  Grotius  did  not  agree  with  this,  and  points  out 
that  it  would  not  preserve  uniformity.  Quam  mul- 
ta  jam  sunt  de  sacramentis,  de  ecclesiarum  regt- 
mine,  in  quibus,  vel  concordiae  causa,  certi  aliquid 
observari  debet.  Alioqui  compages  ecclesiae  tanto- 
pere  nobis  commendata  retineri  noti  potest,  p.  941. 
It  would  be  endless  to  quote  every  passage  tending 
to  the  same  result.  Finally,  in  a  letter  to  his  broth- 
er in  Holland,  he  expresses  his  hope  that  Wyten- 
bogart,  the  respectable  patriarch  of  Anninianism, 
would  turn  his  attention  to  the  means  of  restoring 
unity  to  the  church.  Velim  D.  Wytenbogardum, 
ubi  permiserit  vaietudo,  nisi  id  jam  fecerit,  scrip- 
turn  aliquid  facere  de  necessitate  restitnenda:  in 
ecclesia  unitatis,  et  quibus  modis  id  iieri  possit. 
Multi  pro  reinedio  monstrant,  si  necessaria  a  non 
necessariis  separentur,  in  non  necessariis  sive  cre- 
tlitu  sive  factu  relinquatur  libertas.  At  non  minor 
est  controversia,  quae  sint  necessaria,  quarn  quae 
sint  vera.  Indicia,  aiunt,  sunt  in  scripturis.  At 
certe  etiam  circa  ilia  loca  variat  interpretatio. 
Quare  nondurn  video  an  quid  sit  melius,  quam  ea 
quas  ad  fitiem  et  bona  opera  nos  ducunt  retinere,  ut 
sunt  in  ecclesia  Catholica.;  puto  enirn  in  lis  esse 
quae  sunt  necessaria  ad  salutem.  In  csuteris  ea  quae 
conciliorum  auctoritate,  aut  veterum  consensu  re- 
cepta  sunt,  interpretan  eo  modo  quo  interpretati 
sunt  illi  qui  commodissime  sunt  locuti,quales  sem- 
per aliqui  in  quaque  materia  facile  reperientur.  Si 
quis  id  a  se  impetrare  non  possit,  ut  taceat,  nee 
propter  res  de  quibus  certus  non  est,  sed  opinatio- 
nem  tantum  quandam  habet,  turbet  unitatem  ec- 
clesise  necessariam,  quas  nisi  retinetur  ubi  est,  et 
restituitur  ubi  non  est,  omnia  ibunt  in  pejus,  p.  900 
(Nov.,  1643).  Wytenbogart  replied  very  well :  Si 
ita  se  res  habet,  ut  indicia  necessariorum  et  non 
necessariorum  in  scriptura  repenri  nequeant,  sed 
quaeri  debeant  in  auctoritate  conciliorum  aut  vete- 
rum consensn,  eo  modo  quo  interpretati  sunt  illi, 
qui  cotnmodissime  locuti  sunt,  prout  Excellentia 
tua  videtur  existimare,  nescio  an  viginti  quinque 
anni,  etiamsi  illi  mihi  adhuc  restarent,  omnesque 
exigui  ingenii  corporisque  inei  vires  in  mea  essent 
potestate,  sufficerent  ut  maturo  cum  judicio  perle- 
gam  et  expendam  omnia  quaa  eo  pertinent.  This 
letter  is  in  the  Epistolae  praestantiurn  et  eruditorum 
virorum  edited  by  Limborch  in  1683,  p.  826.  And 
Grotius's  answer  is  in  the  same  collection.  It  is 
that  of  a  man  who  throws  off  a  mask  he  had  re- 
luctantly worn.  There  was,  in  fact,  no  other 
means  of  repelling  Wytenbogart's  just  observation 
on  the  moral  impossibility  of  tracing  for  ourselves 
the  doctrine  of  the  Catholic  Church  as  an  historical 
inquiry.  Grotius  refers  him  to  a  visible  standard. 


Quare  considerandum  est,  an  non  faciliuset  aequius 
sit,  quoniam  doctrina  de  gratia,  de  libero  arbitrio, 
necessitate  fidei  bonorumque  operutn  obtinuit  in 
ecc'esia  qua  pro  se  habet  universale  regimen  et  or- 
dinem  successionis,  privacos  se  in  aliis  accommo- 
dare,  pacis  causa,  iis  qua)  universaliter  sunt  recep- 
ta,  sive  ea  aptissirnis  esplicationibus  recipiendo, 
sive  tacendo,  quam  corpus  illud  Catholicum  ec- 
clesiae  se  in  articulo  tolerantias  accommodare  de- 
bere  uniuscujusque  considerationibus  et  placitis. 
Exempli  gratia  :  Catholica  ecclesia  neinini  praescri- 
bit  ut  precetur  pro  mortuis,  aut  opern  precum  sanc- 
torunvvita  hac  defunctorum  imploret;  solurnmodo 
requirrt,  ne  quis  morern  adeo  antiquiim  et  genera- 
lem  condemnet.  The  church  does,  in  fact,  rather 
more  than  he  insinuates,  though  less  than  Protest- 
ants  generally  fancy. 

I  have  trespassed  on  the  patience  of  the  general 
reader  in  this  very  long  note,  which  may  be  thought 
a  superfluous  digression  in  a  work  of  mere  litera- 
ture. But  the  epistles  of  Grotius  are  not  much 
read,  nor  are  they  in  many  private  libraries.  The 
index  is  also  very  indifferent,  so  that  without  the 
trouble  I  have  taken  of  going  over  the  volume,  it 
might  be  difficult  to  rind  these  curious  passages.  I 
ought  to  mention  that  Burigny  has  given  references 
to  most  of  them,  but  with  few  quotations.  Lo 
Clerc,  in  the  first  volume  of  the  BibliothSque  Uni- 
verselle,  reviewing  the  epistles  of  Grotius,  slides 
very  gently  over  his  bias  towards  popery ;  and  I 
have  met  with  well-informed  persons  in  England 
who  had  no  conception  of  the  lengths  to  which  thid 
had  led  him.  It  is  of  far  more  importance,  and  the 
best  apology  I  can  offer  for  so  proiix  a  note,  to  per- 
ceive by  wtiat  gradual,  but,  as  I  think,  necessary 
steps,  he  was  drawn  onward  by  his  excessive  re- 
spect for  antiquity,  and  by  his  exaggerated  notions 
of  Catholic  unity,  preferring  at  last  to  err  with  the 
many  than  to  be  right  with  the  few.  If  Grotius 
had  learned  to  look  the  hydra  schism  in  the  face 
he  would  have  had  less  fear  of  its  many  heads,  and, 
at  least,  would  have  dreaded  to  cut  them  off  at  the 
neck,  lest  the  source  of  life  should  be  in  one  of 
them. 

That  Grotius  really  thought  as  the  fathers  of 
Trent  thought  upon  all  points  in  dispute,  cannot  be 
supposed.  It  was  not  in  the  power  of  a  man  of  his 
learning  and  thoughtfulness  to  divest  himself  of  his 
own  judgment,  unless  he  had  absolutely  subjugated 
his  reason  to  religious  awe,  which  was  far  from 
being  the  case.  His  aim  was  to  search  for  subtle 
interpretations,  by  which  he  might  profess  to  be- 
lieve the  words  of  the  church,  though  conscious 
that  his  sense  was  not  that  of  the  imposers.  It  is 
needless  to  say  that  this  is  not  very  ingenuous  ;  and 
even  if  it  could  be  justifiable  relatively  to  the  person, 
would  be  an  abandonment  of  the  multitude  to  any 
superstition  and  delusion  which  might  be  put  upon 
them.  Via  ad  pacem  expeditissima  mihi  videtur, 
si  doctrina,  communi  consensu  recepta,  commod^ 
explicetur,  mores,  sanae  doctrinae  adversantes,  quan- 
tum fieri  potest,  tollantur,  et  in  rebus  rnedus  ac- 
commodet  se  pars  ingenio  totius. —  Epist.  1524. 
Peace  was  his  main  object ;  if  toleration  had  been 
as  well  understood  as  it  was  afterward,  he  would, 
perhaps,  have  compromised  less. 

Baxter  having  published  a  treatise  of  the  Grotian 
Religion,  wherein  he  imputed  to  Grotius  this  incli- 
nation towards  the  Church  of  Rome,  Archbishop 
Bramhall  replied,  after  the  Restoration,  with  a  vin- 
dication of  Grotius,  in  which  he  does  not  say  much 
to  the  purpose,  and  seems  ignorant  of  the  case. 
The  epistles,  indeed,  were  not  then  published. 


FROM  1600  TO  1650. 


35 


in  everything  that  can  be  reckoned  essen- 
tial to  her  creed  ;  and,  in  fact,  he  will  be 
found  to  go  farther  in  this  direction  than 
Cassander. 

14.  But  if  any  one  could  put  a  different 
interpretation  on  these  works,  which  would 
require  a  large  measure  of  prejudice,  the 
epistles  of  Grotius  afford  such  evidence 
of  his  secession  from  the  Protestant  side 
as  no  reasonable  understanding  can  reject. 
These  are  contained  in  a  large  folio  vol- 
ume, published  in  1687,  and  amount  to 
17G6  of  one  series,  and  744  of  another,  I 
have  quoted  the  former,  for  distinction's 
sake,  by  the  number,  and  the  latter  by  the 
page.  Few,  we  may  presume,  have  taken 
the  pains  to  go  through  them,  in  order  to 
extract  all  the  passages  that  bear  upon 
this  subject.  It  will  be  found  that  he  be- 
gan, as  I  have  just  said,  by  extolling  the 
authority  of  the  Catholic  or  Universal 
Church,  and  its  exclusive  right  to  estab- 
lish creeds  of  faith.  He  some  time  after- 
ward ceased  to  frequent  the  Protestant 
worship,  but  long  kept  his  middle  path, 
and  thought  it  enough  to  inveigh  against 
the  Jesuits  and  the  exorbitances  of  the 
See  of  Rome.  But  his  reverence  for  the 
writers  of  the  fourth  and  fifth  centuries 
grew  continually  stronger ;  he  learned  to 
protest  against  the  privilege,  claimed  by 
the  reformers,  of  interpreting  Scripture 
otherwise  than  the  consent  of  the  an- 
cients had  warranted  ;  visions,  first  of  a 
union  between  the  Lutheran  and  English 
churches,  and  then  of  one  with  Rome  it- 
self, floated  before  his  eyes ;  he  sought 
religious  peace  with  the  latter, -as  men 
seek  it  in  opposition  to  civil  government, 
by  the  redress  of  grievances  and  the  sub- 
sequent restoration  of  obedience.  But  in 
proportion  as  he  perceived  how  little  of 
concession  was  to  be  obtained,  he  grew 
himself  more  ready  to  concede ;  and, 
though  at  one  time  he  seems  to  deny  the 
infallibility  of  the  Church,  and  at  another 
would  not  have  been  content  with  placing 
all  things  in  the  state  they  were  before 
the  Council  of  Trent,  he  came  ultimately 
to  think  such  a  favourable  sense  might  be 
put  on  all  the  Tridentine  decrees  as  to 
render  them  compatible  with  the  Confes- 
sion of  A  ugsburg. 

Besides  the  passages  in  these  epistles  above  quo- 
ted, the  reader  who  wishes  to  follow  this  up  may 
consult  Epist.  1108,  1460,  15C1,  1570,  1706  of  the 
first  series ;  and  in  the  second  series,  p.  875,  896, 
940,  943,  959, 9GO,  975.  But  there  are  also  many  to 
which  I  have  made  no  reference.  1  do  not  quote 
authorities  for  the  design  of  Grotius  to  have  de- 
dared  himself  a  convert  if  he  had  lived  to  return  to 
France,  though  they  are  easily  found  ;  because  the 
testimony  of  his  writings  is  far  stronger  than  any 
anecdote. 


15.  From  the  year  1640  his   course 
seems  to  have  been  accelerated;  he  inti- 
mates no  disapprobation  of  those  who 
went  over  to  Rome ;  he  found,  as  he  tells 
us,  that  whatever  was  generally  received 
in  the  Church  of  Rome  had  the  authority 
of  those  Greek  and  Latin  fathers  whose 
communion  no  one  would  have  refused; 
and  at  length,  in  a  remarkable  letter  to 
Wytenbogart,  bearing   date  in    1644,  he 
puts  it  as  worthy  to  be  considered,  wheth- 
er it  would  not  be  more  reasonable  for 
private  men,  who  find  the,  most  essential 
doctrines  in  a  church  of  a  universal  hie- 
rarchy  and  a  legitimate   succession,  to 
wave  their  differences  with  it  for  the  sake 
of  peace,  by  putting  the  best  interpreta- 
tions they  can,  only  keeping  silence  o^ 
their  own  opinions,  than  that  the  Catholic 
Church  should  accommodate  itself  to  the 
separate  judgment  of  such  men.     Grotius 
had  already  ceased  to  speak  of  the  Ar- 
minians  as  if  he  was  one  of  themselves 
though  with  much  respect  for  some  of 
their  leaders. 

16.  Upon  a  dispassionate  examination 
of  all  these  testimonies,  we  can  hardly 
deem  it  an  uncertain   question  whether 
Grotius,  if  his  life  had  been  prolonged, 
would  have  taken  the  easy  leap  that  still 
remained;  and  there  is  some  positive  evi- 
dence of  his  design  to  do  so.     But,  dying 
on  a  journey,  and  in'  a  Protestant  country, 
this  avowed  declaration  was  never  made. 
Fortunately,  indeed,  for  his  glory, 'since 
his  new  friends  would  speedily  have  put 
his  conversion  to  the  proof,  and  his  latter 
years  might  have  been  spent,  like  those 
of  Lipsius,  in  defending  legendary  mira- 
cles, or  in  waging  war  against  the  hon- 
oured dead  of  the  Reformation.     He  did 
not  sufficiently  remember  that  a  silent 
neutrality  is  never  indulged  to  a  suspi- 
cious proselyte. 

17.  It  appears  to  me,  nevertheless,  that 
Grotius  was  very  far  from  having  truly 

ubjected  his  understanding  to  the  Church 
of  Rome.  The  whole  bent  of  his  mind 
was  to  effect  an  exterior  union  among 
Christians ;  and  for  this  end  he  did  not 
tiesitate  to  recommend  equivocal  senses 
of  words,  convenient  explanations,  and 
respectful  silence.  Listening  attentively, 
if  I  may  be  allowed  such  a  metaphor,  we 
hear  the  chant  of  the  ^Esculapian  cock  in 
all  he  has  written  for  the  Catholic  Church. 
He  first  took  up  his  reverence  for  antiqui- 
ty, because  he  found  antiquity  unfavoura- 
ble to  the  doctrine  of  Calvin.  His  antipa- 
thy to  this  reformer  and  to  his  followers 
led  him  on  to  an  admiration  of  the  Epis- 
copal succession,  the  organized  hierarchy, 
the  ceremonial  and  liturgical  institutions. 


36 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


the  high  notions  of  sacramental  rites, 
which  he  found  in  the  ancient  Church,  and 
which  Luther  and  Zuingle  had  cast  away. 
He  became  imbued  with  the  notion  of 
unity  as  essential  to  the  Catholic  Church  ; 
but  he  never  seems  to  have  gone  the 
length  of  abandoning  his  own  judgment, 
or  of  asserting  any  positive  infallibility  to 
the  decrees  of  man.  For  it  is  manifest 
that,  if  the  Councils  of  Nice  or  of  Trent 
were  truly  inspired,  it  would  be  our  busi- 
ness to  inquire  what  they  meant  them- 
selves, not  to  put  the  most  convenient  in- 
terpretations, nor  to  search  out  for  some 
author  or  another  who  may  have  strained 
their  language  to  our  own  opinion.  The 
precedent  of  Grotius,  therefore,  will  not 
serve  those  who  endeavour  to  bind  the 
reason  of  the  enlightened  part  of  mankind, 
which  he  respected  like  his  own.  Two 
predominant  ideas  seem  to  have  swayed 
the  mind  of  this  great  man  in  the  very 
gradual  transition  we  have  indicated ;  one, 
his  extreme  reverence  for  antiquity,  and 
for  the  consent  of  the  Catholic  Church ; 
the  other,  his  Erastian  principles  as  to  the 
authority  of  the  civil  magistrate  in  mat- 
ters of  religion.  Both  conspired  to  give 
him  an  abhorrence  of  the  "  liberty  of 
prophesying,"  the  right  of  private  men  to 
promulgate  tenets  inconsistent  with  the 
established  faith.  In  friendly  conversa- 
tion or  correspondence,  even  perhaps, 
with  due  reserve,  in  Latin  writings,  much 
might  be  indulged  to  the  learned ;  room 
was  to  be  found  for  an  Erasmus  and  a 
Cassander  ;  or,  if  they  would  themselves 
consent,  for  an  Episcopius  and  a  Wyten- 
bogart,  at  least  for  a  Montagu  and  a  Laud  ; 
but  no  pretext  was  ever  to  justify  a  sep- 
aration. The  scheme  of  Grotius  is,  in  a 
modified  degree,  much  the  same  as  that 
of  Hobbes. 

18.  In  the  Lutheran  Church  we  find  an 
eminent  contemporary  of  Grotius, 
who  may  be  reckoned  his  counter- 
part in  the  motives  which  influenced  him 
to  seek  for  an  entire  union  of  religious 
parties,  though  resembling  him  far  more 
in  his  earlier  opinions  than  in  those  to 
which  he  ultimately  arrived.  This  was 
George  Calixtus,  of  the  University  of 
Helmstadt,  a  theologian  the  most  tolerant, 
mild,  and  catholic  in  his  spirit,  whom  the 
Confession  of  Augsburg  had  known  since 
Melanchthon.  This  University,  indeed, 
which  had  never  subscribed  the  Form  of 
Concord,  was  already  distinguished  by 
freedom  of  inquiry,  and  its  natural  con- 
comitant, a  large  and  liberal  spirit.  But 
in  his  own  church  generally,  Calixtus 
found  as  rigid  schemes  of  orthodoxy,  and 
perhaps  a  more  invidious  scrutiny  into  the 


recesses  of  private  opinion,  than  in  that 
of  Rome,  with  a  less  extensive  basis  of 
authority.  The  dream  of  good  men  in 
this  age,  the  reunion  of  Christian  church- 
es in  a  common  faith,  and,  meanwhile,  the 
tolerance  of  differences,  were  ever  the  aim 
of  Calixtus.  But  he  fell,  like  the  Angli- 
can divines,  into  high  notions  of  primitive 
tradition,  placing,  according  to  Eichhorn 
and  Mosheim,  the  unanimity  of  the  first 
six  centuries  by  the  side  of  Scripture  it- 
self. He  was  assailed  by  the  adherents 
of  the  Form  of  Concord  with  aggravated 
virulence  and  vulgarity  ;  he  was  accused 
of  being  a  papist  and  a  Calvinist ;  reproach- 
es equally  odious  in  their  eyes,  and  there- 
fore fit  to  be  heaped  on  his  head ;  the  in- 
consistency of  calumnies  being  no  good 
reason  with  bigots  against  uttering  them.* 
19.  In  a  treatise,  published  long  after 
his  death,  in  1697,  De  tolerantia  msattempts 
Reformatorum  circa  quaestiones  at  concord, 
inter  ipsos  et  Augustanam  confessionem 
professos  controversas  consultatio,  it  is 
his  object  to  prove  that  the  Calvinists 
held  no  such  tenets  as  should  exclude 
them  from  Christian  communion.  He 
does  not  deny  or  extenuate  the  reality  of 
their  differences  from  the  Confession  of 
Augsburg.  The  Lutherans,  though  many 
of  them,  he  says,  had  formerly  maintained 
the  absolute  decrees  of  predestination, 
were  now  come  round  to  the  doctrine  of 
the  first  four  centuries. f  And  he  admits 
that  the  Calvinists,  whatever  phrases  they 
may  use,  do  not  believe  a  true  and  sub- 
stantial presence  in  the  Eucharist. J  But 

*  Eichhorn,  vol.  vi.,  part  ii.,  p.  20.  Mosheim. 
Biogr.  Univ. 

t  Nostri  e  quibus  olim  multi  ibidem  absolutum 
decretum  approbarunt,  paulatim  ad  sententiam  pri- 
morum  quatuor  saeculorum,  nempe  decretum  juxta 
prascientiam  factum,  receperunt.  Qua  in  re  mul- 
tutn  egregie  laboravit  ^Egidius  Hunnius.  Difficile 
autem  est  hanc  sententiarn  it  a  proponere,  ne  quid 
Pelagianismo  habere  affine  videatur,  p.  14. 

J  Si  tamen  non  tam  quid  loquantur  quam  quid 
sentiarit  attendimus,  cerium  est  eos  veri  corporis  et 
sanguinis  secundum  substandard  acceptorum  prae- 
sentiam  non  admittere.  Rectius  autem  fuerit 
utramque  partem  simpliciter  et  ingenue,  quod  sen- 
tit,  profited,  quam  alteram  alteri  ambiguis  loquendi 
formulis  imponere.  Qualem  conciliandi  rationem 
inierunt  olim  Philippus  et  Bucerus,  nempe  ut  prae- 
scriberentur  formulas,  quarum  verba  utraque  pars 
amplecteretur,  sed  singular  suo  sensu  acciperent  ac 
interpretarentur.  Quern  conatum,  quamyis  ex  pio 
eoque  ingente  concordiae  desiderio  et  studio  profec- 
tum,  nulla  successes  felicitas  excepit,  p.  70.  This 
observation  is  very  just  in  the  abstract;  but  in  the 
early  period  of  the  Reformation,  there  were  strong 
reasons  for  evading  points  of  difference,  in  the  hope 
that  truth  would  silently  prevail  in  the  course  of 
time.  We,  however,  who  come  later,  are  to  follow 
the  advice  of  Calixtus  ;  and  in  judging,  as  well  as 
we  can,  of  the  opinions  of  men,  must  not  altogethe 
regard  their  words.  Upon  no  theological  contro 
versy,  probably,  has  there  been  so  much  of  studied 


FROM  1GOO  TO  1650. 


neither  of  these  errors,  if  such  they  are, 
he  takes  to  be  fundamental.  In  a  shorter 
and  more  valuable  treatise,  entitled  Desi- 
derium  et  studium  concordiae  ecclesiasti- 
cs, Calixtus  proposes  some  excellent  rules 
for  allaying  religious  heats.  But  he  leans 
far  too  much  towards  the  authority  of  tra- 
dition. Every  church,  he  says,  which  af- 
firms what  others  deny,  is  bound  to  prove 
its  affirmation  ;  first  by  Scripture,  in  which 
whatever  is  contained  must  be  out  of  con- 
troversy ;  and,  secondly  (as  Scripture  bears 
witness  to  the  Church  that  it  is  the  piHar 
and  foundation  of  truth,  and  especially  the 
primitive  Church,  which  is  called  that  of 
the  saints  and  martyrs),  by  the  unanimous 
consent  of  the  ancient  Church,  above  all, 
where  the  debate  is  among  learned  men. 
The  agreement  of  the  Church  is  therefore 
a  sufficient  evidence  of  Christian  doctrine, 
not  that  of  individual  writers,  who  are  to 
be  regarded  rather  so  far  as  they  testify 
the  Catholic  doctrine  than  as  they  pro- 
pound their  own.*  This  deference  to  an 
imaginary  perfection  in  the  Church  of  the 
fourth  or  fifth  century  must  have  given  a 
great  advantage  to  that  of  Rome,  which  is 
not  always  weak  on  such  ground,  and 
doubtless  serves  to  account  for  those  fre- 
quent desertions  to  her  banner,  especially 
in  persons  of  very  high  rank,  which  after- 
ward occurred  in  Germany. 

20.  The  tenets  of  some  of  those  who 
High-church  have  been  called  High-church 
party  in  Eng-  Anglicans  may  in  themselves 
be  little  different  from  those  of 
Grotius  and  Calixtus.  But  the  spirit  in 
which  they  have  been  conceived  is  alto- 
gether opposite.  The  one  is  exclusive, 
intolerant,  severe,  dogmatical,  insisting  on 
uniformity  of  faith  as  well  as  of  exterior 


ambiguity  as  on  that  of  the  Eucharist.  Calixtus 
passes  a  similar  censure  on  the  equivocations  of 
some  great  men  of  the  preceding  century  in  his  oth- 
er treatise  mentioned  in  the  text. 

*  Consensu  itaque  primae  ecclesiae  ex  symbolis  et 
scriptis  manifesto  doctrina  Christiana  rectfe  confir- 
matur.  Intelligimus  autem  doctrinam  fundamenta- 
lem  et  necessariam.  non  quasvis  appendices  et  qua?s- 
tiones,  aut  etiam  quorundam  scripturae  locorum  in- 
terpretationes.  De  talibus  enim  unanimis  et  uni- 
versalis  consensus  non  poterit  erui  vel  proferri.  Et 
magis  apud  plerosque  spectandum  est,  quid  tanquam 
communem  ecclesiae  sententiam  proponunt,  quam 
quomodo  earn  confirmant  aut  demonstrant,  p.  85. 
I  have  not  observed,  in  the  little  I  know  of  Calix- 
tus, any  proof  of  his  inclination  towards  the  Church 
of  Rome. 

Gerard  Vossius,  as  Episcopius  wrote  to  Vorstius 
in  1615,  declared,  in  his  inaugural  lecture  as  pro- 
fessor of  theology,  his  determination  to  follow  the 
consent  of  antiquity,  in  explicatione  Scripturarnm 
et  controversiarum  diremtionibus  diligenter  exarni- 
nare  et  expendere  Catholicum  et  aniiquissimum 
consensum,  cum  sine  dubio  illud  quod  a  plurihus 
et  antiquissimis  dictum  est,  verissimum  sit. — Epist. 
Viroi  \m  praestantium,  p.  6. 


observances;  the  other,  catholic  in  out- 
ward profession,  charitable  in  sentiment, 
and,  in  fact,  one  mode,  though  a  mode  as 
imprudent  as  it  was  oblique,  in  which  the 
latitudinarian  principle  was  manifested. 
The  language  both  of  Grotius  and  Calix- 
tus bears  this  out ;  and  this  ought  closely 
to  be  observed,  les,t  we  confound  the  real 
laxity  of  one  school  with  the  rigid  ortho- 
doxy of  the  other.  One  had  it  in  view  to 
reconcile  discordant  communions  by  mu- 
tual concession,  and  either  by  such  expli- 
cation of  contrarieties  as  might  make  them 
appear  less  incompatible  with  outward 
unity,  or  by  an  avowed  tolerance  of  their 
profession  within  the  Church;  the  other 
would  permit  nothing  but  submission  to 
its  own  authority  ;  it  loved  to  multiply 
rather  than  to  extinguish  the  risks  of  dis- 
sent, in  order  to  crush  it  more  effectually ; 
the  one  was  a  pacific  negotiator,  the  oth- 
er a  conquering  tyrant. 

21.  It  was  justly  alarming  to  sincere 
Protestants  that  so  many  brill-  Da,i16  on  the 
iant  ornaments  of  their  party  right  use  of 
should  either  desert  to  the  hos-  the  fathers- 
tile  side,  or  do  their  own  so  much  injury 
by  taking  up  untenable  ground.*  Nothing, 
it  appeared  to  reflecting  men,  could  be 
trusted  to  the  argument  from  antiquity ; 
whatever  was  gained  in  the  controversy 
on  a  few  points  was  lost  upon  those  of 
the  first  importance.  It  was  become  the 
only  secure  course  to  overthrow  the  tri- 
bunal. Daille,  himself  one  of  the  most 
learned  in  this  patristic  erudition  whom 
the  French  Reformed  Church  possessed, 
was  the  first  who  boldly  attacked  the  new 
school  of  historical  theology  in  their  own 
stronghold,  not  occupying  their  fortress, 
but  razing  it  to  the  ground.  The  design 
of  his  celebrated  Treatise  concerning  the 
right  use  of  the  Fathers,  published  in  1628, 
is,  in  his  own  words,  to  show  "  that  they 
cannot  be  the  judges  of  the  controversies 
in  religion  at  this  day  between  the  Papist 
and  the  Protestant,"  nor,  by  parity  of  rea- 


*  It  was  a  poor  consolation  for  so  many  losses, 
that  the  famous  Antonio  de  Dominis,  archbishop 
of  Saoleto,  came  over  to  England,  and  by  his  books 
de  RepublicaEcclesiastica.aswellas  by  his  conver- 
sation, seemed  an  undisguised  enemy  to  the  Church 
of  Rome.  The  object  of  his  work  is  to  prove  that  the 
pope  has  no  superiority  over  other  bishops.  James 
gave  De  Dominis  the  deanery  of  Windsor  and  a  liv- 
ing ;  but  whether  he,  strictly  speaking,  belonged  to 
the  Church  of  England,  I  do  not  remember  to  have 
read.  Preferments  were  bestowed  irregularly  in 
that  age  He  returned,  however,  to  the  ancient 
fold  ;  but  did  not  avoid  suspicion,  being  thrown 
into  prison  at  Rome  ;  and  after  his  death,  the  im- 
putations of  heresy  against  him  so  much  increased 
that  his  body  was  dug  up  and  burned.  Neither 
party  has  been  ambitious  to  claim  this  vain  and 
insincere,  though  clever  prelate. 


38 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


soning,  of  many  others;  "  1.  Because  it 
is,  if  not  an  impossible,  yet  at  least  a 
very  difficult  thing  to  find  out  what  their 
sense  hath  been  touching  the  same.  2. 
Because  that  their  sense  and  judgment  of 
these  things,  supposing  it  to  be  certainly 
and  clearly  understood,  not  being  infalli- 
ble, and  without  all  danger  of  error,  can- 
not carry  with  it  a  sufficient  authority  for 
the  satisfying  the  understanding." 

22.  The  arguments  adduced  by  Daille 
in  support  of  the  former  of  these  two  po- 
sitions, and  which  occupy  the  first  book 
of  the  treatise,  are  drawn  from  the  pauci- 
ty of  the   early  Christian  writers ;  from 
the  nature  of  the  subjects  treated  by  them, 
having  little  relation  to  the  present  con- 
troversies ;  from  the  suspicions  of  forgery 
and  interpolation  affecting  many  of  their 
works ;  the  difficulty  of  understanding  their 
idioms  and  figurative  expressions ;  the  hab- 
it of  some  of  the  fathers  to  say  what  they 
did  not  believe  ;  their  changes  of  mind ;  the 
peculiar  and  individual  opinions  of  some 
among  them,  affording  little  evidence  of 
the  doctrine  of  the  Church ;   finally,  the 
probability  that  many  who  differed  from 
those  called  the  Fathers,  and  whose  wri- 
tings have  not  descended  to  us,  may  have 
been  of  as  good  authority  as  themselves. 

23.  In  the  second  book,  which,  in  fact, 
has  been  very  much   anticipated  in  the 
first,  he  shows  that  neither  the  testimony 
nor  the  doctrine  of  the  fathers  is  infallible 
(by  which  word  he  must  be  understood  to 
mean  that  it  raises  but  a  slight  presump- 
tion of  truth),  proving  this  by  their  errors 
and  contradictions.     Thus  he  concludes 
that,  though  their  negative   authority  is 
considerable,  since  they  cannot  be  pre- 
sumed ignorant  of  any  material  doctrine 
of  religion,  we   are  to  be  very  slow  in 
drawing    affirmative    propositions    from 
their  writings,  and  much  more  so  in  rely- 
ing upon  them  as  undoubted  verities. 

24.  It  has  been  said  of  this  treatise  on 
the  right  use  of  the  fathers,  that  its  author 
had  pretty  well  proved  they  were  of  no 
use  at  all.     This,  indeed,  is  by  no  means 
the  case  ;  but  it  has  certainly  diminished 
not  only  the  deference  which  many  have 
been  wont  to  pay  to  the   opinion  of  the 
primitive  writers,  but,  what  is  still  more 
contended  for,  the  value  of  their  testimo- 
ny, whether  as  to  matters  of  fact  or  as  to 
the  prevailing  doctrines  of  the  Christian 
Church.      Nothing  can  be  more  certain, 
though  in  the  warmth  of  controversy  men 
are  apt  to  disregard  it,  than  that  a  witness, 
who  deposes  in  any  one  case  what  can  be 
disproved,  is  not  entitled  to  belief  in  other 
assertions  which  we  have  no  means  of 
confuting,  unless  it  be  shown  that  the  cir- 


!  cumstances  of  his  evidence  render  it  more 
I  trustworthy  in  these  points  than  we  have 
found  it  before.  Hence  such  writers  as 
Justin  and  Irenaeus  ought  not,  except  with 
great  precaution,  to  be  quoted  in  proof  at 
all,  or,  at  least,  with  confidence ;  their 
falsehood,  not  probably  wilful,  in  asser- 
tions that  have  been  brought  to  a  test,  ren- 
dering their  testimony  very  precarious 
upon  any  other  points.  Daille,  it  may  be 
added,  uses  some  circumspection,  as  the 
times,  if  not  his  own  disposition,  required 
in -handling  this  subject,  keeping  chiefly 
in  view  the  controversies  between  the 
Romish  and  Protestant  churches ;  nor 
does  he  ever  indulge  in  that  tone  of  banter 
or  acrimony  which  we  find  in  Whitby, 
Barbeyrac,  Jortin,  and  Middleton ;  and 
which  must  be  condemned  by  every  one 
who  reflects  that  many  of  these  writers 
exposed  their  lives,  and  some  actually  lost 
them,  in  the  maintenance  and  propagation 
of  Christianity. 

25.  This  well-timed  and  important  book 

met  with  a  good  reception  from  „ 

•    d  J5     j  .IT.       u  -i        ^  chiihng- 
some  m  England,  though  it  must  worth's 

have  been  very  uncongenial  to  Religion  of 
the  ruling  party.  It  was  extol-  Prote 
led  and  partly  translated  by  Lord  Falk- 
land ;  and  his  two  distinguished  friends, 
Chillingworth  and  Hales,  found  in  it  the 
materials  of  their  own  bold  revolt  against 
church  authority.  They  were  both  Ar- 
minians,  and,  especially  the  former,  averse 
in  all  respects  to  the  Puritan  school.  But, 
like  Episeopius,  they  scorned  to  rely,  as 
on  these  points  they  might  have  done,  on 
what  they  deemed  so  precarious  and  in- 
conclusive as  the  sentiments  of  the  fathers. 
Chillingworth,  as  is  well  known,  had  been 
induced  to  embrace  the  Romish  religion, 
on  the  usual  ground  that  a  succession  of 
infallible  pastors,  that  is,  a  collective  hie- 
rarchy, by  adhering  to  whom  alone  we 
could  be  secure  from  error,  was  to  be  found 
in  that  church.  He  returned  again  to  the 
Protestant  religion  on  being  convinced 
that  no  such  infallible  society  could  be 
found.  And  a  Jesuit,  by  name  Knott,  hav- 
ing written  a  book  to  prove  that  unrepent- 
ing  Protestants  could  not  be  saved,  Chil- 
lingworth published,  in  1637,  his  famous 
answer,  The  Religion  of  Protestants  a  safe 
Way  to  Salvation.  In  this  he  closely 
tracks  the  steps  of  his  adversary,  replying 
to  every  paragraph  and  almost  every  sen- 
tence. 

26.  Knott  is  by  no  means  a  despicable 
writer  ;  he  is  concise,  polished,  character 
and  places  in  an  advantageous  of  tins  work, 
light  the  great  leading  arguments  of  his 
church.     Chillingworth,  with  a  more  dif- 
fuse and  less  elegant  style,  is  greatly  su- 


FROM  1600  TO  1C50. 


perior  in  impetuosity  and  warmth.  In  his 
long  parenthetical  periods,  as  in  those  of 
other  old  English  writers  ;  in  his  copious- 
ness, which  is  never  empty  or  tautologi- 
cal, there  is  an  inartificial  elegance,  spring- 
ing from  strength  of  intellect  and  sincer- 
ity of  feeling,  that  cannot  fail  to  impress 
the  reader.  But  his  chief  excellence  is 
the  close  reasoning,  which  avoids  every 
dangerous  admission,  and  yields  to  no  am- 
biguousness  of  language.  He  perceived 
and  maintained  with  great  courage,  con- 
sidering the  times  in  which  he  wrote  and 
the  temper  of  those  he  was  not  unwilling 
to  keep  as  friends,  his  favourite  tenet,  that 
all  things  necessary  to  be  believed  are 
clearly  laid  down  in  Scripture.  Of  tradi- 
tion, which  many  of  his  contemporary 
Protestants  were  becoming  as  prone  to 
magnify  as  their  opponents,  he  spoke  very 
slightingly ;  not  denying,  of  course,  a  max- 
im often  quoted  from  Vincentius  Lirinen- 
sis,  that  a  tradition  strictly  universal  and 
aboriginal  must  be  founded  in  truth,  but 
being  assured  that  no  such  could  be 
shown  ;  and  that  what  came  nearest,  both 
in  antiquity  and  in  evidence  of  Catholic 
reception,  to  the  name  of  apostolical,  were 
doctrines  and  usages  rejected  alike  by  all 
denominations  of  the  Church  in  modern 
times.*  It  will  be  readily  conceived  that 
his  method  of  dealing  with  the  controver- 
sy is  very  different  from  that  of  Laud  in 
his  treatise  against  Fisher;  wherein  we 
meet  chiefly  with  disputes  on  passages  in 
the  fathers,  as  to  which,  especially  when 
they  are  not  quoted  at  length,  it  is  impossi- 
ble that  any  reader  can  determine  for  him- 
self. The  work  of  Chillingworth  may  at 
least  be  understood  and  appreciated  vvith- 

*  If  there  were  anything  unwritten  which  had 
come  down  to  us  with  as  full  and  universal  a  tra- 
dition as  the  unquestioned  books  of  canonical  Scrip- 
ture, that  thing  should  I  believe  as  well  as  the 
Scripture  ;  but  I  have  long  sought  for  some  such 
thing,  and  yet  I  am  to  seek;  nay,  I  am  confident  no 
one  point  in  controversy  between  papists  and  Prot- 
estants can  go  in  upon  half  so  fair  cards,  for  to  gain 
the  esteem  of  an  apostolic  tradition,  as  those  things 
which  are  now  decried  on  all  hands ;  I  mean  the 
opinion  of  the  Chiliasts  and  the  communicating 
infants."— Chap,  iii.,  §  82.  He  dilates  upon  this 
insecurity  of  tradition  in  some  detached  papers, 
subjoined  to  the  best  editions  of  his  work.  Chil- 
lingworth might  have  added  an  instance  if  he  had 
been  writing  against  Romanizing  Anglicans.  No- 
thing can  come  so  close  to  the  foolish  rule  above 
mentioned  as  the  observation  of  celibacy  by  bish- 
ops and  priests,  not  being  married  before  their  ordi- 
nation, which,  till  the  time  of  Luthpr,  was,  as  far 
as  we  have  reason  to  believe,  universally  enjoined 
in  the  Church  ;  no  one,  at  least,  has  ever  alleged 
an  instance  or  authority  to  the  contrary.  Yet  those 
who  talk  most  of  the  rule  of  Vincentius  Lirinensis 
eet  aside  without  compunction  the  only  case  in 
which  we  can  truly  say  that  it  may  with  some  show 
of  probability  be  applied.  Oinnia  vincit  amor. 


out  reference  to  any  other ;  the  condition, 
perhaps,  of  real  superiority  in  all  produc- 
tions of  the  mind. 

27.  Chillhigworth  was,  however,  a  man 
versed  in  patristical  learning,  by  no  means 
less  so,  probably,  than  Laud.  But  he  had 
found  so  much  uncertainty  about  this 
course  of  theological  doctrine,  seducing 
as  it  generally  is  to  the  learned,  "  fathers." 
as  he  expresses  it,  "  being  set  against  fa- 
thers, and  councils  against  councils,"  that 
he  declares,  in  a  well-known  passage,  the 
Bible  exclusively  to  be  the  religion  of 
Protestants ;  and  each  man's  own  rea- 
son to  be,  as  from  the  general  tenour  of 
his  volume  it  appears  that  he  held  it,  the 
interpreter  of  the  Bible.*  It  was  a  natu- 
ral consequence  that  he  was  a  strenuous 
advocate,  not  so  much  for  toleration  of 
separate  churches,  as  for  such  an  "  order- 
ing of  the  public  service  of  God,  that  all 
who  believe  the  Scripture,  and  live  ac- 
cording to  it,  might,  without  scruple,  or 
hypocrisy,  or  protestation  against  any 
part,  join  in  it  ;"f  a  scheme,  when  practica- 
ble, as  it  could  not  possibly  be  often  ren- 
dered, far  more  eligible  than  the  separa- 
tion of  sects,  and  hence  the  favourite  ob- 
ject of  Grotius  and  Taylor,  as  well  as  of 
Erasmus  and  Cassander.  And  in  a  re- 
markable and  eloquent  passage,  Chilling- 
worth  declares  that  "  Protestants  are  in- 
excusable if  they  did  offer  violence  to 
other  men's  consciences  ;"  which  Knott 
had  said  to  be  notorious,  as,  in  fact,  it  was, 
and  as  Chillingworth  ought  more  explicit- 
ly to  have  admitted. |  "  Certainly,"  he  ob- 
serves in  another  place,  "  if  Protestants 
are  faulty  in  this  matter  [of  claiming  au- 
thority], it  is  for  doing  it  too  much  and 
not  too  little.  This  presumptuous  impo- 
sing of  the  senses  of  men  upon  the  words 
of  God,  the  special  senses  of  men  upon 
the  general  words  of  God,  and  laying  them 
upon  men's  consciences  together,  under 
the  equal  penalty  of  death  and  damnation  ; 
this  vain  conceit  that  we  can  speak  of  the 
things  of  God  better  than  in  the  words  of 
God ;  this  deifying  our  own  interpreta- 
tions and  tyrannous  enforcing  them  upon 
others ;  this  restraining  of  the  word  of 


*  This  must  always  be  understood  with  the  con- 
dition that  the  reason  itself  shall  be  competently 
enlightened :  if  Chillingworth  meant  more  than 
this,  he  carried  his  principle  too  far,  as  others  have 
done.  The  case  is  parallel  in  jurisprudence,  med- 
icine, mechanics,  and  every  human  science:  any 
one  man,  prima  facie,  maybe  a  competent  judge, 
but  all  men  are  not  so.  It  is  hard  to  prove  that 
there  is  any  different  rule  for  theology ;  but  parties 
will  always  contend  for  extremes  ;  for  the  rights  of 
bigots  to  think  for  others,  and  the  rights  of  fools  to 
think  for  themselves. 

t  Chap,  iii.,  $  81.  }  Chap,  v.,  $  96. 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


God  from  that  latitude  and  generality,  and 
the  understandings  of  men  from  that  lib- 
erty wherein  Christ  and  the  apostles  left 
them,  is  and  hath  been  the  only  fountain 
of  all  the  schisms  of  the  Church,  and  that 
which  makes  them  immortal  ;*  the  com- 
mon incendiary  of  Christendom,  and  that 
which  tears  in  pieces,  not  the  coat,  but  the 
bowels  and  members  of  Christ.  Take 
away  these  walls  of  separation,  and  all 
will  quickly  be  one.  Take  away  this  per- 
secuting, burning,  cursing,  damning  of 
men  for  not  subscribing  the  words  of  men 
as  the  words  of  God ;  require  of  Chris- 
tians only  to  believe  Christ,  and  to  call  no 
man  master  but  him  only ;  let  those  leave 
claiming  infallibility  that  have  no  title  to 
it,  and  let  them  that  in  their  words  dis- 
claim it,  disclaim  it  also  in  their  actions. 
In  a  word,  take  away  tyranny,"  &c.f 

28.  It  is  obvious  that  in  this  passage, 
and,  indeed, 'throughout  the  volume,  Chil- 
lingworth  contravenes  the  prevailing  theo- 
ries of  the  Anglican  Church  full  as  dis- 
tinctly as  those  of  the  Roman.    He  esca- 
ped, however,  unscathed  by  the  censure  of 
that  jealous  hierarchy ;  his  private  friend- 
ship with  Laud,  the  lustre  of  his  name, 
the  absence  of  factious  and  sectarian  con- 
nexions, and  still  more,  perhaps,  the  rapid 
gatherings  of  the  storms  that  swept  both 
parties  away,  may  be  assigned  as  his  pro- 
tection.    In  later  times  his  book  obtained 
a  high  reputation ;  he  was  called  the  im- 
mortal Chillingworth ;  he  was  the  favourite 
of  all  the  moderate  and  the  latitudinarian 
writers  ;  of  Tillotson,  Locke,  and  Warbur- 
ton.   Those  of  opposite  tenets,  when  they 
happen  to  have  read  his  book,  can  do  no- 
thing else  but  condemn  its  tendency. 

29.  A  still  more  intrepid  champion  in 
Hales  on  the  same  cause  was  John  Hales ; 
Schism,    for  his  little  tract  on  Schism,  not 
being  in  any  part  directed  against  the 
Church  of  Rome,  could  have  nothing  to 
redeem  the  strong  protestations  against 
church  authority,  "  which,"  as  he  bluntly 
expresses  it,  "  is  none ;"  words  that  he 
afterward  slightly  qualified.     The  aim  of 
Hales,  as  well  as   of  Grotius,  Calixtus, 
and  Chillingworth,  was  to  bring  about  a 
more  comprehensive  communion  ;  but  he 
went  still  farther;  his  language  is  rough 
and  audacious  ;|  his  theology  in  some  of 


*  "  This  persuasion,"  he  says  in  a  note,  "  is  no 
singularity  of  mine,  but  the  doctrine  which  I  have 
learned  from  divines  of  great  learning  and  judg- 
ment. Let  the  reader  be  pleased  to  peruse  the 
7th  book  of  Acontius  de  Stratagematibus  Satanas, 
and  Zanchius  his  last  oration  delivered  by  him  af- 
ter the  composing  of  the  discord  between  him  and 
Amerbachius,  and  he  shall  confess  as  much." 

t  Chap,  iv.,  <)  17. 

+  •'  I  must,  for  my  own  part,  confess  that  councils 


his  other  writings  has  a  scent  of  Racow 
and,  though  these  crept  slowly  to  light, 
there  was  enough  in  the  earliest  to  make 
us  wonder  at  the  high  name,  the  epithet 
Ever-memorable,  which  hfc  obtained  in  the 
English  Church. 

30.  It  is  unnecessary  to  say  that  few 
disputes  in  theology  have  been  contmver- 
so    eagerly    conducted    or    so  sies  °"  §race 

.       ,  -a     i  .,  and  free-will. 

extensively  ramified  as  those  Augustinian 
which  relate  to  the  free-will  of  scheme. 
man,  and  his  capacity  of  turning  himself 
towards  God.  In  this  place  nothing  more 
will  be  expected  than  a  brief  statement  of 
the  principal  question,  doing  no  injustice 
by  a  tone  of  partiality  to  either  side.  All 
shades  of  opinion,  as  it  seems,  may  be 
reduced  to  two,  which  have  long  divided 
and  will  long  divide  the  Christian  world. 
According  to  one  of  these,  the  corrupt 
nature  of  man  is  incapable  of  exerting  any 
power  towards  a  state  of  acceptance  with 
God,  or  even  of  willing  it  with  an  earnest 
desire,  until  excited  by  preventing  (prae- 
veniens)  grace ;  which  grace  is  vouch- 
safed to  some  only,  and  is  called  free,  be- 
cause God  is  not  limited  by  any  respect 
of  those  persons  to  whom  he  accords  this 
gift.  Whether  those  who  are  thus  called 
by  the  influence  of  the  Spirit  are  so  irre- 
sistibly impelled  to  it  that  their  perseve- 
rance in  the  faith  and  good  works,  which 


and  synods  not  only  may  and  have  erred,  but,  con- 
sidering the  means  how  they  are  managed,  it  were 
a  great  marvel  if  they  did  not  err ;  for  what  men  are 
they  of  whom  those  great  meetings  do  consist? 
Are  they  the  best,  the  most  learned,  the  most  vir- 
tuous, the  most  likely  to  walk  uprightly?  No,  the 
greatest,  the  most  ambitious,  and  many  times  men 
of  neither  judgment  nor  learning ;  such  are  they 
of  whom  these  bodies  do  consist.  Are  these  men, 
in  common  equity,  likely  to  determine  for  truth?" — 
Vol.  i.,p.  60,  edit.  1765. 

"  Universality  is  such  a  proof  of  truth  as  truth 
itself  is  ashamed  of;  for  universality  is  but  a 
quainter  and  a  trimmer  name  to  signify  the  multi- 
tude. Now  human  authority  at  the  strongest  is 
but  weak,  but  the  multitude  is  the  weakest  part  of 
human  authority ;  it  is  the  great  patron  of  error, 
most  easily  abused  and  most  hardly  disabused.  The 
beginning  of  error  may  be  and  mostly  is  from  pri- 
vate persons,  but  the  maintainer  and  continuer  of 
error  is  the  multitude.  Private  persons  first  beget 
errors  in  the  multitude  and  make  them  public  ;  and 
publicness  of  them  begets  them  again  in  private 
persons.  It  is  a  thing  which  our  common  experi- 
ence and  practice  acquaints  us  with,  that,  when 
some  private  persons  have  gained  authority  with 
the  multitude,  and  infused  some  error  into  them 
and  made  it  public,  the  publicness  of  the  error 
gains  authority  to  it,  and  interchangeably  prevails 
with  private  persons  to  entertain  it.  The  most 
singular  and  strongest  part  of  human  authority  is 
prouerly  in  the  wisest  and  most  virtuous ;  and 
these,  I  trow,  are  not  the  most  universal,"  iii.,  161. 

The  treatise  on  Schism,  from  which  these  last 
passages  are  not  extracted,  was  printed  at  Oxford 
in  1642,  with  some  animadversio' *  by  the  editor. — 
Wood's  Athena;,  iii.,  414. 


FROM  1600  TO  1650. 


41 


are  the  fruits  of  their  election,  may  surely 
be  relied  upon,  or,  on  the  other  hand,  may 
either,  at  first,  obdurately  resist  the  divine 
impulses,  or  finally  swerve  from  their 
state  of  grace,  is  another  question  upon 
which  those  who  agree  in  the  principal 
doctrine  have  been  at  variance.  It  is  also 
controverted  among  those  who  belong  to 
this  class  of  theologians,  whether  the  elec- 
tion thus  freely  made  out  of  mankind  de- 
pends upon  an  eternal  decree  of  predesti- 
nation, or  upon  a  sentence  of  God  follow- 
ing the  fall  of  man.  And  a  third  difference 
relates  to  the  condition  of  man  after  he 
has  been  aroused  by  the  Spirit  from  a 
state  of  entire  alienation  from  God ;  some 
holding  that  the  completion  as  well  as 
commencement  of  the  work  of  conversion 
is  wholly  owing  to  the  divine  influence, 
while  others  maintain  a  co-operation  of 
the  will,  so  that  the  salvation  of  a  sinner 
may,  in  some  degree,  be  ascribed  to  him- 
self. But  the  essential  principle  of  all 
whom  we  reckon  in  this  category  of  di- 
vines is  the  necessity  of  preventing  grace, 
or,  in  other  words,  that  it  is  not  in  the 
power  of  man  to  do  any  act,  in  the  first 
instance,  towards  his  own  salvation.  This, 
in  some  or  other  of  its  modifications,  used 
to  be  deemed  the  orthodox  scheme  of 
doctrine  ;  it  was  established  in  the  Latin 
Church  by  the  influence  of  Augustin ;  it 
was  generally  held  by  the  schoolmen,  by 
most  of  the  early  reformers,  and  seems 
to  be  inculcated  by  the  decrees  of  the 
Council  of  Trent,  as  much  as  by  the  arti- 
cles of  the  Church  of  England.  In  a  loose 
and  modern  acceptation  of  the  word,  it 
often  goes  by  the  name  of  Calvinism, 
which  may,  perhaps,  be  less  improper,  if 
we  do  not  use  the  term  in  an  exclusive 
sense ;  but,  if  it  is  meant  to  imply  a  par- 
ticular relation  to  Calvin,  leads  to  contro- 
versial chicane,  and  a  misstatement  of 
the  historical  part  of  the  question. 

31.  An  opposite  class  of  theological 
Semi-pcia-  rcasoners  belong  to  what  is  some- 
gian  hy-  times  called  the  Semi-pelagian 
poihesis.  school.  These  concur  with  the 
former  in  the  necessity  of  assistance  from 
the  Spirit  to  the  endeavours  of  man  to- 
wards subduing  his  evil  tendencies,  and 
renewing  his  heart  in  the  fear  and  love  of 
God,  but  conceive  that  every  sinner  is 
capable  of  seeking  this  assistance,  which 
will  not  be  refused  him,  and,  consequently, 
of  beginning  the  work  of  conversion  by 
his  own  will.  They  therefore  either  deny 
the  necessity  of  preventing  grace,  except 
such  as  is  exterior,  or,  which  comes  ef- 
fectively to  the  same  thing,  assert  that  it 
is  accorded  in  a  sufficient  measure  to 
every  one  within  the  Christian  Church, 

VOL.  II.— F 


whether  at  the  time  of  baptism,  or  by 
some  other  means.  They  think  the  op- 
posite opinion,  whether  founded  on  the 
hypothesis  of  an  eternal  decree  or  not, 
irreconcilable  with  the  moral  attributes 
of  the  Deity,  and  inconsistent  with  the 
general  tenour  of  Scripture.  The  Semi- 
pelagian  doctrine  is  commonly  admitted  to 
have  been  held  by  the  Greek  fathers  ;  but 
the  authority  of  Augustin  and  the  decision 
of  the  Western  Church  caused  it  to  assume 
the  character  of  a  heresy.  Some  of  the 
Scotists  among  the  schoolmen  appear  to 
have  made  an  approach  to  it,  by  their  tenet 
of  grace  ex  congruo.  They  thought  that 
the  human  virtues  and  moral  dispositions 
of  unregenerate  men  were  the  predispo- 
sing circumstances  which,  by  a  sort  of  fit- 
ness, made  them  the  objects  of  divine 
goodness  in  according  the  benefits  of  his 
grace.  Thus  their  own  free-will,  from 
which  it  was  admitted  that  such  qualities 
and  actions  might  proceed,  would  be  the 
real,  though  mediate,  cause  of  their  con- 
version. But  this  was  rejected  by  the 
greater  part,  who  asserted  the  absolute 
irrespective  freedom  of  grace,  and  appealed 
to  experience  for  its  frequent  efficacy  over 
those  who  had  no  inherent  virtues  to 
merit  it. 

32.  The  early  reformers,  and  none  more 
than  Luther,  maintained  the  ab-  Tenets  ofthe 

SOlllte    paSSiveneSS    Of    the    hu-   reformers. 

man  will,  so  that  no  good  actions,  even  af- 
ter conversion,  could  be  ascribed  in  any 
proper  sense  to  man,  but  altogether  to  the 
operation  of  the  Spirit.  Not  only,  how- 
ever, Melanchthon  espoused  the  Syner- 
gistic  doctrine,  but  the  Lutheran  Church, 
not  in  any  symbolic  book,  but  in  the  gen- 
eral tenets  of  its  members,  has  been 
thought  to  have  gone  a  good  way  towards 
Semi-pelagianism,  or  what  passed  for  such 
with  the  more  rigid  party.*  In  the  Re- 
formed Church,  on  the  contrary,  the  Su- 
pra-lapsarian  tenets  of  Calvin,  or  the  im- 
mutable decrees  of  election  and  reproba- 
tion from  all  eternity,  were  obviously  in- 
compatible with  any  hypothesis  that  made 
the  salvation  of  a  sinner  depend  upon  him- 
self. But,  towards  the  close  of  the  six- 
teenth century,  these  severer  notions 
(which,  it  may  be  observed,  by-the-way, 
had  always  been  entirely  rejected  by  the 
Anabaptists,  and  by  some  of  greater  name, 
such  as  Sebastian  Castalio)  began  to  be 
impugned  by  a  few  learned  men.  This 


*  LeClerc  says  that  the  doctrine  of  Melanchthon, 
which  Bossuet  stigmatizes  as  Semi-pelagian,  is  that 
of  ihe  Council  of  Trent.— Bibl.  Choisie,  -v.,  341.  I 
should  put  a  different  construction  upon  the  Tri- 
dentine  canons :  but,  of  course,  my  practice  in 
tuese  nice  questions  is  not  great. 


42 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


led  in  England  to  what  are  called  the  Lam- 
beth articles,  drawn  up  by  Whitgift,  six  of 
which  assert  the  Calvinistic  doctrine  of 
predestination,  and  three  deny  that  of  the 
Semi-pelagians.  But  these,  being  not  quite 
approved  by  the  queen  or  by  Lord  Bur- 
leigh,  were  never  received  by  authority  in 
our  church.  There  can,  nevertheless,  be 
no  reasonable  or  even  sincere  doubt  that 
Calvinism,  in  the  popular  sense,  was  at 
this  time  prevalent ;  even  Hooker  adopted 
the  Lambeth  articles,  with  verbal  modifi- 
cations that  do  not  affect  their  sense. 

33.  The  few  who,  in  England  or  in  the 
Rise  of  Ar-  reformed  churches  upon  the  Con- 
minianism.  tinent,  embraced  these  novel  and 
heterodox  opinions,  as  they  were  then  ac- 
counted, within  the  sixteenth  century,  ex- 
cited little  attention  in  comparison  with 
James  Arminius,  who  became  professor 
of  theology  at  Leyden  in  1604.     The  con- 
troversy ripened  in  a  few  years  ;  it  was 
intimately  connected,  not,  of  course,  in  its 
own  nature,  but  by  some  of  those  collat- 
eral influences  which  have  so  often  deter- 
mined the  opinions  of  mankind,  with  the 
political  relations  between  the  Dutch  cler- 
gy and  the  States  of  Holland,  as  it  was  af- 
terward with  the  still  less  theological  dif- 
ferences   of   that    government   with   its 
Stadtholder ;  it  appealed,  on  one  side,  to 
reason ;  on  the  other,  to  authority  and  to 
force  ;   an  unequal  conflict  till  posterity 
restore  the  balance.     Arminius  died   in 
1609  ;  he  has  left  works  on  the  main  top- 
ics of  debate  ;  but,  in  theological  literature, 
the  great  chief  of  the  Arminian  or  Remon- 
strant Church  is  Simon  Episco- 

Episcopms.  piug     The  prillcjpies  of  Episco- 

pius  are  more  widely  removed  from  those 
of  the  Augustinian*  school  than  the  five 
articles,  so  well  known  as  the  leading 
tenets  of  Arminius,  and  condemned  at  the 
Synod  of  Dort.  Of  this  famous  assembly 
it  is  difficult  to  speak  in  a  few  words. 
The  copious  history  of  Brandt  is  perhaps 
the  best  authority,  though  we  must  own 
that  the  opposite  party  have  a  right  to  be 
heard.  We  are  here,  however,  on  merely 
literary  ground,  and  the  proceedings  of 
ecclesiastical  synods  are  not  strictly  with- 
in any  province  of  literary  history. 

34.  The  works  of  Episcopius  were  col- 

lectively published  hi  1650,  sev- 

H»  writings.   gn  ycars  after  hig  death      They 

form  two  volumes  in  folio,  and  have  been 
more  than  once  reprinted.  The  most  re- 
markable are  the  Confessio  Remonstran- 
tium,  drawn  up  about  1624  ;  the  Apology 
for  it  against  a  censure  of  the  opposite 
party ;  and,  what  seems  to  have  been  a 
later  work  and  more  celebrated,  his  Insti- 
tuliones  Theologies.  These  contain  a 


new  scheme  of  religion,  compared  with 
that  of  the  established  churches  of  Eu- 
rope, and  may  justly  be  deemed  the  repre- 
sentative of  the  liberal  or  latitudinarian 
theology.  For,  though  the  writings  of 
Erasmus,  Cassander,  Castalio,  and  Acon- 
tius  had  tended  to  the  same  purpose,  they 
were  either  too  much  weakened  by  the 
restraints  of  prudence,  or  too  obscure  and 
transitory  to  draw  much  attention,  or  to 
carry  any  weight  against  the  rigid  and  ex- 
clusive tenets  which  were  sustained  by 
power. 

35.  The  earlier  treatises  of  Episcopiua 
seem  to  speak  on  several  sub-  Their  spirit 
jects  less  unequivocally  than  and  tendency. 
the  Theological  Institutions ;  a  reserve 
not  perhaps  to  be  censured,  and  which  all 
parties  have  thought  themselves  warrant- 
ed to  employ,  so  long  as  either  the  hope 
of  agreement  with  a  powerful  adversary 
or  of  mitigating  his  severity  should  re- 
main. Hence  the  Confession  of  the  Re- 
monstrants explicitly  states  that  they  de- 
cline the  Semi-pelagian  controversy,  con- 
tenting themselves  with  asserting  that  suf- 
ficient grace  is  bestowed  on  all  who  are 
called  by  the  Gospel,  to  comply  with  that 
divine  call  and  obey  its  precepts.*  They 
used  a  form  of  words,  which  might  seem 
equivalent  to  the  tenet  of  original  sin,  and 
they  did  not  avoid  or  refuse  that  term. 
But  Episcopius  afterward  denies  it,  at  leas 
in  the  extended  sense  of  most  theologians, 
almost  as  explicitly  as  Jeremy  Taylor.f 
It  was  common  in  the  seventeenth  centu- 
ry to  charge  the  Arminians,  and  especial- 
ly Episcopius,  with  Socinianism.  Bos- 
suet,  who  seems  to  have  quarrelled  with 
all  parties,  and  is  neither  Molinist  nor 
Jansenist,  Calvinist  nor  Arminian,  never 
doubting  that  there  is  a  firm  footing  be- 
tween them,  having  attacked  Episcopius 
and  Grotius  particularly  for  Semi-pelagi- 
anism  and  Socinianism,  Le  Clerc  entered 


*  Episcop.  Opera,  vol.  i.,  p.  64.  De  eo  nemini 
litem  movent  Remonstrantes.  1  am  not  sure  that 
my  translation  is  right ;  but  I  think  it  is  what  they 
meant.  By  prevenient  grace  they  seemed  to  have 
meant  only  the  exterior  grace  of  the  Gospel's  pro- 
mulgation, which  is  equivalent  to  the  Semi-pelagian 
scheme  (p.  180).  Grotius  latterly  came  into  this 
opinion,  though  he  had  disclaimed  everything  of  the 
kind  in  his  first  dealings  with  theology.  1  have 
found  the  same  doctrine  in  Calixtus ;  but  I  have 
preserved  no  reference  as  to  either. 

t  Instit.  Theolog.,  lib.  iv.,  sect,  v.,  c.  2.  Corrup- 
tionis  istius  universaiisnullasunt  indicia  nee  signa, 
imo  non  pauca  sunt  signa  ex  quibus  colligitur  natu- 
ram  totam  humanarn  sic  corruptam  non  esse.  The 
whole  chapter,  Ubide  peccato,quodyocant,origini9 
agitur,  et  praecipua  S.  S.loca  quibus  inniti  creditur, 
examinantur,  appears  to  deny  the  doctrine  entirely ; 
hut  there  may  be  some  shades  of  distinction  which 
have  escaped  me.  Limborch  (Theolog.  Christiana 
lib.  hi.,  c.  4}  allows  it  in  a  qualified  sense. 


FROM  1600  TO  1650. 


on  their  defence.  But  probably  he  would 
have  passed  with  Bossuet,  and  hardly 
cared  if  he  did  pass,  for  a  heretic,  at  least 
of  the  former  denomination  himself.* 

36.  But  the  most  distinguishing  peculiar- 
Great  laii-    ity  m  the  writings  of  Episcopius 
tude  allow,  was  his  reduction  of  the  funda- 
cd  by  ihem.  mental  doctrines  of  Christianity 
far  below  the  multitudinous  articles  of  the 
churches  ;  confining  them  to  propositions 
which  no  Christian  can  avoid  acknowledg- 
ing without  manifest  blame ;  such,  namely, 
wherein  the  subject,  the  predicate,  and  the 
connexion  of  the  two  are  declared  in  Scrip- 
ture by   express   or  equivalent   Avords.f 
He  laid  little  stress  on  the  authority  of 
the  Church,  notwithstanding  the  advan- 
tage he  might  have  gained  by  the  anti- 
Calvinistic  tenets  of  the  fathers ;  admitting, 
indeed,  the  validity  of  the  celebrated  rule 
of  Vincentius    Lirinensis   in    respect   of 
tradition,  which  the  upholders  of  primi- 
tive authority  have  always  had  in  their 
mouths,  but  adding  that  it  is  utterly  im- 
possible to  find  any  instance  wherein  it 
can  be  usefully  applied. J 

37.  The  Arminian  doctrine  spread,  as 
Progress  of    is  well  known,  in  despite  of 
Arminianism.  obloquy  and  persecution,  over 
much  of  the  Protestant  region  of  Europe. 
The  Lutheran  churches  were  already  come 
into  it ;  and  in  England  there  was  a  pre- 
disposing bias  in  the  rulers  of  the  Church 
towards    the   authority  of  the  primitive 
fathers,  all  of  whom,  before  the  age  of 


*  Bihl.  Choisie,  vol.  v. 

t  Necessaria  quae  scripturis  continentur  talia  esse 
omnia,  ut  sine  manifesta  hominis  culpa  ignorari, 
negariaut  indubiumvocari  nequeant ;  quia  videlicet 
turn  subjectum,  turn  prsedicatum,  turn  subject!  cum 
prardicato  connexio  necessaria  in  ipsis  scripturis  est, 
aut  expresse,  aut  sc-quipollenter. — Inst.  Theo.,  1.  iv., 
C.  9. 

J  Instit.  Theolog.,  1.  iv.,  sect,  i.,  c.  15.  Dupin 
eays  of  Episcopius:  II  n'a  employe  dans  ses  ou- 
vrages  que  des  passages  de  l'6criture  sainte  qu'il 
possedoit  parfaitement.  11  avoit  aussi  lu  les  Rab- 
bins, mais  on  ne  voit  pas  qu'il  cut  etudie  les  peres 
ni  1'antiquite  ecclesiastique.  11  ecrit  nettement  et 
rn6thodiquement,  pose  des  principes,  ne  dissimule 
rien  des  objections  qu'on  peut  faire  centre,  et  y 
repond  du  mieux  qu'il  peut.  On  voit  en  lui  une 
tolerance  parfaite  pour  les  Sociniens  qupiqu'il  se 
declare  contre  eux  ;  pour  le  parti  d'  Armimus,  ja- 
mais  il  n'a  eu  de  plus  zele  et  de  plus  habile  defen 
seur. — Bibliothcquedes  Auteurs  separesde  FEglise 
Romaine,  ii.,  495. 

The  life  of  Episcopius  has  been  written  by  Lim- 
borch.  Justice  has  been  done  to  this  eminent  per- 
son, and  to  the  Arminian  party  which  he  led,  in  two 
recent  English  works,  Nicholls's  Calvinism  and 
Arminianism  disolayed,  and  Calder's  Life  of  Epis- 
copius (1835).  The  latter  is  less  verbose  and  more 
temperate  than  the  former,  and  may  be  recom- 
mended as  a  fair  and  useful  production  to  the 
general  reader.  Two  theological  parties  in  this 
country,  though  opposite  in  most  things,  are  in- 
veterately  prejudiced  against  the  Leyden  school. 


Augustin,  and  especially  the  Greek,  are 
acknowledged  to  have  been  on  that  side 
.vhich  promoted  the  growth  of  this  Bata- 
vian  theology.*  Even  in  France  it  was 
lot  without  considerable  influence. 

ameron,  a  divine  of  Saumur,  one  £ 
of  the  chief  Protestant  seminaries,  devised 
a  scheme  of  syncretism,  which,  notwith- 
standing much  opposition,  gained  ground 
n  those  churches.  It  was  supported  by 
some  highly  distinguished  for  learning, 
Amyraut,  Daille,  and  Blondel.  Of  this 
scheme  it  is  remarkable,  that  while,  in  its 
iteral  purport,  it  can  only  seem  a  modifica- 
tion of  the  Augustinian  hypothesis,  with  an 
awkward  and'  feeble  admixture  of  the  other, 
yet  its  tendency  was  to  efface  the  former 
)y  degrees,  and  to  slide  into  the  Arminian 
hypothesis,  which  ultimately  became  al- 
most general  in  the  Reformed  Church. 

38.  These  perplexities  were  not  con- 
fined to  Protestant  theology.  The  Rise  of 
Church  of  Rome,   strenuous  to  Jansenism, 
maintain  the  tenets  of  Augustin,  and  yet  to 

ondemn  those  who  did  the  same,  has  been 

harged  with  exerting  the  plenitude  of 
tier  infallibility  to  enforce  the  belief  of 
an  incoherent  syncretism.  She  had  con- 
demned Baius  as  giving  too  much  efficacy 
to  grace ;  she  was  on  the  point  of  con- 
demning Molina  for  giving  too  little.  Both 
Clement  VJIII.  and  Paul  V.  leaned  to  the 
Dominicans  against  the  Jesuits  in  this 
controversy;  but  the  great  services  and 
influence  of  the  latter  order  prevented  a 
decision  which  would  have  humbled  them 
before  so  many  adversaries.  It  may  never- 
theless be  said  that  the  Semi-pelagian  or 
Arminian  doctrine,  though  consonant  to 
that  of  the  Jesuits,  was  generally  ill  re- 
ceived in  the  Church  of  Rome,  till  the 
opposite  hypothesis,  that  of  Augustin  and 
Calvin,  having  been  asserted  by  one  man 
in  more  unlimited  propositions  than  had 
been  usual,  a  reaction  took  place,  that 
eventually  both  gave  an  apparent  triumph 
to  the  Molinist  party,  and  endangered  the 
Church  itself  by  the  schism  to  which  the 
controversy  gave  rise.  The  Augustinus 


*  Gerard  Vossius,  in  his  Historia  Pelagiana,  the 
first  edition  of  which,  in  1618,  was  considerably  en- 
larged afterward,  admitted  that  the  first  four  centu- 
ries did  not  countenance  the  predestinarian  scheme 
of  Augustin.  This  gave  offence  in  Holland  ;  his 
book  was  publicly  censured,  he  was  excommuni- 
cated and  forbidden  to  teach  in  public  or  private. 
Vossius,  like  others,  remembered  that  he  had  a 
large  family,  and  made,  after  some  years,  a  sort  of 
retraction,  which,  of  course,  did  not  express  his 
real  opinion.  Le  Clerc  seems  to  doubt  whether  he 
acted  from  this  motive  or  from  what  he  calls  sim- 
plicity, an  expression  for  weakness.  Vossius  was, 
like  his  contemporary  Usher,  a  man  of  much  more 
learning  than  strength  of  intellect  — Bibliotheque 
Universelle,  xvii.,  3J2,  329.  Miceron,  vol.  xiii. 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


of  Jansenius,  Bishop  of  Ypres,  was  pub- 
lished in  1640,  and  in  the  very  next  year 
was  censured  at  Rome.  But  as  the  great 
controversy  that  sprung  out  of  the  con- 
demnation of  this  book  belongs  more 
strictly  to  the  next  period,  we  shall  defer 
it  for  the  present. 

,  39.  The  Socinian  academy  at  Racow, 
Socinus.  which  drew  to  itself  several  pros- 
VoiKeims.  elytes  from  other  countries,  ac- 
quired considerable  importance  in  theo- 
logical literature  after  the  beginning  of  the 
century.  It  was  not  likely  that  a  sect, 
regarded  with  peculiar  animosity  would 
escape  in  the  general  disposition  of  the 
Catholic  party  in  Poland  to  oppress  the 
dissidents,  whom  they  had  long  feared; 
the  RacQvian  institution  was  broken  up 
and  dispersed  in  1638,  though  some  of  its 
members  continued  to  linger  in  Poland 
for  twenty  years  longer.  The  Bibliotheca 
Fratrum  Polonorum,  published  at  Amster- 
dam (in  the  title-page,  Irenopolis)  in  1658, 
contains  chiefly  the  works  of  Socinian 
theologians  who  belong  to  the  first  part  of 
the  century.  The  Preelectiones  Theolo- 
gicae  of  Faustus  Socinus  himself,  being 
published  in  1609,  after  his  death,  fall  with- 
in this  class.  They  contain  a  systematic 
theology  according  to  his  scheme,  and  are 
praised  by  Eichhorn  for  the  acuteness  and 
depth  they  often  display.*  In  these,  among 
his  other  deviations  from  the  general  or- 
thodoxy of  Christendom,  Socinus  aston- 
ished mankind  by  denying  the  evidences 
of  natural  religion,  resolving  our  knowl- 
edge even  of  a  Deity  into  revelation.  This 
paradox  is  more  worthy  of  those  who  have 
since  adopted  it,  than  of  so  acute  a  reason- 
er  as  Socinus. f  It  is,  in  fact,  not  very  con- 
genial to  the  spirit  of  his  theology,  which, 
rejecting  all  it  thinks  incompatible  with 
reason  as  to  the  divine  attributes,  should, 
at  least,  have  some  established  notions  of 
them  upon  rational  principles.  The  later 
Socinians,  even  those  nearest  to  the  time, 
did  not  follow  their  master  in  this  part  of 
his  tenets. |  The  treatise  of  Volkelius, 
son-in-law  of  Socinus,  De  vera  Religione, 


*  Eichhorn,  vi.,  part  i,  p  283.  Simon,  however, 
observes  that  Socinus  knew  little  Greek  or  Hebrew, 
as  he  owns  himself,  though  he  pretends  to  decide 
questions  which  require  a  knowledge  of  these  lan- 
guages. I  quote  from  Bibliotheque  Universelle, 
vol.  xxiii.,  p.  498. 

t  Tillotson,  in  one  of  his  sermons  (I  cannot  give 
the  reference,  writing  from  memory),  dissents,  as 
might  be  expected,  from  this  denial  of  natural  re- 
ligion, but  with  such  encomiums  on  Socinus  as 
some  archbishops  would  have  avoided. 

J  Socinum  sectse  ejus  principes  nuper  Volkelius, 
nunc  Ruarus  non  probant,  in  eo  quod  circa  Dei 
cognitionem  petita  e  natura  rerum  argumenta  ab- 
dicaverit.— Grotius,  Epist.  964.  See,  too,  Ruari, 
Epist.,  p.  210. 


is  chiefly  taken  from  the  latter.  It  was 
printed  at  Racow  in  1633,  and  again  in 
Holland  in  1641 ;  but  most  of  the  latter 
impression  having  been  burned  by  order 
of  the  magistrates,  it  is  a  very  scarce 
book,  and  copies  were  formerly  sold  at 
great  prices.  But  the  hangman's  bonfire 
has  lost  its  charm,  and  forbidden  books, 
when  they  happen  to  occur,  are  no  longer 
in  much  request.  The  first  book  out  of 
five,  in  this  volume  of  Volkelius,  on  the 
attributes  of  God,  is  by  Crellius. 

40.  Crellius  was,  perhaps,  the  most  em- 
inent of  the  Racovian  school  in  this  creiiius. 
century.*  Many  of  its  members,  Ruarus. 
like  himself,  were  Germans,  their  sect 
having  gained  ground  in  some  of  the  Lu- 
theran states  about  this  time,  as  it  did  also 
in  the  United  Provinces.  Grotius  broke 
a  lance  with  him  in  his  treatise  De  Satis- 
factione  Christi,  to  which  he  replied  in 
another  with  the  same  title.  Each  retired 
from  the  field  with  the  courtesies  of  chiv- 
alry towards  his  antagonist.  The  Dutch 
Arminians  in  general,  though  very  erro- 
neously supposed  to  concur  in  all  the 
leading  tenets  of  the  Racovian  theolo- 
gians, treated  them  with  much  respect.f 
Grotius  was  often  reproached  with  the 
intimacies  he  kept  up  among  these  ob- 
noxious sectaries ;  and  many  of  his  let- 
ters, as  well  as  those  of  Curcellaous  and 
other  leading  Arminians,  bear  witness  to 
the  personal  regard  they  felt  for  them.J 


*  Dupin  praises  Volkelius  highly,  but  says  of 
Crellius,  II  avoit  beaucoup  etudie,  mais  il  n'e"toit 
pas  un  esprit  fort  eleve  — Bibl.  des  Auteurs  sepa- 
res,  ii.,  614,  v.,  628.  Simon,  on  the  contrary  (ubi 
supra),  praises  Crellius  highly,  and  says  no  other 
commentator  of  his  party  is  comparable  to  him. 

t  The  Remonstrants  refused  to  anathematize  the 
Socinians,  Episcopius  says,  on  account  of  the  ap- 
parent arguments  in  their  favour",  and  the  differen- 
ces that  have  always  existed  on  that  head. — Apolo- 
gia Confessionis.  Episc  ,  Op.,  vol.  i.  His  own 
tenets  were  probably  what  some  would  call  Arian ; 
thus  he  says,  personis  his  tribus  divinitatem  tribui, 
non  collateraliter  ant  co-ordinate,  sed  subordinate. 
— Inst.  Theol.,  1.  iv.,  c.  2,  32.  Grotius  says,  he 
finds  the  Catholics  more  tractable  about  the  Trinity 
than  the  Calvinists. 

t  Grotius  never  shrunk  from  defending  his  inti- 
macy with  Ruarus  and  Crellius;  and,  after  prais- 
ing the  former,  concludes,  in  one  of  his  letters, 
with  this  liberal  and  honest  sentiment.  Ego  vero 
ejus  sum  animi,  ejusque  instituti,  ut  mihi  cum 
hominibus  cunctis,  praecipue  cum  Christianis  quan- 
tumvis  errantibus  necessitudinis  aliquid  putem  in- 
tercedere,  idque  me  neque  dictis  neque  factis  pigeat 
demonstrare.— Epist.  860.  Haeretici  nisi  aiiquid 
haberent  veri  ac  nobiscum  commune,  jam  hajretici 
non  essent. — 2da  Series,  p.  873.  JVihil  veri  eo  fac- 
turn  est  deterius,  quod  in  id  Socinus  incidit. — P. 
880.  This,  he  thought,  was  the  case  in  some 
questions,  where  Socinus,  without  designing  it, 
had  agreed  with  antiquity.  Neque  rne  pudeat  con- 
sentire  Socino,  si  quando  is  in  veram  veteremqua 
sententiam  incidit,  ut  sane  fecit  in  controversia  d> 


FROM  1600  TO  1650. 


45 


Several  proofs  of  this  will  be  also  found 
in  the  Epistles  of  Ruarus,  a  book  which 
throws  much  light  on  the  theological  opin- 
ions of  the  age.  Ruarus  was  a  man  of 
anuleness,  learning,  and  piety,  not  wholly 
concurring  with  the  Racovians,  but  not 
far  removed  from  them.*  The  comment- 


justitia  per  fidem,  et  aliis  nonnullis. — Id.,  p.  797. 
Socinus  hoc  non  agens  in  antiquse  ecclesiae  sensus 
nonnunquam  incidit,  et  eas  paries,  ut  ingenio  vale- 
bat,  percoluit  feliciter.  Adrniscuit  alia  quae  etiam 
vera  dicenti  auctoritatem  detraxere. — Epist.  966. 
Even  during  his  controversy  with  Crellius  he  wrote 
to  him  in  a  very  handsome  manner.  Bene  autem 
in  cpistola  tua,  qua;  mihi  longe  gratissima  advenit, 
de  me  judicas,  non  esse  me  eorum  in  numero,  qui 
ob  sententias  salva  pietate  dissentientes,  alieno  a 
quoquam  sim  animo,  aut  boni  alicujus  amiuitiam 
repudiare.  Etiarn  in  libro  de  vera  religions  [Vol- 
kelii],  quern  jam  percurri,  relecturus  et  posthac, 
multa  invenio  summo  cum  judicio  observata;  illud 
vero  sa»culo  gratulor,  repertos  homines,  qui  neuti- 
quatn  in  controversiis  subtilibus  tantum  ponunt, 
quantum  in  vera  vitas  emendatione,  et  quotkliano 
ad  sanctitatem  profectu. — Epist.  280  (1631).  He 
wrote  with  kindness  and  regret  on  the  breaking  up 
of  the  establishment  at  Racow  in  1638. — Epist. 
1006.  Grotius  has  been  as  obnoxious  on  the  score 
of  Socinianism  as  of  Popery.  His  Commentaries 
on  the  Scriptures  are  taxed  with  it,  and,  in  fact,  he 
is  not  in  good  odour  with  any  but  the  Armiriian  di- 
vines, nor  do  they,  we  see,  wholly  agree  with  him. 

*.Ruams  nearly  agreed  with  Grotius  as  to  the 
atonement ;  at  least  the  latter  thought  so.  De 
satisfactione  ita  mihi  respondit,  ut  nihil  admodum 
controversies  relinqueretur. — Grot.,  Epist.,  2da  se- 
ries, p.  881.  See  also  Ruari,  Epistolae,  p.  148,  282. 
He  paid  also  more  respect  to  the  second  century 
than  some  of  his  brethren,  p.  100,  439,  and  even 
struggles  to  agree  with  the  ante-Nicene  fathers, 
though  he  cannot  come  up  to  them. — P.  275,  296. 
But,  in  answer  to  some  of  his  correspondents  who 
magnified  primitive  authority,  he  well  replies : 
Deinde  quaere  quis  illos  fixit  veritati  terminos  ? 
quis  duo  ilia  prima  saecula  ab  omni  errore  absolvit? 
Annon  ecclesiastica  historia  satis  testatur,  nonnul- 
las  opiniones  portentosas  jam  turn  inter  eos  qui 
nomen  Christi  deaerant,  invaluisse?  Quin  ut  ve- 
rum  fatear,  res  ipsa  docet  nonnullos  posterioris  asvi 
acutius  in  enodandis  Scripturis  versatos  ;  et  ut  de 
nostra  setate  dicam,  valde  me  posniteret  Calvini 
vestri.  ac  BezaB  si  nihilo  solidius  sacras  literas  in- 
terpretarentur,  quam  video  illos  ipsos,  quos  tu  mihi 
obducis,  fecisse. — P.  183.  He  lamented  the  fatal 
swerving  from  Protestantism  into  which  reverence 
for  antiquity  was  leading  his  friend  Grotius :  for- 
tassis  et  antiquitatis  veneratio,  quae  gravibus  qui- 
busdam  Pontificiorum  erroribus  praluxit,  ultra  lin- 
eatn  eum  perduxit,  p.  277  (1642) ;  and  in  answer  to 
Mersenne,  who  seems  to  have  had  some  hopes  of 
his  conversion,  and  recommended  him  to  the  con- 
troversy of  Grotius  with  Rivet,  he  plainly  replies, 
that  the  former  had  extenuated  some  things  in  the 
Church  of  Rome  which  ought  to  be  altered,  p.  258. 
This  he  frequently  laments  in  the  course  of  his  let- 
ters, but  treats  him  with  gentleness  in  comparison 
with  some  of  the  sterner  Socinians,  It  is  remark- 
able, that  even  he  and  Crellius  seem  to  have  exclu- 
ded the  members  of  the  Church  of  Rome,  except 
the  "  vulgus  ineruditum  et  Cassandri  gregales," 
from  salvation  ;  and  this  while  almost  all  churches 
were  anathematizing  themselves  in  the  same  way. 
— Ruar ,  Epist.,  p.  9  and  p.  167. 

This  book  contains  two  centuries  of  epistles,  the 


aries  of  Grotius  on  the  Scriptures  have 
been  also  charged  with  Socinianism ;  but 
he  pleaded  that  his  interpretations  were 
those  of  the  fathers. 

41.  Two  questions  of  great  importance, 
which  had  been  raised  in  the  Erastianism 
preceding  century,  became  still 

more  interesting  in  the  present,  on  ac- 
count of  the  more  frequent  occasion  that 
the  force  of  circumstances  gave  for  their 
investigation,  and  the  greater  names  that 
were  engaged  in  it.  Both  of  these  arose 
out  of  the  national  establishment  of 
churches,  and  their  consequent  relation 
to  the  commonwealth.  One  regarded  the 
power  of  the  magistrate  over  the  church 
he  recognised ;  the  other  involved  the 
right  of  his  subjects  to  dissent  from  it  by 
non-conformity,  or  by  a  different  mode  of 
worship. 

42.  Erastus,  by  proposing  to  substitute 
for  the  ancient  discipline  of  ec-  maintained 
clesiastical  censures,  and  espe-  by  Hooker, 
cially  for  excommunication,  a  perpetual 
superintendence  of  the  civil  power  over 
the  faith  and  practice  of  the  Church,  had 
given  name  to  a  scheme  generally  denom- 
inated Erastianism,  though  in  some  re- 
spects far  broader  than  anything  he  seems 
to  have  suggested.     It  was  more  elabo^ 
rately  maintained  by  Hooker  in  his  Ec- 
clesiastical Polity,  and  had  been,  in  fact, 
that  on  which  the   English  reformation 
under  Henry  was  originally  founded.    But, 
as  it  was  manifestly  opposed  to  the  ultra- 
montane pretensions  of  the  See  of  Rome, 
and  even  to  the  more  moderate  theories 
of  the  Catholic  Church — being,  of  course, 
destructive  of  her  independence — so  did  it 
stand  in  equal  contradiction  to  the  Pres- 
byterian scheme  of  Scotland  and  of  the 
United  Provinces.    In  the  latter  andGro,ins 
country,  the  States  of  Holland 

had  been  favourable  to  the  Arminians,  so 
far,  at  least,  as  to  repress  any  violence 
against  them  ;  the  clergy  were  exaspera- 
ted and  intolerant ;  and  this  raised  the 
question  of  civil  supremacy,  in  which 


second  of  which  is  said  to  be  very  scarce ;  and  1 
doubt  whether  many  have  read  the  first,  which 
must  excuse  my  quotations.  The  learning,  sense, 
and  integrity  of  Ruarus,  as  well  as  the  high  respect 
which  Calixtus,  Curcellaeus,  and  other  groitt  men 
felt  for  him,  render  the  book  of  some  interest.  He 
tells  us  that  while  he  was  in  England,  about  1617, 
a  professorship  at  Cambridge  was  offered  to  him, 
worth  1001.  per  annum,  besides  as  much  more  from 
private  pupils,  p.  71.  But  he  probably  mistook  the 
civil  speeches  of  individuals  for  an  offer :  he  was 
not  eminent  enough  for  such  a  proposal  on  the  part 
of  the  University  ;  and,  at  least,  he  must  have  been 
silent  about  his  Socinianism.  The  morality  of  the 
early  Socinians  was  very  strict,  and  even  ascetic ; 
proofs  of  which  appear  in  these  letters,  p.  306,  et 
alibi. 


46 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


Grotius,  by  one  of  his  early  works,  enti- 
tled Pietas  Ordinum  Hollandiae,  published 
in  1613,  sustained  the  right  of  the  magis- 
trate to  inhibit  dangerous  controversies. 

43.  He  returned,  after  the  lapse  of  some 

His  Treatise  Years'  to  tne  same  theme,  in  a 
on  Kcciesias-  larger  and  more  comprehensive 
ticai  Power  WOrk,  De  Imperio  Summarunf 
'•  Potestatum  circa  Sacra.  It  is 
written  upon  the  Anglican  principles  of 
regal  supremacy,  which  had,  however, 
become  far  less  popular  with  the  rulers  of 
our  Church  than  in  the  days  of  Cranmer, 
Whitgift,  and  Hooker.  After  stating  the 
question,  and  proving  the  ecclesiastical 
power  of  the  magistrate  by  natural  law, 
Scripture,  established  usage,  agreement 
of  heathen  and  Christian  writers,  and  the 
reason  of  the  thing,  he  distinguishes  con- 
trol over  sacred  offices  from  their  exer- 
cise, and  proceeds  to  inquire  whether  the 
magistrate  may  take  the  latter  on  himself; 
which,  though  practised  in  the  early  ages 
of  the  world,  he  finds  inconvenient  at 
present,  the  manners  required  for  the  re- 
gal and  sacerdotal  character  being  wholly 
different.* 

44.  Actions  may  be  prescribed  or  for- 
bidden by  natural  divine  law,  positive  di- 
vine law,  or  human  law ;  the  latter  ex- 
tending to  nothing  but  what  is  left  indefi- 
nite by  the  other  two.     But,  though  we 
are  bound  not  to  act  in  obedience  to  hu- 
man laws  which  contradict  the  divine,  we 
are  also  bound  not  forcibly  to  resist  them. 
We  may  defend  ourselves  by  force  against 
an  equal,  not  against  a  superior,  as  he 
proves  first  from  the  Digest,  and  secondly 
from   the   New  Testament.!    Thus    the 
rule  of  passive  obedience  is  unequivocally 
laid  down.     He  meets  the  recent  exam- 
ples of  resistance  to  sovereigns  by  say- 
ing that  they  cannot  be  approved  where 
the  kings  have  had  an  absolute  power ; 
but  where  they  are  bound  by  compact,  or 
the  authority  of  a  senate  or  of  estates, 
since  their  power  is  not  unlimited,  they 
may  be  resisted  on  just  grounds  by  that  au- 
thority.J    "  Which  I  remark,"  he  proceeds 
to   say,  "  lest  any  one,  as  I  sometimes 
have    known,    should    disgrace    a    good 
cause  by  a  mistaken  defence." 

45.  The  magistrate  can   alter  nothing 
which  is  definitely  laid  down  by  the  posi- 
tive law  of  God  ;  but  he  may  regulate  the 
circumstantial  observance  even  of  such  ; 


*  Cap.  4.  t  Cap.  3. 

t  Sin  alicubi  regcs  tales  fuere,  qui  pactis  sive 
positivis  legibus  et  senatus  alicujus  aut  ordinum 
decretis  adstringerentur,  in  hos,  ut  summum  impe- 
rium  non  obtinent,  arma  ex  optimatum  tanquam 
Buperiorum  sententia  sumi  justis  de  causis  potue- 
runt.— Ibid. 


and  as  to  things  undefined  in  Scripture, 
he  has  plenary  jurisdiction ;  such  as  the 
temporalities  of  the  Church,  the  convoca- 
tion of  synods,  the  election  of  pastors. 
The  burden  of  proof  lies  on  those  who 
would  limit  the  civil  power  by  affirming 
anything  to  be  prescribed  by  the  divine 
law.*  The  authority  attributed  in  Scrip- 
ture to  churches  does  not  interfere  with 
the  power  of  the  magistrate,  being  per- 
suasive, and  not  coercive.  The  whole 
Church  has  no  coercive  power  by  divine 
right. f  But,  since  the  visible  Church  is  a 
society  of  divine  institution,  it  follows 
that  whatever  is  naturally  competent  to  a 
lawful  society,  is  competent  also  to  the 
Church,  unless  it  can  be  proved  to  be 
withdrawn  from  it.J  '  It  has,  therefore,  a 
legislative  government  (regimen  constitu- 
tivum),  of  which  he  gives  the  institution 
of  the  Lord's  day  as  an  example.  But 
this  does  not  impair  the  sovereign's  au- 
thority in  ecclesiastical  matters.  In  treat- 
ing of  that  supremacy,  he  does  not  clearly 
show  what  jurisdiction  he  attributes  to 
the  magistrate  ;  most  of  his  instances  re- 
lating to  the  temporalities  of  the  Church, 
as  to  which  no  question  is  likely  to  arise. fy 
But,  on  the  whole,  he  means  undoubtedly 
to  carry  the  supremacy  as  far  as  is  done 
in  England. 

46.  In  a  chapter  on  the  due  exercise  of 
the  civil  supremacy  over  the  Church,  he 
shows  more  of  a  Protestant  feeling  than 
would  have  been  found  in  him  when  he 
approached  the  latter  years  of  his  life  ;|| 
and  declares  fully  against  submission  to 
any  visible  authority  in  matters  of  faith, 
so  that  sovereigns  are  not  bound  to  follow 
the  ministers  of  the  Church  in  what  they 
may  affirm  as  doctrine.  Ecclesiastical 
synods  he  deems  often  useful,  but  thinks 
the  magistrate  is  not  bound  to  act  with 
their  consent,  and  that  they  are  some- 
times pernicious. ^f  The  magistrate  may 
determine  who  shall  compose  such  syn- 
ods ;**  a  strong  position,  which  he  endeav- 
ours to  prove  at  great  length.  Even  if 
the  members  are  elected  by  the  Church, 
the  magistrate  may  reject  those  whom  ho 


*  Ibid.  t  Cap.  4. 

$  Quandoquidem  ecclcsia  coetus  est  divina  lego 
non  permissus  tantum  sed  et  institutus,  de  aspecta- 
bili  coetu  loquor,  sequitur  en  oinnia  quos  ccetibus 
legitimis  naturaliter  competunt,  etiam  ecclesiae 
competere,  quatenus  adempta  non  probantur. — Ib. 

<<>  Cap.  5. 

||  Cap.  6.  He  states  the  question  to  be  this  :  An 
post  apostolorum  setatem  aut  persona  aut  ccetus  sit 
aliquis  aspectabilis,  de  qna  quove  certi  esse  possi- 
mus  ac  debeamus,  qufficunque  ab  ipsis  proponantur, 
esse  indubitatse  ventatis.  Negant  hoc  Evangelici; 
aiunt  Romanenses.  1T  Cap.  7. 

**  Designare  e  is,  qui  ad  synodum  sunt  venturL 


FROM  1600  TO  1650. 


47 


reckons  unfit ;  he  may  preside  in  the  as- 
sembly, confirm,  reject,  annul  its  decis- 
ions. He  may  also  legislate  about  the 
whole  organization  of  the  established 
Church.*  It  is  for  him  to  determine  what 
form  of  religion  shall  be  publicly  exer- 
cised ;  an  essential  right  of  sovereignty, 
as  political  writers  have  laid  it  down. 
And  this  is  confirmed  by  experience  ;  "for 
if  any  one  shall  ask  why  the  Roman  reli- 
gion flourished  in  England  under  Mary, 
the  Protestant  under  Elizabeth,  no  cause 
can  be  assigned  but  the  pleasure  of  these 
queens,  or,  as  some  might  say,  of  the 
queens  and  parliaments."  In  this  manner 
Grotius  disposes  of  a  great  question  of 
casuistry  by  what  has  been  done  ;  as  if 
murder  and  adultery  might  not  be  estab- 
lished by  the  same  logic.  Natural  law 
would  be  resolved  into  history  were  we 
always  to  argue  in  a  similar  way.  But 
this,  as  will  appear  more  fully  hereafter", 
is  not  the  usual  reasoning  of  Grotius. 
To  the  objection  from  the  danger  of 
abuse  in  conceding  so  much  power  to  the 
sovereign,  he  replies  that  no  other  theory 
will  secure  us  better.  On  every  supposi- 
tion, the  power  must  be  lodged  in  men, 
who  are  all  liable  to  error.  We  must  con- 
pole  ourselves  by  a  trust  in  Divine  Provi- 
dence alone. f 

47.  The  sovereign  may  abolish  false  re- 
ligions and  punish  their  professors,  which 
no  one  else  can.  Here  again  we  find 
precedents  instead  of  arguments  ;  but  he 
says  that  the  primitive  Church  disapproved 
of  capital  punishments  for  heresy,  which 
seems  to  be  his  main  reason  for  doing  the 
same.  The  sovereign  may  also  enjoin  si- 
lence in  controversies,  and  inspect  the  con- 
duct of  the  clergy  without  limiting  himself 
by  the  canons,  though  he  will  do  well  to 
regard  them.  Legislation  and  jurisdiction, 
that  is,  of  a  coercive  nature,  do  not  belong 
to  the  Church,  except  as  they  may  be  con- 
ceded to  it  by  the  civil  power.J  He  fully 
explains  the  various  kinds  of  ecclesiasti- 
cal law  that  have  been  gradually  introdu- 
ced. Even  the  power  of  the  keys,  which 
is  by  divine  right,  cannot  be  so  exercised 
as  to  exclude  the  appellant  jurisdiction  of 
the  sovereign ;  as  he  proves  by  the  Ro- 
man law,  and  by  the  usage  of  the  Parlia- 
ment of  Paris. 


*  Cap.  8.  Nulla  in  re  magis  elucescit  vis  suinmi 
imperil,  quam  quod  in  ejus  arbitrio  est  quaenam  re- 
ligip  public^  exerceatur,  idque  praecipuum  inter 
majestatis  jura  ponunt  pmnes  qui  politick  scripse- 
runt.  Docet  idem  experientia  ;  si  enim  quseras  cur 
in  Anglia  Maria  regnante  Romana  religio,  Eliza- 
hetha  vero  imperante,  Evangelica  vigtierit,  causa 
proxima  re<kii  non  poterit,  nisi  ex  arbitrio  regina- 
rum,  aut,  ut  quibusdam  videtur,  reginarum  ac  par- 
lamenti,  p.  242.  t  Cap.  8.  £  Ibid.  §  Cap.  9. 


48.  The  sovereign  has  a  control  (inspec- 
tionem  cum  imperio)  over  the  ordination 
of  priests,  and  certainly  possessesva  right 
of  confirmation,  that  is,  the   assignment 
of  an  ordained  minister  to  a  given  cure.* 
And,  though  the  election  of  pastors  be- 
longs to  the  Church,  this  may,  for  good 
reasons,  be  taken  into  the  hands  of  the 
sovereign.     Instances  in  point  are  easily 
found,  and  the  chapter  upon  the  subject 
contains  an  interesting  historical  summa- 
ry of  this  part  of  ecclesiastical  law.     In 
every  case,  the  sovereign  has  a  right  of 
annulling  an  election,  and  also  of  remo- 
ving a  pastor  from  the  local  exercise  of  his 
ministry.! 

49.  This  is  'the  full  development  of  an 
Erastian  theory,  which  Cranmer  Rem,,,^ 
had    early  espoused,   and   which  upon  tins 
Hooker  had  maintained  in  a  less  llieory- 
extensive  manner.     Bossuet  has  animad- 
verted upon  it,  nor  can  it  appear  tolerable 
to  a  zealous  churchman.^    It  was  well 
received  in  England  by  the  lawyers,  who 
had  always  been  jealous  of  the  spiritual 
tribunals,  especially  of  late  years,  when, 
under  the  patronage  of  Laud,  they  had  ta- 
ken a  higher  tone  than  seemed  compatible 
with  the  supremacy  of  the  common  law. 
The  scheme,  nevertheless,  is  open  to  some 
objections,  when  propounded  in  so  unlim- 
ited a  manner ;  none  of  which  is  more  stri- 
king than  that  it  tends  to  convert  differ- 
ences of  religious   opinions  into  crimes 
against  the  state,  and  furnishes   bigotry 
with  new  arguments  as  well  as  new  arms, 
in  its  conflict  with  the  free  exercise  of  hu- 
man reason.     Grotius,   however,   feared 
rather  that  he  had  given  too  little  power 
to  the  civil  magistrate  than  too  much.fy 

50.  Persecution   for   religious   hetero- 
doxy, in  all  its  degrees,  was  in  the  six- 


*  Cap.  10.  Confirmationem  hanc  summa?  po- 
testati  acceptam  ferendam  ncrno  sanus  negaverit. 

t  Cap.  ]0. 

J  See  Le  Clerc's  remarks  on  what  Bossuet  has 
said.— Bibliotheque  Choisie,  v.,  349. 

§  Ego  multo  rnagis  vereor,  ne  minus  quam  par 
est  magistratibus,  aut  plusquam  par  est  pastoribus 
tribuerim,  quam  ne  in  alteram  partem  ilerum  (?) 
excesserim,  nee  sic  quidem  illis  satisfiet  qui  se  cc- 
•clesiam  vocant. — Epist.  43.  This  was  in  1614.  af- 
ter the  publication  of  the  I'ietas  Ordinuin  Hollan- 
dia?.  As  he  drew  nearer  to  the  Church  of  Rome, 
or  that  of  Canterbury,  he  must  probably  have  some- 
what modified  his  Erastiariism.  And  yet  he  seems 
never  to  have  been  friendly  to  the  temporal  power 
of  bishops.  He  writes,  in  August  1G41,  Episcopis 
Angliro  videtur  mansurmh  nomen  propre  sine  re 
accisaet  opulentia  et  auctoritate.  Mini  non  disph- 
cet  ecclesioe  pastores  et  ab  inani  pompa  et  a  curis 
sscularium  re  mm  sublevari,  p.  101 1.  He  had  a  re- 
gard for  Laud,  as  the  restorer  of  a  reverence  for 
primitive  antiquity,  and  frequently  laments  his  fate  ; 
but  had  said  in  1640,  Doleo  quod  episcopi  nimium 
intendendo  potentiae  suae  nervos  odium  sibi  potius 
quam  amorem  populorurn  pariunt. — Ep.  1390. 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


Toleration  teenth  century  the  principle  as 
of  religious  well  as  the  practice  of  every 
tenets.  church.  It  was  held  inconsist- 
ent with  the  sovereignty  of  the  magistrate 
to  permit  any  religion  but  his  own  ;  incon- 
sistent with  his  duty  to  suffer  any  but  the 
true.  The  Edict  of  Nantes  was  a  com- 
promise between  belligerant  parties ;  the 
toleration  of  the  dissidents  in  Poland  was 
nearly  of  the  same  kind ;  but  no  state 
powerful  enough  to  restrain  its  sectaries 
from  the  exercise  of  their  separate  wor- 
ship had  any  scruples  about  the  right  and 
obligation  to  do  so.  Even  the  writers  of 
that  century,  who  seemed  most  strenuous 
for  toleration,  Castalio,  Celso,  and  Koorn- 
hert,  had  confined  themselves  to  denying 
the  justice  of  penal,  and  especially  of 
capital  inflictions  for  heresy ;  the  liberty 
of  public,  worship  had  but  incidentally,  if 
at  all,  been  discussed.  Acontius  had  de- 
veloped larger  principles,  distinguishing 
the  fundamental  from  the  accessory  doc- 
trines of  the  Gospel ;  which,  by  weaken-, 
ing  the  associations  of  bigotry,  prepared 
the  way  for  a  Catholic  tolerance.  Epis- 
copius  speaks  in  the  strongest  terms  of 
the  treatise  of  Acontius,  de  Stratagemat- 
ibus  Satanas,  and  says  that  the  Remon- 
strants trod  closely  in  his  steps,  as  would 
appear  by  comparing  their  writings ;  so 
that  he  shall  quote  no  passages  in  proof, 
their  entire  books  bearing  witness  to  the 
conformity.* 

51.  The  Arminian  dispute  led  by  neces- 
ciaimed  by  sary  consequence  to  the  question 
the  Armin-  of  public  toleration.  They  sought 
ians»  at  first  a  free  admission  to  the 
pulpits,  and  in  an  excellent  speech  of  Gro- 
tius,  addressed  to  the  magistrates  of  Am- 
sterdam in  1610,  he  objects  to  a  separate 
toleration  as  rending  the  bosom  of  the 
Church.  But  it  was  soon  evident  that  no- 
thing more  could  be  obtained ;  and  their  ad- 
versaries refused  this.  They  were  driven, 
therefore,  to  contend  for  religious  liberty, 
and  the  writings  of  Episcopius  are  full  of 
this  plea.  Against  capital  punishments  for 
heresy  he  raises  his  voice  with  indignant 
severity,  and  asserts  that  the  whole  Chris- 
tian world  abhorred  the  fatal*  precedent  of 
Calvin  in  the  death  of  Servetus.f  This 


*  Episcop.  Opera,  i.,  301  (edit.  1665). 

t  Calvinus  signum  primus  extulit  supra  alios 
omnes,  et  exemplum  dedit  in  theatre  Gebennensi 
funestissimum,  quodque  Christianus  orbis  merito 
execratur  et  abominatur;  nee  hoc  contentus  tam 
atroci  facinore,  cruento  simul  animo  et  calamo 
parentavit.— Apologia  pro  Confess.  Rernonstran- 
tium,  c.  24,  p.  241.  The  whole  passage  is  very  re- 
markable, as  an  indignant  reproof  of  a  party  who, 
while  living  under  popish  governments,  cry  out  for 
liberty  of  conscience,  and  deny  the  right  of  punish- 
ing opinions  ;  yet  in  all  their  writings  and  actions, 


indicates  a  remarkable  change  already 
wrought  in  the  sentiments  of  mankind. 
Certain  it  is  that  no  capital  punishments 
for  heresy  were  inflicted  in  Protestant 
countries  after  this  time ;  nor  were  they 
as  frequently  or  as  boldly  vindicated  as 
before.* 

62.  The  Independents  claim  to  them- 
selves the  honour  of  having  been  bytheimie- 
the  first  to  maintain  the  princi-  pendents; 
pies  of  general  toleration,  both  as  to  free- 
dom of  worship,  and  immunity  from  pen- 
alties for  opinion.  But  that  the  Arminians 
were  not  as  early  promulgators  of  the 
same  noble  tenets  seems  not  to  have  been 
proved.  Crellius,  in  his  Vindicise  pro  Re- 
ligionis  Libertate,  1636,  contended  for  the 
Polish  dissidents,  and  especially  for  his 
own  sect.f  The  principle  is  implied,  if 
not  expressed,  in  the  writings  of  Chilling- 
worth,  and  still  more  of  Hales;  but  the 
first  famous  plea,  in  this  country,  for  tol- 
erance in  religion,  on  a  comprehensive 
basis  and  on  deep-seated  foundations, 
was  the  Liberty  of  Prophesying  and  by  Jer- 
by  Jeremy  Taylor.  This  eel-  emy  Taylor, 
ebrated  work  was  written,  according  to 
Taylor's  dedication,  during  his  retirement 
in  Wales,  whither  he  was  driven,  as  he 
expresses  it,  "  by  this  great  storm  which 
hath  dashed  the  vessel  of  the  Church  all  in 
pieces,"  and  published  in  1647.  He  speaks 
of  himself  as  without  access  to  books  ;  it 
is  evident,  however,  from  the  abundance 
of  his  quotations,  that  he  was  not  much  in 
want  of  them ;  and  from  this,  as  well  as 
other  strong  indications,  we  may  reason- 


when  they  have  the  power,  display  the  very  oppo- 
site principles. 

*  De  haueticorum  poenis  quae  scripsi,  in  iis  me- 
cum  sentit  Gallia  et  Germania,  ut  pulo,  omnis. — 
Grot,  Epist.,  p.  941  (1642).  Some  years  sooner 
there  had  been  remains  of  the  leaven  in  France. 
Adversus  hsereticidia,  he  says  in  1626,  satis  ut 
arbitror  plane  locutus  sum,  certe  ita  ut  hie  multos 
ob  id  oflenderim,  p.  789.  Our  own  Fuller,  I  am 
sorry  to  say,  in  his  Church  History,  written  about 
1650,  speaks  with  some  disapprobation  of  the  sym- 
pathy of  the  people  with  Legal  and  VYightman, 
burned  by  James  1.  in  1614;  and  this  is  the  more 
remarkable,  as  he  is  a  well-natured  and  not  general- 
ly bigoted  writer.  I  should  think  he  was  the  latest 
Protestant  who  has  tarnished  his  name  by  such 
sentiments.  James,  who,  in  some  countries,  would 
have  had  certain  reasons  for  dreading  the  fire  him- 
self, designed  to  have  burned  a  third  heretic,  if  the 
humanity  of  the  multitude  had  not  been  greater 
than  his  own. 

t  This  short  tract,  which  will  be  found  among 
the  collected  works  of  Crellius,  in  the  Bibliotheca 
Fratrum  Polonorum,  contains  a  just  and  temperate 
pleading  for  religious  liberty,  but  little  which  can 
appear  very  striking  in  modern  times.  It  is  said, 
nevertheless,  to  have  been  translated  and  repub 
lished  by  D'Holbach  about  1760.  This  I  have  not 
seen  ;  but,  there  must.  I  presume,  have  been  a  good 
deal  of  condiment  added  to  make  it  stimulating 
enough  for  that  school. 


FROM  1600  TO  1650. 


ably  believe  that  a  considerable  part  of 
this  treatise  had  been  committed  to  paper 
long  before. 

53.  The   argument   of   this  important 

His  Liberty  DOO'C  rests  On  °ne  leacun§'  maxiIT1> 

ofProphe-  derived  from  the  Arminian  di- 
sying.  vines,  as  it  was  in  them  from 
Erasmus  and  Acontiiis,  that  the  funda- 
mental truths  of  Christianity  are  com- 
prised in  narrow  compass,  not  beyond  the 
Apostles'  Creed  in  its  literal  meaning; 
that  all  the  rest  is  matter  of  disputation, 
and  too  uncertain,  for  the  most  part,  to 
warrant  our  condemning  those  who  differ 
from  us,  as  if  their  error  must  be  criminal. 
This  one  proposition,  much  expanded,  ac- 
cording to  Taylor's  diffuse  style,  and  dis- 
played in  a  variety  of  language,  pervades 
the  whole  treatise  ;  a  small  part  of  which, 
in  comparison  to  the  rest,  bears  immedi- 
ately on  the  point  of  political  toleration, 
as  a  duty  of  civil  governments  and  of 
churches  invested  with  power.  In  the 
greater  portion,  Taylor  is  rather  arguing 
against  that  dogmatism  of  judgment  which 
induces  men,  either  singly  or  collectively, 
to  pronounce  with  confidence  where  only 
a  varying  probability  can  be  attained. 
This  spirit  is  the  religious,  though  not  en- 
tirely the  political,  motive  of  intolerance  ; 
and,  by  chasing  this  from  the  heart,  he  in- 
ferred, not  that  he  should  lay  wide  the  door 
to  universal  freedom,  but  dispose  the  ma- 
gistrate to  consider  more  equitably  the 
claims  of  every  sect.  "Whatsoever  is 
against  the  foundation  of  faith,  or  contrary 
to  good  life  and  the  laws  of  obedience,  or 
destructive  to  human  society,  and  the  pub- 
lic and  just  interests  of  bodies  politic,  is 
out  of  the  limits  of  my  question,  and  does 
not  pretend  to  compliance  or  toleration ; 
so  that  I  allow  no  indiffcrency,  nor  any 
countenance  to  those  religions  whose  prin- 
ciples destroy  government,  nor  to  those 
religions,  if  there  be  any  such,  that  teach 
ill  life." 

54.  No  man,  as  Taylor  here  teaches,  is 
Boldness  of    under  any  obligation  to  believe 
his  doctrines,  that  in  revelation  which  is  not 
so  revealed,  but  that  wise  men  and  good 
men  have  differed  in  their  opinions  about 
it.     And  the  great  variety  of  opinions  in 
churches,  and  even  in  the  same  church, 
"  there  being  none  that   is  in  prosperi- 
ty," as  he  with  rather  a  startling  boldness 
puts  it,   "but  changes  her  doctrines  ev- 
ery age,  either  by  bringing  in  new  doc- 
trines, or  contradicting  her  old,"  shows 
that  we  can  have  no  term  of  union  but 
that  wherein  all  agree,  the  creed  of  the 
apostles.*     And  hence,  though  we   may 


1  Since  no  churches  believe  themselves  infalli- 
ble, that  only  excepted  which  all  other  churches 
VOL.  II.— G 


undoubtedly  carry  on  our  own  private  in- 
quiries as  much  farther  as  we  see  reason, 
none  who  hold  this  fundamental  faith  are 
to  be  esteemed  heretics,  nor  liable  to  pun- 
ishment. And  here  he  proceeds  to  re- 
prove all  those  oblique  acts  which  are  not 
direct  persecutions  of  men's  persons,  the 
destruction  of  books,  the  forbidding  the 
publication  of  new  ones,  the  setting  out 
fraudulent  editions  and  similar  acts  of 
falsehood,  by  which  men  endeavour  to  sti- 
fle or  prevent  religious  inquiry.  "  It  is  a 
strange  industry  and  an  importune  dili- 
gence that  was  used  by  our  forefathers ; 
of  all  those  heresies  which  gave  them  bat- 
tle and  employment,  we  have  absolutely 
no  record  or  monument  but  what  them- 
selves, who  are  adversaries,  have  trans- 
mitted to  us  ;  and  we  know  that  adversa- 
ries, especially  such  who  observed  all  op- 
portunities to  discredit  both  the  persons 
and  doctrines  of  the  enemy,  are  not  al- 
ways the  best  records  or  witnesses  of 
such  transactions.  We  see  it  now  in  this 
very  age,  in  the  present  distemperatures, 
that  parties  are  no  good  registers  of.  the 
actions  of  the  adverse  side  ;  and  if  we  can- 
not be  confident  of  the  truth  of  a  story 
now,  now  1  say  that  it  is  possible  for  any 
man,  and  likely  that  the  interested  adver- 
sary will  discover  the  imposture,  it  is  far 
more  unlikely  that  after  ages  should  know 
any  other  truth  but  such  as  serves  the 
ends  of  the  represcnters."* 

55.  None  were  accounted  heretics  by 
the  primitive  Church  who  held  Hig  notions 
by  the  Apostles'  Creed,  till  the  of  uncertain- 
Council  of  Nice  defined  some  tv '"  llieo'°- 

.,  .  .    ,  .,       .     ,  _,  gical  tenets. 

things,  rightly  indeed,  as  Tay- 
lor  professes  to  believe,  but  perhaps  with 
too  much  alteration  of  the  simplicity  of 
ancient  faith,  so  that  "  he  had  need  be  a 
subtle  man  who  understands  the  very 
words  of  the  new  determinations."  And 
this  was  carried  much  farther  by  later 
councils,  and  in  the  Athanasian  Creed,  of 
which,  though  protesting  his  own  persua- 
sion in  its  truth,  he  intimates  not  a  little 
disapprobation.  The  necessary  articles 
of  faith  are  laid  down  clearly  in  Scripture  ; 
but  no  man  can  be  secure,  as  to  myste- 
rious points,  that  he  shall  certainly  under- 
stand and  believe  them  in  their  true  sense. 
This  he  shows  first  from  the  great  dis- 
crepancy of  reading  in  manuscripts  (an  ar- 


say  is  most  of  all  deceived,  it  were  strange  if,  in  so 
many  articles  which  make  up  their  several  bodies 
of  confessions,  they  had  not  mistaken,  every  one  of 
them,  in  some  thin?  or  other."  This  is  Taylor'8 
fearless  mode  of  grappling  with  his  argument ;  and 
any  other  must  give  a  church  that  claims  infalli- 
bility the  advantage. 
*  Vol.  vii.,  p.  424,  Heber's  edition  of  Taylor. 


50 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


gument  which  he  overstates  in  a  very  un- 
critical and  incautious  manner) ;  next  from 
the  different  senses  the  words  will  bear, 
which  there  is  no  certain  mark  to  distin- 
guish, the  infinite  variety  of  human  under- 
standings, swayed,  it  may  be,  by  interest, 
or  determined  by  accidental  and  extrinsi- 
cal circumstances,  and  the  fallibility  of 
those  means  by  which  men  hope  to  at- 
tain a  clear  knowledge  of  scriptural  truth. 
And  after  exposing,  certainly  with  no  ex- 
tenuation, the  difficulties  of  interpretation, 
he  concludes  that,  since  these  ordinary 
means  of  expounding  Scripture  are  very 
dubious,  "  he  that  is  the  wisest,  and,  by 
consequence,  the  likeliest  to  expound  tru- 
est, in  all  probability  of  reason,  will  be 
very  far  from  confidence  ;  and,  therefore, 
a  wise  man  would  not  willingly  be  pre- 
scribed to  by  others  ;  and  if  he  be  also  a 
just  man,  he  will  not  impose  upon  others  ; 
for  it  is  best  every  man  should  be  left  in 
that  liberty,  from  which  no  man  can  just- 
ly take  him,  unless  he  could  secure  him 
from  error ;  so  here  there  is  a  necessity  to 
conserve  the  liberty  of  prophesying  and  in- 
terpreting Scripture  ;  a  necessity  derived 
from  the  consideration  of  the  difficulty  of 
Scripture  in  questions  controverted,  and 
the  uncertainty  of  any  internal  medium  of 
interpretation. 

56.  Taylor  would  in  much  of  this  have 
Hisiowopin-  found  an  echo  in  the  advocates 
ion  of  the  fa-  of  the  Church  of  Rome,  and  in 
some  Protestants  of  his  own 
communion.  But  he  passes  onward  to  as- 
sail their  bulwarks.  Tradition,  or  the  tes- 
timony of  the  Church,  he  holds  insufficient 
and  uncertain,  for  the  reasons  urged  more 
fully  by  Daille  ;  the  authority  of  councils 
is  almost  equally  precarious,  from  their 
inconsistency,  their  liability  to  factious 
passions,  and  the  doubtful  authenticity  of 
some  of  their  acts ;  the  pope's  claim  to 
infallibility  is  combated  on  the  usual 
grounds ;  the  judgment  of  the  fathers  is 
shown  to  be  inconclusive  by  their  differ- 
ences among  themselves,  and  their  fre- 
quent errors  ;  and,  professing  a  desire  that 
"  their  great  reputation  should  be  preserv- 
ed as  sacred  as  it  ought,"  he  refers  the 
reader  to  Daille  for  other  things ;  and 
"  shall  only  consider  that  the  writings  of 
the  fathers  have  been  so  corrupted  by  the 
intermixture  of  heretics,  so  many  false 
books  put  forth  in  their  names,  so  many 
of  the  writings  lost  which  would  more 
clearly  have  explicated  their  sense, "and 
at  last  an  open  profession  made,  and  a 
trade  of  making  the  fathers  speak,  not 
what  themselves  thought,  but  what  other 
men  pleased,  that  it  is  a  great  instance  of 
God's  providence  and  care  of  his  Church 


that  we  have  so  much  good  preserved  in 
the  writings  which  we  receive  from  the 
fathers,  and  that  all  truth  is  not  as  clear 
gone-  as  is  the  certainty  of  their  great  au- 
thority and  reputation."* 

57.  The  authority  of  the  Church  cannot 
be  any  longer  alleged,  when  nei-  Difficulty 
ther  that  of  popes  and  councils  of  finding 
nor  of  ancient  fathers  is  maintain-  Ol 
able ;  since  the  diffusive  Church  has  no 
other  means  of  speaking,  nor  can  we  dis- 
tinguish by  any  extrinsic  test  the  greater 
or  better  portion  of  it  from  the  worse. 
And  thus,  after  dismissing  respectfully  the 
pretences  of  some  to  expound  Scripture 
by  the  Spirit  as  impertinent  to  the  ques- 
tion of  dictating  the  faith  of  others,  he 
comes  to  the  reason  of  each  man  as  the 
best  judge,  for  himself,  of  religious  contro- 
versies ;  reason,  that  may  be  exercised  ei- 
ther in  choosing  a  guide  if  it  feel  its  own 
incompetency,  or  in  examining  the  grounds 
of  belief.  The  latter  has  great  advan- 
tages, and  no  man  is  bound  to  know  any- 
thing of  that  concerning  which  he  is  not 
able  to  judge  for  himself.  But  reason  may 
err,  as  he  goes  on  to  prove,  without  being 
culpable  ;  that  which  is  plain  to  one  un- 
derstanding being  obscure  to  another ; 
and  among  various  sources  of  error  which 
he  enumerates  as  incidental  to  mankind, 
that  of  education  being  "  so  great  and  in- 
vincible a  prejudice,  that  he  who  masters 
the  inconvenience  of  it  is  more  to  be  com- 
mended than  he  can  justly  be  blamed  that 
complies  with  it."  And  thus  not  only  sin- 
gle men,  but  whole  bodies,  take  unhesita- 
tingly and  unanimously  opposite  sides 
from  those  who  have  imbibed  another 
kind  of  instruction ;  and  "  it  is  strange  that 
all  the  D.ominicans  should  be  of  one  opin- 
ion in  the  matter  of  predestination  and  im- 
maculate conception,  and  all  the  Francis- 
cans of  the  quite  contrary7,  as  if  their  un- 
derstandings were  formed  in  a  different 
mould,  and  furnished  with  various  princi- 
ples by  their  very  rule."  These  and  the 
like  prejudices  are  not  absolute  excuses 


*  It  seems  not  quite  easy  to  reconcile  this  with 
what  Taylor  has  just  before  said  of  his  desire  to  pre- 
serve the  reputation  of  the  fathers  sacred.  In  no 
writer  is  it  more  necessary  to  observe  the  animus 
with  which  he  writes  ;  for,  giving  way  to  his  im- 
petuosity, when  he  has  said  anything  that  would 
give  offence,  or  which  he  thought  incautious,  it  was 
not  his  custom,  so  far  as  we  can  judge,  to  expunge 
or  soften  it,  but  to  insert  something  else  of  an  op- 
posite colour,  without  taking  any  pains  to  harmo- 
nize his  context.  He  probably  revised  hardly  at  all 
what  he  had  written  before  it  went  to  the  press. 
This  makes  it  easy  to  quote  passages,  especially 
short  ones,  from  Taylor,  which  do  not  exhibit  his 
real  way  of  thinking;  if,  indeed,  his  way  of  thinking 
itself  did  not  vary  with  the  wind  that  blew  from 
different  regions  of  controversy. 


FROM  1600  TO  1650. 


to  every  one,  and  are  often  accompanied 
with  culpable  dispositions  of  mind ;  but 
the  impossibility  of  judging  others  ren- 
ders it  incumbent  on  us  to  be  lenient  to- 
wards all,  and  neither  to  be.  peremptory  in 
denying  that  those  who  differ  from  us  have 
used  the  best  means  in  their  power  to  dis- 
cover the  truth,  nor  to  charge  their  per- 
sons, whatever  we  may  their  opinions, 
with  odious  consequences  which  they  do 
not  avow. 

58.  This  diffuse  and  not  very  well  ar- 
Grounds  of  ranged  vindication  of  diversity  of 
toleration,    judgment  in  religion,  comprised 
in  the  first  twelve  sections  of  the  Liberty 
of  Prophesying,  is  the  proper  basis  of  the 
second  part,  which  maintains  the  justice 
of  toleration  as  a  consequence  of  the  for- 
mer principle.     The  general  arguments  or 
prejudices  on  which  punishment  for  reli- 
gious tenets  had  been  sustained,  turned  on 
their  criminality  in  the  eyes  of  God,  and 
the  duty  of  the  magistrates  to  sustain  God's 
honour  and  to  guard  his  own  subjects  from 
sfn.     Taylor,  not  denying  that  certain  and 
knoAvn  idolatry,  or  any  sort  of  practical 
impiety,  may  be  punished  corporeally,  be- 
cause it  is  matter  of  fact,  asserts  that  no 
matter  of  mere  opinion,  no  errors  that  of 
themselves  are  not  sins,  are  to  be  perse- 
cuted or  punished  by  death  or  corporeal  in- 
fliction.    He  returns  to  his  favourite  posi- 
tion, that  "  we  are  not  sure  not  to  be  de- 
ceived ;"  mingling  this,  in  that  inconse- 
quent allocation  of  his  proofs  which  fre- 
quently occurs  in  his  writings,  with  other 
arguments   of  a  different   nature.      The 
governors  of  the  Church,  indeed,  may  con- 
demn and  restrain,  as  far  as  their  power 
extends,  any  false  doctrines  which   en- 
courages evil  life,  or  destroys  the  founda- 
tions of  religion  ;  but  if  the  Church  med- 
dles farther  with  any  matters  of  question 
which  have  not  this  tendency,  so  as  to 
dictate  what  men  are  to  believe,  she  be- 
comes tyrannical  and   uncharitable ;  the 
Apostles'  Creed  being  sufficient  to  con- 
serve the  peace  of  the  Church  and  the  uni- 
ty of  her  doctrine.     And,  with  respect  to 
the  civil  magistrate,  he  concludes  that  he 
is  bound  to  suffer  the  profession  of  differ- 
ent opinions,  which  are  neither  directly 
impious  and  immoral,  nor  disturb  the  pub- 
lic peace. 

59.  The  seventeenth  chapter,  in  which 
inconsistency   Taylor  professes  to  consider 
of  one  chapter,  which   among    the    sects    of 
Christendom  are  to  be  tolerated,  and  in 
what  degree,  is  written  in  a  tone  not  easily 
reconciled  with  that  of  the  rest.     Though 
he  begins  by  saying  that  diversity  of  opin- 
ions does  more  concern  public  peace  than 
religion,  it  certainly  appears  in  some  pas- 


sages that,  on  this  pretext  of  peace,  which 
with  the  magistrate  has  generally  been  of 
more  influence  than  that  of  orthodoxy,  he 
withdraws  a  great  deal  of  that  liberty  of 
prophesying  which  he  has  been  so  broad- 
ly asserting.  Punishment  for  religious 
tenets  is  doubtless  not  at  all  the  same  as 
restraint  of  separate  worship  ;  yet  we  are 
not  prepared  for  the  shackles  he  seems  in- 
clined to  throw  over  the  latter.  Laws  of 
ecclesiastical  discipline,  which,  in  Tay- 
lor's age,  were  understood  to  be  binding 
on  the  whole  community,  cannot,  he  holds, 
be  infringed  by  those  who  take  occasion 
to  disagree,  without  rendering  authority 
contemptible ;  and  if  there  are  any  as 
zealous  for  obedience  to  the  Church,  as 
others  may  be  for  their  opinions  against 
it,  the  toleration  of  the  latter's  disobe- 
dience may  give  offence  to  the  former :  an 
argument  strange  enough  in  this  treatise ! 
But  Taylor  is  always  more  prone  to  ac- 
cumulate reasons  than  to  sift  their  effi- 
ciency. It  is,  indeed,  he  thinks,  worthy  to 
be  considered  in  framing  a  law  of  church 
discipline,  whether  it  will  be  disliked  by 
any  who  are  to  obey  it ;  but,  after  it  is 
once  enacted,  there  seems  no  farther  in- 
dulgence practicable  than  what  the  gov- 
ernors of  the  Church  may  grant  to  partic- 
ular persons  by  dispensation.  The  laws 
of  discipline  are  for  the  public  good,  and 
must  not  so  far  tolerate  a  violation  of 
themselves  as  to  destroy  the  good  that  the 
public  ought  to  derive  from  them.* 

6.0.  I  am  inclined  to  suspect  that  Tay- 
lor, for  some  cause,  interpolated  His  general 
this  chapter  after  the  rest  of  the  defence  of 
treatise  was  complete.  It  has  toleration- 
as  little  bearing  upon,  and  is  as  inconsist- 
ent in  spirit  with,  the  following  sections 
as  with  those  that  precede.  To  use  a  fa- 
miliar illustration,  the  effect  it  produces 
on  the  reader's  mind  is  like  that  of  com- 
ing on  deck  at  sea,  and  finding  that,  the 
ship  having  put  about,  the  whole  line  of 
coast  is  reversed  to  the  eye.  Taylor, 
however,  makes  but  a  short  tack.  In  the 
next  section  he  resumes  the  bold  tone  of 
an  advocate  for  freedom ;  and,  after  dis- 
cussing at  great  length  the  leading  tenet 
of  the  Anabaptists,  concludes  that,  resting 
as  it  does  on  such  plausible  though  insuf- 


*  This  single  chapter  is  of  itself  conclusive 
against  the  truth  of  Taylor's  own  allegation  that  he 
wrote  his  Liberty  of  Prophesying  in  order  to  pro- 
cure toleration  for  the  Episcopal  Church  of  Eng- 
land at  the  hands  of  those  who  had  overthrown  it. 
No  one  ever  dreamed  of  refusing  freedom  of  opin- 
ion to  that  church  :  it  was  only  about  public  wor- 
ship that  any  difficulty  could  arise.  But,  in  truth, 
there  is  not  one  word  in  the  whole  treatise  which 
could  have  been  written  with  the  view  that  Taylor 
pretends. 


52 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


ficient  grounds,  we  cannot  exclude  it  by 
any  means  from  toleration,  though  they 
may  be  restrained  from  preaching  their 
other  notions  of  the  unlawfulness  of  war, 
or  of  oaths,  or  of  capital  punishment ;  it 
being  certain  that  no  good  religion  teaches 
doctrines  whose  consequences  would  de- 
stroy all  government.  A  more  remarka- 
ble chapter  is  that  in  which  Taylor  con- 
cludes in  favour  of  tolerating  the  Roman- 
ists, except  when  they  assert  the  pope's 
power  of  deposing  princes  or  of  dispen- 
sing with  oaths.  The  result  of  all,  he 
says,  is  this  :  "  Let  the  prince  and  the  sec- 
ular power  have  a  care  the  commonwealth 
be  safe.  For  whether  such  or  such  a 
sect  of  Christians  be  to  be  permitted,  is  a 
question  rather  political  than  religious." 

61.  In  the  concluding  sections  he  main- 
tains Ihe  right  of  particular  churches  to 
admit  all  who  profess  the  Apostles'  Creed 
to  their  communion,  and  of  private  men 
to  communicate  with  different  churches, 
if  they  require  no  unlawful  condition.    But 
"  few  churches,  that  have  framed  bodies 
of  confession  and  articles,  will  endure  any 
person  that  is  not  of  the  same  confession ; 
which  is  a  plain  demonstration  that  such 
bodies  of  confession  and  articles  do  much 
hurt."    "  The  guilt  of  schism  may  lie  on 
him  who  least  thinks  it ;  he  being  rather 
the  schismatic  who  makes  unnecessary 
and  inconvenient  impositions  than  he  who 
disobeys  them,  because  he  cannot  do  oth- 
erwise without  violating  his  conscience."* 
The   whole  treatise  on   the   Liberty  of 
Prophesying  ends  with  the  celebrated  par- 
able of  Abraham,  found,  as  Taylor  says, 
"in  the  Jews'  books,"  but  really  in  an 
Arabian  writer.     This  story  Franklin,  as 
every  one  now  knows,   rather  unhand- 
somely appropriated  to  himself;  and  it  is 
a  strange  proof  of  the  ignorance  as  to  our 
earlier  literature  which  then  prevailed,  that 
for  many  years  it  continued  to  be  quoted 
with  his  name.     It  was  not  contained  in 
the  first  editions  of  the  Liberty  of  Proph- 
esying ;  and,  indeed,  the  book  from  which 
Taylor  is  supposed  to  have  borrowed  it 
was  not  published  till  1651. 

62.  Such  is  this  great  pleading  for  reli- 
gious moderation  ;  a  production  not  more 
remarkable  in  itself  than  for  the  quarter 
from  which  it  came.     In  the  polemical 
writings  of  Jeremy  Taylor  we  generally 
find  a  stanch  and  uncompromising  adhe- 
rence to  one  party ;  and  from  the  abundant 
use  he  makes  of  authority,  we  should  in- 
fer that  he  felt  a  great  veneration  for  it. 


'This  is  said  also  by  Hales,  in  his  tract  on 
Schism,  which  was  published  some  years  before 
the  Liberty  of  Prophesying.  It  is,  however,  what 
l  aylor  would  have  thought  without  a  prompter. 


In  the  Liberty  of  Prophesying,  as  has  ap- 
peared by  the  general  sketch,  rather  than 
analysis,  we  have  just  given,  there  is  a 
prevailing  tinge  of  the  contrary  turn  of 
mind,  more  striking  than  the  comparison 
of  insulated  passages  can  be.  From  what 
motives,  and  under  what  circumstances 
this  treatise  was  written,  is  not  easily  dis- 
cerned. In  the  dedication  to  Lord  Hatton 
of  the  collective  edition  of  his  controver- 
sial writings  after  the  Restoration,  he  de- 
clares that  "  when  a  persecution  did  arise 
against  the  Church  of  England,  he  intend- 
ed to  make  a  reservative  for  his  brethren 
and  himself,  by  pleading  for  a  liberty  to 
our  consciences  to  persevere  in  that  pro- 
fession which  was  warranted  by  all  the 
laws  of  God  and  our  superiors/'  It  is 
with  regret  we  are  compelled  to  confess 
some  want  of  ingenuousness  in  this  part 
of  Taylor's  proceedings.  No  one  reading 
the  Liberty  of  Prophesying  can  perceive- 
that  it  had  the  slightest  bearing  on  any 
toleration  that  the  Episcopal  Church,  in 
the  time  of  the  Civil  War,  might  ask  of  her 
victorious  enemies.  The  differences  be- 
tween them  were  not  on  speculative  points 
of  faith,  nor  turning  on  an  appeal  to  fa- 
thers and  councils.  That  Taylor  had  an- 
other class  of  controversies  in  his  mind  is 
sufficiently  obvious  to  the  attentive  reader, 
and  T  can  give  no  proof  in  this  place  to 
any  other. 

63.  This  was  the  third  blow  that  the 
new    latitudinarian    school    of  Effect  of  thia 
Leyden  had  aimed  in  England  tr(;atite 

at  the  positive  dogmatists,  who,  in  all  the 
Reformed  Churches,  as  in  that  of  Rome, 
laboured  to  impose  extensive  confessions 
of  faith,  abounding  in  inferences  of  scho- 
lastic theology,  as  conditions  of  exterior 
communion,  and  as  peremptory  articles  of 
faith.  Chillingworlh  and  Hales  were  not 
less  decisive ;  but  the  former  had  but  in 
an  incidental  manner  glanced  at  the  sub- 
ject, and  the  short  tract  on  Schism  had 
been  rather  deficient  in  proof  of  its  hardy 
paradoxes.  Taylor,  therefore,  may  be  said 
to  have  been  the  first  who  sapped  and 
shook  the  foundations  of  dogmatism  and 
pretended  orthodoxy  ;  the  first  who  taught 
men  to  seek  peace  in  unity  of  spirit  rather 
than  of  belief ;  and,  instead  of  extinguish- 
ing dissent,  to  take  away  its  sting  by 
charity,  and  by  a  sense  of  human  fallibili- 
ty. The  mind,  thus  freed  from  bigotry,  is 
best  prepared  for  the  public  toleration  of 
differences  in  religion ;  but  certainly  the 
despotic  and  jealous  temper  of  govern- 
ments is  not  so  well  combated  by  Taylor 
as  by  later  advocates  of  religious  freedom. 

64.  In  conducting  his  argument,  he  falla 
not  unfrequently  into  his  usual  fault.    En- 


FROM  1600  TO  1650. 


53 


its  defects,  dowed  with  a  miud  of  prodigious 
fertility,  which  a  vast  erudition 
rendered  more  luxuriant,  he  accumulates 
•without  selection  whatever  presents  itself 
to  his  mind ;  his  innumerable  quotations, 
his  multiplied  reasonings,  his  prodigality 
of  epithets  and  appositions,  are  poured 
along  the  interminable  periods  of  his  wri- 
tings with  a  frequency  of  repetition,  some- 
times of  the  same  phrases,  which  leaves 
us  to  suspect  that  he  revised  but  little 
what  he  had  very  rapidly  composed.  Cer- 
tain it  is  that,  in  his  different  works,  he 
does  not  quite  adhere  to  himself;  and  it 
would  be  more  desirable  to  lay  this  on  the 
partial  views  that  haste  and  impetuosity 
produce,  than  on  a  deliberate  employment 
of  what  he  knew  to  be  insufficient  reason- 
ing. But  I  must  acknowledge  that  Tay- 
lor's fairness  does  not  seem  his  character 
istic  quality. 

65.  In  some  passages  of  the  Liberty  of 
Prophesying,  he  seems  to  exaggerate  the 
causes  of  uncertainty,  and  to  take  away 
from    ecclesiastical   antiquity   even   that 
moderate  probability  of  truth  which  a  dis- 
passionate inquirer  may  sometimes  assign 
to  it.     His  suspicions  of  spuriousntfss  and 
interpolation   are   too  vaguely  skeptical, 
and  come  ill  from  one  who  has  no  sort  of 
hesitation,  in  some  of  his  controversies, 
to  allege  as  authority  what  he  here  sets 
aside  with  little  ceremony.     Thus,  in  the 
Defence  of  Episcopacy,  published  in  1642, 
he  maintains  the  authenticity  of  the  first 
fifty  of  the  apostolic  canons,  all  of  which, 
in  the  Liberty  of  Prophesying,  a  very  few 
years  afterward,  he   indiscriminately  re- 
jects.    But  this  line  of  criticism  was  not 
then  in  so  advanced  a  state  as  at  present ; 
and,  from  a  credulous  admission  of  every- 
thing, the  learned  had  come  sometimes  to 
more  sweeping  charges  of  interpolation 
and  forgery  than  would  be  sustained  on  a 
more   searching  investigation.     Taylor's 
language  is  so  unguarded  that  he  seems 
to  leave  the  authenticity  of  all  the  fathers 
precarious.     Doubtless  there  is  a  greater 
want  of  security  as  to  books  written  be- 
fore the  invention  of  printing  than  we  are 
apt  to  conceive,  especially   where  inde- 
pendent manuscripts  have  not  been  found  ; 
but  it  is  the  business  of  a  sagacious  criti- 
cism, by  the  aid  of  internal  or  collateral 
evidence,  to  distinguish,  not  dogmatically, 
as  most  are  wont,  but  with  a  rational 
though  limited   assent,   the   genuine  re- 
mains of  ancient  writers  from  the  incrus- 
tations of  blundering  or  of  imposture. 

66.  A  prodigious  reach  of  learning  dis- 
Createrum-  tinguishes    the    theologians  of 
tion  of  tms  these  fifty  years,  far  greater  than 

even  in  the  sixteenth  century ; 


and  also,  if  I  am  not  mistaken,  more  criti- 
cal and  pointed,  though  in  these  latter  qual- 
ities it  was  afterward  surpassed.  And  in 
this  erudition  the  Protestant  churches,  we 
may  perhaps  say,  were,  upon  the  whole, 
more  abundant  than  that  of  Rome.  But  it 
would  be  unprofitable  to  enumerate  works 
which  we  are  incompetent  to  appreciate. 
Blondel,  Daille,  and  Salmasius  on  the  Con- 
tinent, Usher  in  England,  are  the  most 
conspicuous  names.  Blondel  sustained 
the  equality  of  the  apostolic  Church  both 
against  the  primacy  of  Rome  and  the 
episcopacy  for  which  the  Anglicans  con- 
tended ;  Salmasius  and  Daille  fought  on 
the  same  side  in  that  controversy.  The 
writings  of  our  Irish  primate,  usher. 
Usher,  who  maintained  the  anti-  1'utavms. 
quity  of  his  order,  but  not  upon  such  high 
ground  as  many  in  England  would  have 
desired,  are  known  for  their  extraordinary 
learning,  in  which  he  has,  perhaps,  never 
been  surpassed  by  an  English  writer. 
But  for  judgment  and  calm  appreciation 
of  evidence,  the  name  of  Usher  has  not 
been  altogether  so  much  respected  by 
posterity  as  it  was  by  his  contemporaries. 
The  Church  of  Rome  had  its  champions 
of  less  eminent  renown  :  Gretser,  perhaps 
the  first  among  them,  is  not  very  familiar 
to  our  ears ;  but  it  is  to  be  remembered 
that  some  of  the  writings  of  Bellarmin  fall 
within  this  period.  The  Dogmata  Theo- 
logica  of  the  Jesuit  Petavius,  though  but 
a  compilation  from  the  fathers  and  an- 
cient councils,  and  not  peculiarly  directed 
against  the  tenets  of  the  reformed,  may 
deserve  mention  as  a  monument  of  useful 
labour.  *  Labbe,  Sirmond,  and  several  oth- 
ers appear  to  range  more  naturally  under 
the  class  of  historical  than  theological 
writers.  In  mere  ecclesiastical  history — 
the  records  of  events  rather  than  opinions 
— this  period  was  far  more  critical  than  the 
preceding.  The  annals  of  Baronius  were 
abridged  and  continued  by  Spondanus. 

67.  A  numerous  list  of  writers  in  sacred 
criticism  might  easily  be  produ-  gacred  crit- 
ced.  Among  the  Romanists,  >«»•»>. 
Cornelius  a  Lapide  has  been  extolled 
above  the  rest  by  his  fellow-Jesuit  An- 
dres. His  Commentaries,  published  from 
1617  to  1642,  are  reckoned  by  others  too 
diffuse  ;  but  he  seems  to  have  a  fair  repu- 
tation with  Protestant  critics. f  The  Lu- 
therans extol  Gerhard,  and  especially 


*  The  Dogmata  Theologica  is  not  a  complete 
work ;  it  extends  only  as  far  as  the  head  of  free- 
will. It  belongs  to  the  class  of  Loci  Communes. — 
Morhof,  ii.,539. 

t  Andres.  Blount.  Simon,  however,  says  he  is 
full  of  an  erudition  not  to  the  purpose,  which,  as 
his  Commentaries  on  the  Scriptures  run  to  twelve 
volumes,  is  not  wonderful. 


54 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


Glass,  author  of  the  Philologia  Sacra,  in 
hermeneutical  theology.  Rivet  was  the 
highest  name  among  the  Calvinists.  Ar- 
minius,  Episcopius,  the  Fratres  Poloni, 
and,  indeed,  almost  every  one  who  had  to 
defend  a  cause,  found  no  course  so  ready, 
at  least  among  Protestants,  as  to  explain 
the  Scriptures  consistently  with  his  own 
tenets.  Two  natives  of  Holland,  opposite 
in  character,  in  spirit,  and  principles  of 
reasoning,  and,  consequently,  the  found- 
ers of  opposite  schools  of  disciples,  stand 
Grotius.  out  from  the  rest — Grotius  and 
coccejus.  Coccejus.  Luther,  Calvin,  and 
the  generality  of  Protestant  interpreters 
in  the  sixteenth  century  had,  in  most  in- 
stances, rejected,  with  some  contempt,  the 
allegorical  and  multifarious  senses  of 
Scripture  which  had  been  introduced  by 
the  fathers,  and  had  prevailed  through  the 
dark  ages  of  the  Church.  This  adherence 
to  the  literal  meaning  was  doubtless  pro- 
moted by  the  tenet  they  all  professed,  the 
facility  of  understanding  Scripture.  That 
which  was  designed  for  the  simple  and  il- 
literate was  not  to  require  a  key  to  any 
esoteric  sense.  Grotius,  however,  in  his 
Annotations  on  the  Old  and  New  Testa- 
ments, published  in  1633 — the  most  re- 
markable book  of  this  kind  that  had  ap- 
peared, and  which  has  had  a  more  durable 
reputation  than  any,  perhaps,  of  its  pre- 
cursors—carried the  system  of  literal  in- 
terpretation still  farther,  bringing  great 
stores  of  illustrative  learning  from  profane 
antiquity,  but  merely  to  elucidate  the  pri- 
mary meaning,  according  to  ordinary  rules 
of  criticism.  Coccejus  followed  a  wholly 
opposite  course.  Every  passage,  in  his 
method,  teemed  with  hidden  senses  ;  the 
narratives,  least  capable  of  any  ulterior 
application,  were  converted  into  typical 
allusions,  so  that  the  Old  Testament  be- 
came  throughout  an  enigmatical  repre- 
sentation of  the  New.  He  was  also  re- 
markable for  having  viewed,  more  than 
any  preceding  writer,  all  the  relations  be- 
tween God  and  man  under  the  form  of 
covenants,  and  introduced  the  technical 
language  of  jurisprudence  into  theology. 
This  became  a  very  usual  mode  of  treat- 
ing the  subject  in  Holland,  and  afterward 
in  England.  The  Coccejans  were  numer- 
ous in  the  United  Provinces,  though  not, 
perhaps,  fleemed  quite  so  orthodox  as  their 
adversaries,  who,  from  Gisbert  Voet,  a 
theologian  of  the  most  inflexible  and  po- 
lemical spirit,  were  denominated  Voetians. 
Their  disputes  began  a  little  before  the 
middle  of  the  century,  and  lasted  till  near- 
ly its  close.*  The  Summa  Doctrinse  of 


*  Eichhorn.  vi..  nt.  i.,  D.  264.    Mosheim. 


Coccejus  appeared  in  1648,  and  the  Dis- 
sertationes  Theologicae  of  Voet  in  1649. 

68.  England  gradually  took  a  prominent 
share  in  this  branch  of  sacred  English  com- 
literature.     Among  the  divines  mediators, 
of  this  period,  comprehending  the  reigns 
of  James  and  Charles,  we  may  mention 
Usher,  Gataker,  Mede,  Lightfoot,  Jackson, 
Field,  and  Leigh.*     Gataker  stood,  per- 
haps, next  to  Usher  in  general  erudition. 
The  fame  of  Mede  has  rested,  for  the 
most  part,  on  his  interpretations  of  the 
Apocalypse.     This  book  had  been  little 
commented  upon  by  the  reformers  ;  but, 
in  the  beginning  of  the  seventeenth  cen- 
tury, several  wild  schemes  of  its  applica- 
tion to  present  or  expected  events  had 
been  broached  in  Germany.     England  had 
also  taken  an  active  part,  if  it  be  true, 
what  Grotius  tells  us,  that  eighty  books 
on  the  prophecies  had  been  published  here 
before  1640. f    Those  of  Mede  have  been 
received  with  favour  by  later  interpreters. 
Lightfoot,  with  extensive  knowledge  of 
the  rabbinical  writers,  poured  his  copious 
stores  on  Jewish  antiquities,  preceded  in 
this  by  a  more  obscure  labourer  in  that 
region,  A  ins  worth.     Jackson  had  a  con- 
siderable name,  but  is  little  read,  I  sup- 
pose, in  the  present  age.     Field  on  the 
Church  has  been  much  praised  by  Cole- 
ridge ;  it  is,  as  it  seemed  to  me,  a  more 
temperate  work  in  ecclesiastical  theory 
than  some  have  represented  it  to  be,  and 
written    almost    wholly    against    Rome. 
Leigh's  Critica  Sacra  can  hardly  be  reck- 
oned, nor  does  it  claim  to  be,  more  than  a 
compilation  from  earlier  theologians  :  it  is 
an  alphabetical  series  of  words  from  the 
Hebrew  and  Greek  Testaments,  the  au- 
thor candidly  admitting  that  he  was  not 
very  conversant  with  the  latter  language. 

69.  The  style  of  preaching  before  the 
Reformation  had  been  often  little  style  of 
else  than  buffoonery,  and  seldom  preaching, 
respectable.      The   German  sermons  of 
Tauler,  in    the    fourteenth    century,  are 
alone  remembered.     For  the  most  part, 


*  "  All  confess,"  says  Selden,  in  the  Table-talk, 
there  never  was  a  more  learned  clergy  :  no  man 
taxes  them  with  ignorance."  In  another  place,  in- 
deed, he  is  represented  to  say,  "  The  Jesuits  and 
the  lawyers  of  France,  and  the  Low  Countrymen 
have  engrossed  all  learning;  <he  rest  of  the  world 
make  nothing  but  homilies."  As  far  as  these  sen- 
tences are  not  owing  to  difference  of  humour  in  the 
time  of  speaking,  he  seems  to  have  taken  learning 
in  a  larger  sense  the  second  time  than  the  first.  Of 
learning  not  theological  the  English  clergy  had  no 
extraordinary  portion. 

t  Si  qua  in  re  libera  esse  debet  sententia,  certe  in 
vaticiniis,  prsesertim  cum  jam  Protestantium  libri 
prodierint  fermo  centum  (in  his  octoginta  in  Anglaj 
sola,  ut  mihi  Anglici  legati  dixere),  super  illis  re 
bus,  inter  se  plurimum  discordes.— Grot.,  Epist.  805 


FROM  1600  TO  1650. 


55 


fndeed,  the  clergy  wrote  in  Latin  what 
they  delivered  to  the  multitude  in  the  na- 
tive tongue.  A  better  tone  began  with 
Luther.  His  language  was  sometimes 
rude  and  low,  but  persuasive,  artless, 
powerful.  He  gave  many  useful  precepts, 
as  well  as  examples,  for  pulpit  eloquence. 
Melanchthon  and  several  others,  both  in 
the  sixteenth  and  seventeenth  centuries, 
as  well  in  the  Lutheran  as  the  Reformed 
Chnrch,  endeavoured,  by  systematic  trea- 
tises, to  guide  the  composition  of  sermons. 
The  former  could  not,  however,  withstand 
the  formal,  tasteless,  and  polemical  spirit 
that  overspread  their  theology.  In  the 
latter  a  superior  tone  is  perceived.  Of 
these,  according  to  Eichhorn,  the  Swiss 
preachers  were  most  simple  and  popular, 
the  Dutch  most  learned  and  copious,  the 
French  had  most  taste  and  eloquence,  the 
English  most  philosophy.*  It  is  more 
than  probable  that  in  these  characteristics 
he  has  meant  to  comprise  the  whole  of 
the  seventeenth  century.  Few  Conti- 
nental writers,  as  far  as  I  know,  that  be- 
long to  this  its  first  moiety,  have  earned 
any  remarkable  reputation  in  this  province 
of  theology.  In  England  several  might  be 
distinguished  out  of  a  large  number.  Ser- 
Engiish  mons  have  been  much  more  fre- 
eermons.  quently  published  here  than  in 
any  other  country ;  and,  from  the  begin- 
ning of  the  seventeenth  century,  form  a 
large  proportion  of  our  theological  litera- 
ture. But  it  is,  of  course,  not  requisite  to 
mention  more  than  the  very  few  which 
may  be  said  to  have  a  general  reputation. 
70.  The  sermons  of  Donne  have  some- 

0  D         times  been  praised  in  late  times. 

They  are  undoubtedly  the  pro- 
ductions of  a  very  ingenious  and  a  very 
learned  man  ;  and  two  folio  volumes  by 
such  a  person  may  be  expected  to  supply 
favourable  specimens.  In  their  general 
character,  they  will  not  appear,  I  think, 
much  worthy  of  being  rescued  from  ob- 
livion. The  subtlety  of  Donne,  and  his 
fondness  for  such  inconclusive  reasoning 
as  a  subtle  disputant  is  apt  to  fall  into, 
runs  through  all  of  these  sermons  at  which 

1  have  looked.     His  learning  he  seems  to 
have  perverted,  in  order  to  cull  every  im- 
pertinence of  the  fathers  and  schoolmen, 
their  remote  analogies,  their  strained  alle- 
gories, their  technical  distinctions  :  and  to 
these  he  has  added  much  of  a  similar  kind 
from  his  own  fanciful  understanding.     In 
his  theology  Donne  appears  often  to  in- 
cline towards  the  Arminian  hypotheses, 
which,  in  the  last  years  of  James  and  the 
first  of  his  son,  the  period  in  which  these 

*  Eichhorn,  t.  vi.,  part  ii.,  p.  219,  et  post. 


sermons  were  chiefly  preached,  had  begun 
to  be  accounted  orthodox  at  court ;  but  I 
will  not  vouch  for  his  consistency  in  every 
discourse.  Much,  as  usual  in  that  age,  is 
levelled  against  Rome  :  Donne  was  con- 
spicuously learned  in  that  controversy ; 
and.  though  he  talks  with  great  respect  of 
antiquity,  is  not  induced  by  it,  like  some 
of  his  Anglican  contemporaries,  to  make 
any  concession  to  the  adversary.* 

71.  The  sermons  of  Jeremy  Taylor  are 
of  much  higher  reputation ;  far,  or  Jeremy 
indeed,  above  any  that  had  pre-  Taylor, 
ceded  them  in  the  English  Church.  An 
imagination  essentially  poetical,  and  spa- 
ring none  of  the  decorations  which,  by 
critical  rules,  are  deemed  almost  peculiar 
to  verse  ;  a  warm  tone  of  piety,  sweet- 
ness, and  charity ;  an  accumulation  of  cir- 
cumstantial accessories  whenever  he  rea- 
sons, or  persuades,  or  describes  ;  an  eru- 
dition pouring  itself  forth  in  quotation,  till 
his  sermons  become,  in  some  places,  al- 
most a  garland  of  flowers  from  all  other 
writers,  and  especially  from  those  of  classi- 
cal antiquity,  never  before  so  redundantly 
scattered  from  the  pulpit,  distinguish  Tay- 
lor from  his  contemporaries  by  their  de- 
gree, as  they  do  from  most  of  his  suc- 
cessors by  their  kind.  His  sermons  on 
the  Marriage  Ring,  on  the  House  of  Feast- 
ing, on  the  Apples  of  Sodom,  may  be 
named  without  disparagement  to  others, 
which,  perhaps,  ought  to  stand  in  equal 
place.  But  they  are  not  without  consid- 
erable faults,  some  of  which  have  just 
been  hinted.  The  eloquence  of  Taylor  is 
great,  but  it  is  not  eloquence  of  the  high- 
est class  ;  it  is  far  too  Asiatic,  too  much 
in  the  style  of  Chrysostom  and  other  de- 
claimers  of  the  fourth  century,  by  the 
study  of  whom  he  had  probably  vitiated 
his  taste  ;  his  learning  is  ill-placed,  and 
his  arguments  often  as  much  so  ;  not  to 
mention  that  he  has  the  common  defect 
of  alleging  nugatory  proofs  ;  his  vehe- 
mence loses  its  effect  by  the  circuity  of 
his  pleonastic  language  ;  his  sentences 
are  of  endless  length,  and  hence  not  only 
altogether  unmusical,  but  not  always  re- 
ducible to  grammar.  But  he  is  still  the 
greatest  ornament  of  the  English  pulpit 


*  Donne  incurred  some  scandal  by  a  book  enti- 
tled Biathanatos,  and  considered  as  a  vindication 
of  suicide.  It  was  published  long  after  his  death, 
in  1651.  It  is  a  very  dull  and  pedantic  perform- 
ance, without  the  ingenuity  and  acuteness  of  para- 
dox ;  distinctions,  objections,  and  quotations  from 
the  rabble  of  bad  authors  whom  he  used  to  read,  fill 
up  the  whole  of  it.  It  is  impossible  to  find  a  less 
clear  statement  of  argument  on  either  side.  No 
one  would  be  induced  to  kill  himself  by  reading 
such  a  book,  unless  he  were  threatened  with  an- 
other volume. 


56 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


up  to  the  middle  of  the  seventeenth  cen- 
tury ;  and  we  have  no  reason  to  believe, 
or,  rather,  much  reason  to  disbelieve,  that 
he  had  any  competitor  in  other  languages. 

72.  The  devotional  writings  of  Taylor, 
Devotional  several  of  which  belong  to  the 
•writings or  first  part  of  the  century,  are  by 
Taylor       no  means  of  less  celebrity   or 
less  value  than  his  sermons.     Such  are 
the  Life  of  Christ,  the  Holy  Living  and 
Dying,  and  the  collection  of  meditations 

„   called  the  Golden  Grove.     A  wri- 

anu  Hall.  ,.   , .         .   ,      ,    .  ,          /. 

ter  as  distinguished  m  works  of 
practical  piety  was  Hall.  His  Art  of  Di- 
vine Meditation,  his  Contemplations,  and, 
indeed,  many  of  his  writings,  remind  us 
frequently  of  Taylor.  Both  had  equally 
pious  and  devotional  tempers  ;  both  were 
full  of  learning,  both  fertile  of  illustra- 
tion ;  both  may  be  said  to  have  had 
strong  imagination  and  poetical  genius, 
though  Taylor  let  his  predominate  a  little 
more.  Taylor  is  also  rather  more  subtle 
and  argumentative  ;  his  copiousness  has 
more  real  variety.  Hall  keeps  more  close- 
ly to  his  subject,  dilates  upon  it  sometimes 
more  tediously,  but  more  appositely.  In 
his  sermons  there  is  some  excess  of  quo- 
tation and  far-fetched  illustration,  but  less 
than  in  those  of  Taylor.  These  two  great 
divines  resemble  each  other,  on  the  whole, 
so  much,  that  we  might,  for  a  short  time, 
not  discover  which  we  were  reading.  I 
do  not  know  that  any  third  writer  comes 
close  to  either.  The  Contemplations  of 
Hall  are  among  his  most  celebrated  works. 
They  are  prolix,  and  without  much  of  that 
vivacity  or  striking  novelty  we  meet  with 
in  the  devotional  writings  of  his  contem- 
porary, but  are,  perhaps,  more  practical 
and  generally  edifying.* 

73.  The  religious  treatises  of  this  class, 
in  the  Ro-  even  those  which,  by  their  for- 
mer popularity  or   then   merit, 

ought  to  be  mentioned  in  a  regulai  histo- 
ry of  theological  literature,  are  too  nu- 
merous for  these  pages.  A  mystical  and 
ascetic  spirit  diffused  itself  more  over  re- 
ligion, struggling  sometimes,  as  in  the 
Lutherans  of  Germany,  against  the  formal 
orthodoxy  of  the  Church,  but  more  often 
in  subordination  to  its  authority,  and  co- 
operating with  its  functions.  The  wri- 
tings of  St.  Francis  de  Sales,  titular  bishop 
of  Geneva,  especially  that  on  the  Love  of 
God,  published  in  1616,  make  a  sort  of 
epoch  in  the  devotional  theology  of  the 
Church  of  Rome.  Those  of  St.  Teresa, 
in  the  Spanish  language,  followed  some 


*  Some  of  the  moral  writings  of  Hall  were 
translated  into  French  by  Chevreau  in  the  seven- 
teenth century,  and  had  much  success.— Niceron, 
zi.|  348. 


years  afterward  ;  they  are  altogether  full 
of  a  mystical  theopathy.  But  De  Sales 
included  charity  in  his  scheme  of  divine 
love ;  and-  it  is  to  him,  as  well  as  others 
of  his  age,  that  not  only  a  striking  revival 
of  religion  in  France,  which  had  been  ab- 
solutely perverted  or  disregarded  in  the 
sixteenth  century,  was  due,  but  a  reforma 
tion  in  the  practices  of  monastic  life,  which 
became  more  active  and  beneficent,  with 
less  of  useless  penance  and  asceticism 
than  before.  New  institutions  sprung  up 
with  the  spirit  of  association,  and  all  other 
animating  principles  of  conventual  orders, 
but  free  from  the  formality  and  torpor  of 
the  old.* 

74.  Even  in  the  German  churches,  rigid 
as  they  generally  were  in  their  and  Luther, 
adherence    to    the    symbolical  an  church, 
books,  some  voices,  from   time  to  time, 
were  heard  for  a  more  spiritual  and  ef- 
fective   religion.      Arndt's    Treatise    of 
True  Christianity,  in  1605,  written  on  as- 
cetic and  devotional  principles,  and  with 
some   deviation   from   the  tenets  of  the 
very  orthodox  Lutherans,  may  be  reck- 
oned one  of  the  first  protests  against  their 
barren  forms  of  faith  ;f  and  the  mystical 
theologians,  if  they  had  not  run  into  such 
extravagances  as  did  dishonour  to  their , 
name,  would  have  been  accessions  to  the 
same  side.     The  principal  mystics  or  the- 
osophists  have  generally  been   counted 
among  philosophers,  and  will  therefore 
find  their  place  in  the  next  chapter.     The 
German  nation  is  constitutionally  dispo- 
sed •  to  receive  those  forms  of  religion 
which  address  themselves  to  the  imagi- 
nation and  the  heart.     Much,  therefore, 
of  this  character  has  always  been  written, 
and   become  popular,  in   that   language. 
Few   English  writings   of   the    practical 
class,   except  those    already  mentioned, 
can   be  said   to  retain   much   notoriety. 
Those  of  George  Herbert  are  best  known ; 
his  Country  Parson,  which  seems  proper- 
ly to  fall  within  this  description,  is,  on  the 
whole,  a  pleasing  little  book  ;  but  the  pre- 
cepts are  sometimes  so  overstrained  as  to 
give  an  air  of  affectation. 

75.  The  disbelief  in  revelation,  of  which 
several  symptoms   had   appeared  infideij,y 
before  the   end   of  the   sixteenth  or  somo 
century,  became  more  remarkable  »'riters- 
afterward  both  in  France  and  Eng- 

land,  involving  several  names  not  ob- 
scure in  literary  history.  The  first,  of 
these,  in  point  of  date,  is  Charron.  The 
religious  skepticism  of  this  writer  has  not 
been  generally  acknowledged,  and,  indeed, 

*  Ranke,  ii.,  430. 

t  Eichhorn,  vi.,  part  i.,  355.    Biogr.  Univ.    Chal- 
mers. 


FROM  1600  TO  1650. 


57 


it  seems  repugnant  to  the  fact  of  his  hav- 
ing written  an  elaborate  defence  of  Chris- 
tianity ;  yet  we  can  deduce  no  other  con- 
clusion from  one  chapter  in  his  most  cele- 
brated book,  the  Treatise  on  Wisdom. 
Charron  is  so  often  little  else  than  a  tran- 
scriber, that  we  might  suspect  him  in  this 
instance  also  to  have  drawn  from  other 
sources  ;  which,  however,  would  leave  the 
same  inference  as  to  his  own  tenets ;  and 
I  think  this  chapter  has  an  air  of  origi- 
nality. 

76.    The  name   of  Charron,  however, 
.   has  not  been  generally  associated 

Varuni.       ...A.  e    -T    • 

with  the  charge  of  irrehgion.  A 
more  audacious,  and,  consequently,  more 
unfortunate  writer  was  Lucilio  Vanini,  a 
native  of  Italy,  whose  book  De  Admiran- 
dis  Natures  tteginaa  Deaeque  Mortalium 
Arcanis,  printed  at  Paris  in  1616,  caused 
him  to  be  burned  at  the  stake  by  a  decree 
of  the  Parliament  of  Toulouse  in  1619. 
This  treatise,  as  well  as  one  that  preceded 
it,  Amphifcheatrum  -/Eternae  Providentiae, 
Lyons,  1615,  is  of  considerable  rarity,  so 
that  there  has  been  a  question  concerning 
the  atheism  of  Vanini,  which  some  have 
undertaken  to  deny.*  In  the  Amphithea- 
trum  I  do  not  perceive  anything  which 
leads  to  such  an  imputation,  though  I  will 
not  pretend  to  have  read  the  whole  of  a 
book  full  of  the  unintelligible  metaphysics 
of  the  later  Aristotelians.  It  professes,  at 
least,  to  be  a  vindication  of  the  being  and 
providence  of  the  Deity.  But  the  later 
work,  which  is  dedicated  to  Bassornpierre, 
and  published  with  a  royal  privilege  of  ex- 
clusive sale  for  six  years,  is  of  a  very  dif- 
ferent complexion.  It  is  in  sixty  dia- 
logues, the  interlocutors  being  styled 
Alexander  and  Julius  Caesar,  the  latter 
representing  Vanini  himself.  The  far 
greater  part  of  these  dialogues  relate  to 
physical,  but.  a  few  to  theological  subjects. 
In  the  fiftieth,  on  the  religion  of  the  hea- 
thens, he  avows  his  disbelief  of  all  reli- 
gion, except  such  as  nature,  which  is  God, 
being  the  principle  of  motion,  has  planted 
in  the  hearts  of  men ;  every  other  being 
the  figment  of  kings  to  keep  their  sub- 
jects in  obedience,  and  of  priests  for  their 
own  lucre  and  honour  ;f  observing  plainly 

*  Brucker,  v  ,  678. 

t  In  quanani  religione  verS  et  pie  Deum  coli  ve- 
tusti  philosophi  existimurunt  ?  In  unica  Nature 
lege,  quam  ipsa  Natura,  quae  Deus  est  (est  enim 
principium  motus),  in  omnium  gentium  animis  in- 
scripsit;  caeteras  vero  leges  non  nisi  figmenta  etil- 
lusiones  esse  asserebant,  non  a  cacodaemone  aliquo 
inductas,  fabulosum  namque  illorum  genus  dicitnr  a 
philosophis,  sed  a  prmcipibus  ad  snbditorum  paeda- 
gogiam  excogitatas,  et  a  sacrificulis  ob  honoris'  et 
auriaucupiumconlirmatas,  nonmiraculis,  sed  scrip- 
tura,  cujus  nee  originale  ullibi  adt  "M'enitur,  quae 

VOL.  II.— H 


of  his  own  Amphitheatrum,  which  is  a  vin- 
dication of  Providence,  that  he  had  said 
many  things  in  it  which  he  did  not  be- 
lieve.* Vanini  was  infatuated  with  pre- 


miracula  facta  recitet,  et  bonarum  ac  malarum  ac- 
tionum  repromissiones  polliceatur,  in  futura  tamen 
vita,  ne  fraus  detegi  possit,  p.  366. 

*  Multa  in  eo  libro  scripta  sunt,  quibus  a  me  nul- 
la  praestatur  fides.  Cosi  va  il  mondo. — ALEX. 
Non  miror,  nam  ego  crebris  vernaculis  hoc  usurpo 
sermonibus :  Questo  mondo  e  una  gabbia  de'  matti. 
Regesexcipioet  Pontifices.  Nam  de  illis  scriptum 
est :  Cor  Regis  in  manu  Domini,  &c. — Dial.  Ivi., 
p.  428. 

The  concluding  pages  are  enough  to  show  with 
what  justice  Buhle  and  Tennemann  have  gravely 
recorded  Vanini  among  philosophers.  Quaeso,  rni 
Juli,  tuam  cle  animae  immortalitate  sententiarn  expli- 
ces. — J.  C.  Excusatum  me  habeas  rogo. — AL.  Cur 
ita? — J.  C.  Vovi  Deo  meo  quaestionern  hanc  me 
non  pertractaturum,  antequam  senex  dives  et  ger- 
manus  evasero. — AL.  Dii  tibi  Nestoreos  pro  litera- 
ris3  reipublicae  emolumento  dies  impertiant :  vix  tri- 
gesimum  nunc  attigisti  annum  et  tot  praeclaroe  eru- 
duionis  monumenta  admirabili  cum  laude  edidisti. 
— J.  C.  Quid  haec  mihi  prosunt? — Al.  Celebrem 
tibi  laudem  compar&runt. — J.  C.  Omnes  famas  ru- 
musculos  cum  uno  amasias  basiolo  commutandos 
plerique  philosophi  suadent. — AL.  At  alter  ea  per- 
frui  potest. — J.  C.  Quid  inde  adimit  ?  .  .  .  . — AL. 
Uberrirnos  voluptatis  fructus  percepisti  in  Natura 
arcanis  investigandis. — J.  C.  Corpus  mihi  est  stu- 
diis  enervatum  exhausturnque  ;  neque  in  hac  hu- 
mana  caligine  perfectam  rerum  cogmtionem  assequi 
possumus;  cum  ipsummet  Aristotelem  philosopho- 
rum  Deum  infinitis  propemodum  lotis  hallucina- 
tum  fuisse  adverto,  cuinque  medicam  facultatein 
prae  reliquis  certissitnam  adhuc  incertam  et  falla- 
cem  experior,  subscribere  cuperem  Agrippae  libello 
quern  de  scientiarum  vanitate  conscripsit. — AL. 
Laborum  tuorum  premium  jam  consecutus  es ; 
seternitati  nomen  jam  consecrasti  Quid  jucund'us 
in  extremo  tuae  aetatis  curriculo  accipere  potes, 
quam  hoc  canticum  ?  Et  superest  sine  te  nomen 
in  orbe  tuum. — J.  C.  Si  animus  metis  una  cumcor- 
pore,  ut  Athei  fingunt,  evanescat,  quas  illeex  fama 
post  obitum  delicias  nanscisci  poterit  ?  Forsitan 
gloriolae  voculis,  et  fidiculis  ad  cadaveris  domicili- 
um  pertrahatur?  Si  animus,  ut  creriimus  libenter 
et  speramus,  interitui  non  est  obnoxius,  et  ad  supe- 
ros  evolabit,  tot  ibi  perfrueturcupediis  et  voluptati- 
bus,  ut  illustres  ac  splendidas  mundi  pompas  et  lau- 
dationes  nee  pili  faciat.  Si  ad  purgatorias  flammaa 
descendet,  gratior  erit  illi  illius  orationis.  Dies  iras, 
dies  ilia,  mulierculis  gratissima  recitatio,  quam  om- 
nes  Tuliiani  glossuli,  dicendique  lepores,  quam  sub- 
tilissimaj  et  pene  divinae  Aristotelis  ratiocmationes  : 
si  Tartareo,  quod  Deus  avertat,  perpetuo  carceri 
emancipatur,  nullum  ibi  solatium,  nullarn  redemp- 
tionem  inveniet. — AL.  O  utinam  in  adolescentias 
limirie  has  rationes  excepissem  ! — J.  C.  Praelerita 
mala  ne  cogites,  futura  ne  cures,  praesentia  fugias. 
— AL.  Ah  ! — J.  C.  Liberaliter  inspiras.— AL.  Jlli- 
us  versiculi  recorder.  Perduto  &  tutto  il  tempo, 
che  in  amor  non  si  spende. — J.  C.  Eja  quoniam  in- 
clinato  jam  die  ad  vesperam  perducta  est  disputatio 
(cujus  singula  verba  divino  Romans?  ecclesiae  orac- 
ulo,  infallibilis  cujus  interpres  a  Spiritu  sancto  mo 
dp  constitutus  esc  Paulus  V.,  sereriissimas  Burghe- 
siac  famtliae  soboles,  subjecta  esse  vplumus,  ita  ut 
pro  non  dictis  habeantur,  si  quae  forsitansunt.  quod 
credide  'm,  quae  illius  placitisad  amuss;rr.  non  con- 
scntiam  i,  iaxemus  paulisper  animos.et  a  severitate 
ad  hilarltatem  risumque  traducamus.  Hens  pueri ! 
usorias  tabulas  hue  adfcrte.  The  wretched  man, 


58 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


sumption ;  and,  if  he  resembled  Jordano 
Bruno  in  this  .respect,  fell  very  short  of 
his  acuteness  and  apparent  integrity.  His 
cruel  death,  and  perhaps  the  scarcity  of 
his  works,  has  given  more  celebrity  to  his 
name  in  literary  history  than  it  would  oth- 
erwise have  obtained. 

77.  Lord   Herbert  of  Cherbury,  in  his 
Lord  Her-  Treatise  De  Veritate,  and,   still 
bert  of      more,  in  that  De  Religione  Gen- 
caerbury.  tiliurn,  has  been  justly  deemed 
inimical  to  every  positive  religion.      He 
admits,  indeed,  the  possibility  of  imme- 
diate revelation  from  Heaven,  but  denies 
xthat  any  tradition  from  others  can  have 
sufficient    certainty.      Five   fundamental 
truths  of  natural  religion  he  holds  to  be 
such  as   all  mankind  are  bound  to   ac- 
knowledge,  and  damns   those   heathens 
who  do  not  receive  them  as  summarily  as 
any  theologian.*  „ 

78.  The  progress  of  infidelity  in  France 
Grotius  de  did  not  fail  to  attract  notice.     It 
Veritate.     was  popular  in  the  court  of  Louis 
XIII.,  and,  in  a  certain  degree,  in  that  of 
Charles  I.     But  this  does  not  belong  to 
the  history  of  literature.    Among  the  wri- 
ters who  may  have  given  some  proof  of  it 
we  may  reckon  La  Mothe  le  Vayer,  Naude, 
and  Guy  Patin.f  The  writings  of  Hobbes 


it  seems,  had  not  much  reason  to  think  himself  a 
gainer  by  his  speculations  ;  yet  he  knew  not  that 
the  worst  was  still  behind. 

*  These  five  articles  are,  1.  Esse  Deumsummum. 
— 2.  Colidebere. — 3.  Virtutempietatemqueessepra- 
cipuas  partes  cultus  divini. — 4.  Dolendum  esse  ob 
peccata,  ab  iisque  resipiscendum. — 5.  Dari  ex  bo- 
nitate  justitiaque  divina  prsemium  vel  poenam  turn 

in  hac  vita,   turn  post  hanc  vitam Hisce 

qiiippe  ubi  superstitiones  figmentaque  commiscue- 
rint,  vel  animas  suas  criminibus  quae  nulla  satis 
eluat  poenitenda,  commaculaverint,  a  seipsis  perdi- 
tio  propria,  Deo  vero  summo  in  sternum  sit  glo- 
ria.— De  Religione  Gentilium,  cap.  J. 

t  La  Mothe  le  Vayer  has  frequently  been  reck- 
oned among  those  who  carried  their  general  skepti- 
cism into  religion.  And  this  seems  a  fair  inference, 
unless  the  contrary  can  he  shown ;  for  those  who 
doubt  of  what  is  most  evident,  will  naturally  doubt 
of  what  is  less  so.  In  La  Mothe's  fourth  dialogue, 
.  under  the  name  of  Oratius  Tubero,  he  pretends  to 
speak  of  faith  as  a  gift  of  God,  and  not  founded  on 
evidence :  which  was  probably  but  the  usual  sub- 
terfuge. The  Naudaeana  are  full  of  broad  iptima- 
tions  that  the  author  was,  as  he  expresses  it,  bien 
deniaisd ;  and  Guy  Patin's  letters,  except  those  near 
the  end  of  his  life,  lead  to  a  similar  conclusion. 
One  of  them  has  certainly  the  appearance  of  impli- 
cating Gassendi,  and  has  been  quoted  as  such  by 
Sir  James  Mackintosh,  in  his  Dissertation  on  Ethi- 
cal Philosophy.  Patin  tells  us  that  Naude,  Gas- 
sendi, and  he  were  to  sup  together  the  following 
Sunday.  Ce  sera  une  debauche,  mais  philosophique, 
et  peut-4tre  quelque  chose  d'avantage,  pour  etre 
tous  trois  gue"ris  du  loup-garou,  et  £tre  delivre's  du 
mal  des  scrupules  qui  est  le  tyran  des  consciences, 
nous  irons  peut-etre  jusque  fort  pres  du  sanctuaire 
Je  fis^  1'an  passe  ce  voyage  de  Gentilly  avec  M 
Naude,  moy  seul  avec  luy,  t4te-a-tete ;  il  n'y  avoil 


will  be  treated  at  length  hereafter.  It  is 
jrobable  that  this  skeptical  spirit  of  the 
age  gave  rise  to  those  vindications  of  re- 
vealed religion  which  were  published  in 
the  present  period.  Among  these,  the  first 
place  is  due  to  the  well-known  and  exten- 

ively-circulated  treatise  of  Grotius.  This 
was  originally  sketched  in  Dutch  verse, 
and  intended  for  the  lower  classes  of  his 
countrymen.  It  was  published  in  Latin 
.n  1627.*  Few,  if  any,  books  of  the  kind 
lave  been  so  frequently  reprinted ;  but 
some  parts  being  not  quite  so  close  and 

ritical  as  the  modern  state  of  letters  ex- 
acts, and  the  arguments  against  Jews  and 
Mohammedans  seeming  to  occupy  too 
much  space,  it  is  less  read  than  formerly. 

79.  This  is  not  a  period  in  which  many 
ditions  or  versions  of  the  Scrip-  English 

tures  were  published.  The  Eng-  translation 
lish  translation  of  the  Bible  had  of  lhe  Bihle- 
been  several  times  revised  or  remade 
ince  the  first  edition  by  Tyndal  and  Cov- 
erdale.  It  finally  assumed  its  present  form 
under  the  authority  of  James  I.  Forty- 
seven  persons,  in  six  companies,  meet- 
ing at  Westminster,  Oxford,  and  Cam- 
bridge, distributed  the  labour  among  them ; 
twenty -five  being  assigned  to  the  Old 
Testament,  fifteen  to  the  New,  seven  to 
the  Apocrypha.  The  rules  imposed  for 
their  guidance  by  the  king  were  designed, 
as  far  as  possible,  to  secure  the  text  against 
any  novel  interpretation ;  the  translation, 
called  the  Bishop's  Bible,  being  established 
as  the  basis,  as  those  still  older  had  been 
in  that ;  and  the  work  of  each  person  or 
company  being  subjected  to  the  review  of 
the  rest.  The  translation,  which  was  com 
menced  in  1607,  was  published  in  161  l.f 

80.  The  style  of  this  translation  is  in 
general  so  enthusiastically  praised, , 

that  no  one  is  permitted  either  to 
qualify  or  even  explain  the  grounds  of  his 
approbation.  It  is  held  to  be  the  perfec- 
tion of  our  English  language.  I  shall  not 
dispute  this  proposition ;  but  one  remark 
as  to  a  matter  of  fact  cannot  reasonably 
be  censured,  that,  in  consequence  of  the 
principle  of  adherence  to  the  original  ver- 
sions, which  had  been  kept  up  ever  since 
the  time  of  Henry  VIII.,  it  is  not  the  Ian- 


point  de  temoins,  aussi  n'y  en  faloit-il  point ;  noua 
y  parlames  fort  librement  de  tout,  sans  que  per- 
sonne  en  ait  etc  scandalize,  p.  32.  I  should  not, 
nevertheless,  lay  much  stress  on  this  letter  in  op- 
position to  the  many  assertions  of  belief  in  religion 
which  the  writings  of  Gassentii  contain.  One  of 
them,  indeed,  quoted  by  Dugald  Stewart,  in  note 
Q.  to  his  first  Dissertation,  is  rather  suspicious,  as 
going  too  far  into  a  mystical  strain  for  his  extremely 
cold  temperament. 

*  Niceron,  vol.  xix.     Biogr.  Univ. 

t  Fuller's  Church  History. 


FROM  1600  TO  1650. 


guage  of  the  reign  of  James  I.  It  may, 
in  the  eyes  of  many,  be  a  better  English, 
but  it  is  not  the  English  of  Daniel,  or  Ra- 
leigh, or  Bacon,  as  any  one  may  easily 
perceive.  It  abounds,  in  fact,  especially  in 
the  Old  Testament,  with  obsolete  phrase- 
ology, and  with  single  words  long  since 
abandoned,  or  retained  only  in  provincial 
use.  On  the  more  important  question, 
whether  this  translation  is  entirely,  or 
with  very  trifling  exceptions,  conformable 


to  the  original  text,  it  seems  unfit  to  enter. 
It  is  one  which  is  seldom  discussed  with 
all  the  temper  and  freedom  from  oblique 
views  which  the  subject  demands,  and 
upon  which,  for  this  reason,  it  is  not  safe 
for  those  who  have  not  had  leisure  or 
means  to  examine  for  themselves,  to  take 
upon  trust  the  testimony  of  the  learned. 
A  translation  of  the  Old  Testament  was 
published  at  Douay  in  1609.  for  the  use  of 
the  English  Catholics. 


CHAPTER  III. 


HISTORY    OF    SPECULATIVE    PHILOSOPHY    FROM    1600   TO    1650. 


SECTION  I. 

Aristotelian  Logic. —  Campanella. —  Theosophists. 
— Lord  Herbert  of  Cherbury. — Gassendi's  Re- 
marks upon  him. 

1.  IN  the  preceding  volume  we  have 
Subjects  of  had  occasion  to  excuse  the  heter- 
tuis  chapter,  ogeneous  character  of  the  chap- 
ters that  bear  this  title.  The  present  is 
fully  as  much  open  to  verbal  criticism ; 
and  perhaps  it  is  rather  by  excluding  both 
moral  and  mathematical  philosophy  that 
we  give  it  some  sort  of  unity,  than  from 
any  close  connexion  in  all  the  books  that 
will  come  under  our  notice  in  the  ensuing 
pages.  But  any  tabular  arrangement  of  lit- 
erature, such  as  has  often  been  attempted 
with  no  very  satisfactory  result,  would  be 
absolutely  inappropriate  to  such  a  work 
as  the  present,  which  has  already  vto  la- 
bour with  the  inconvenience  of  more  sub- 
divisions than  can  be  pleasing  to  the  read- 
er, and  would  interfere  too  continually 
with  that  general  regard  to  chronology, 
without  which  the  name  of  history  seems 
incongruous.  Hence  the  metaphysical  in- 
quiries that  are  conversant  with  the  human 
mind  or  with  natural  theology,  the  gen- 
eral principles  of  investigating  truth,  the 
comprehensive  speculations  of  theoretical 
physics,  subjects  very  distinct  and  not 
easily  confounded  by  the  most  thoughtless, 
must  fall,  with  no  more  special  distribution, 
within  the  contents  of  this  chapter.  But 
since,  during  the  period  which  it  embraces, 
men  arose  who  have  laid  the  foundations 
of  a  new  philosophy,  and  thus  have  ren- 
dered it  a  great  epoch  in  the  intellectual 
history  of  mankind,  we  shall  not  very 
strictly,  though  without  much  deviation, 
follow  a  chronological  order,  and,  after  re- 
viewing some  of  the  less  important  la- 
bourers in  speculative  philosophy,  come 
to  the  names  of  three  who  have  most  in- 


fluenced posterity,  Bacon,  Descartes,  and 
Hobbes. 

2.  We  have  seen,  in  a  former  chapter, 
how  little  progress  had  been  Aristotelians 
made  in  this  kind  of  philosophy  andRamists. 
during  the  sixteenth  century.  At  its  close 
the  schools  of  logic  were  divided,  though 
by  no  means  in  equal  proportion,  between 
the  Aristotelians  and  the  Ramists ;  the 
one  sustained  by  ancient  renown,  by  civil, 
or,  at  least,  academical  power,  and  by  the 
common  prejudice  against  innovation ;  the 
other  deriving  some  strength  from  the 
love  of  novelty  and  the  prejudice  against 
established  authority  which  the  first  age 
of  the  Reformation  had  generated,  and 
which  continued,  perhaps,  to  preserve  a 
certain  influence  in  the  second.  But  nei- 
ther from  one  nor  the  other  had  philoso- 
phy, whether  in  material  or  intellectual 
physics,  much  to  hope  ;  the  disputations 
of  the  schools  might  be  technically  cor- 
rect ;  but  so  little  regard  was  paid  to  ob- 
jective truth,  or,  at  least,  so  little  pains 
taken  to  ascertain  it,  that  no  advance  in 
real  knowledge  signalized  either  of  these 
parties  of  dialecticians.  According,  in- 
deed, to  a  writer  of  this  age,  strongly  at- 
tached to  the  Aristotelian  party,  Ramus 
had  turned  all  physical  science  into  the 
domain  of  logic,  and  argued  from  words 
to  things  still  more  than  his  opponents.* 
Lord  Bacon,  in  the  bitterest  language, 
casts  on  him  a  similar  reproach.f  It 


*  Keckermann,  Prsecognita  Logics,  p.  129.  This 
writer  charges  Ramus  with  plagiarism  from  Lu 
dovicus  Vives,  placing  the  passages  in  apposition, 
so  as  to  prove  his  case.  Ramus,  he  says,  never  al 
ludes  to  Vives.  He  praises  the  former,  however, 
for  having  attacked  the  scholastic  party,  being  him 
self  a  genuine  Aristotelian. 

t  Ne  vero,  fili,  cum  hanc  contra  Aristotelem  sen 
tentiam  fero,  me  cum  rebelli  ejus  quodam  neoterico 
Petro  Ramo  conspirasse  augurare.  Nullum  mi' 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


seems  that  he  caused  this  branch  of  phi- 
losophy to  retrograde  rather  than  advance. 

3.  It   was  obvious,  at  all  events,  that 
No  improve-  from  the  universities   or  from 
ment  mi       ^e  Church  in  any  country,  no 
of  "he'cen-  improvement  in  philosophy  was 
tury.  to  be  expected  ;  yet  those  who 
had  strayed  from  the  beaten  track,  a  Par- 
acelsus, a  Jordan  Bruno,  even  a  Telesio, 
had  but  lost  themselves  in  irregular  mys- 
ticism, or  laid  down  theories  of  their  own, 
as  arbitrary  and  destitute  of  proof  as  those 
they  endeavoured  to  supersede.     The  an- 
cient philosophers,  and  especially  Aristo- 
tle, were,  with  all  their  errors  and  defects, 
far  more  genuine  high-priests  of  nature 
than  any  modems  of  the  sixteenth  cen- 
tury.    But  there  was  a  better  prospect,  at 
its  close,  in  separate,  though  very  impor- 
tant branches  of  physical  science.     Gil- 
bert, Kepler,  Galileo,  were  laying  the  ba- 
sis of  a  true  philosophy ;  and  they,  who 
do  not  properly  belong  to  this  chapter,  la- 
boured very  effectually  to  put  an  end  to 
all  antiquated  errors,  and  to  check  the  re- 
ception of  novel  paradoxes. 

4.  We  may  cast  a  glance,  meantime,  on 
Methods  of  those  universities  which  still  were 
theUniver-  so  wise  in  their  own  conceit,  and 
sines.         maintained  a  kind  of  reputation 
by  the  multitude  of  their  disciples.    What- 
ever has  been  said  of  the  scholastic  meta- 
physicians of  the  sixteenth  century,  may 
be  understood  as  being  applicable  to  their 
successors    during   the    present    period. 
That  method  was  by  no  means  extinct, 
though  the  books  which  contain  it  are  for- 
gotten.    In  all  that  part  of  Europe  which 
acknowledged  the  authority  of  Rome,  and 
in  all  the  universities  which  were  swayed 
by  the  orders  of  Franciscans,  Dominicans, 
and  Jesuits,  the  metaphysics  of  the  thir- 
teenth century,  the  dialectics  of  the  Peri- 
patetic school,  were  still  taught.     If  new 
books  were  written,   as  was  frequently 
the  case,  they  were  written  upon  old  sys- 
tems.     Brucker,  who   sometimes    tran- 
scribes Morhof  word  for  word,  but  fre- 
quently expands  with  so  much  more  co- 
piousness that  he  may  be  presumed  to 
have  had  a  direct  acquaintance  with  many 
of  the  books  he  mentions,  has  gone  most 


commercinm  cum  hoc  ignorantiselatibulo,pernicio- 
sissima  literal-urn  tinea,  compendiorum  patre,  qui 
cum  methodi  suae  et  compendii  vinclis  res  torqueat 
et  premat,  res  qnidem,  si  qua  fuit,  elabitur  protinus 
et  exsiht ;  ipse  vero  aridas  et  desertissimas  nugas 
stringit.  Atque  Aquinas  quidam  cum  Scoto  et  so- 
ciis  etiam  in  non  rebus  rerum  varietatem  effinxit, 
hie  vero  etiam  in  rebus  non  rerum  solitudinem 
sequavit.  Atque  hoc  hominis  cum  sit,  humanos 
tamen  usus  in  ore  habet  impudens,  ut  mini  etiam 
pro  [prae  ?]  sophistis  pravaricari  videatur.— Bacon, 
de  Interpretation  Naturae. 


elaborately  into  this  unpropitious  subject.* 
The  chairs  of  philosophy  in  Protestant 
German  universities,  except  where  the 
Ramists  had  got  possession  of  them,  which 
was  not  very  common,  especially  after  the 
first  years  of  this  period,  were  occupied 
by  avowed  Aristotelians  ;  so  that,  if  one 
should  enumerate  the  professors  of  phys- 
ics, metaphysics,  logic,  and  ethics  down 
to  the  close  of  the  century,  he  would  be 
almost  giving  a  list  of  strenuous  adherents 
of  that  system. f  One  cause  of  this  was 
the  "  Philippic  method,"  or  course  of  in- 
struction in  the  philosophical  books  of 
Melanchthon,  more  clear  and  elegant,  and 
better  arranged  than  that  of  Aristotle  him- 
self or  his  commentators.  But  this,  which 
long  continued  to  prevail,  was  deemed  by 
some  too  superficial,  and  tending  to  set 
aside  the  original  authority.  Brucker, 
however,  admits — what  seems,  at  least, 
to  limit  some  of  his  expressions  as  to  the 
prevalence  of  Peripateticism — that  many 
reverted  to  the  scholastic  metaphysics, 
which  raised  its  head  about  the  beginning 
of  the  seventeenth  century,  even  in  the 
Protestant  regions  of  Germany.  The 
Universities  of  Altdorf  and  Helmstadt 
were  the  chief  nurseries  of  the  genuine 
Peripateticism.  J 

5.  Of  the  metaphysical  writers  whom 
the  older  philosophy  brought  forth  scholastic 
we  must  speak  with  much  igno-  writers, 
ranee.  Suarez  of  Granada  is  justly  cel- 
ebrated for  some  of  his  other  works  ;  but 
of  his  Metaphysical  Disputations,  pub- 
lished at  Mentz  in  1614,  in  two  folio  vol- 
umes, and  several  times  afterward,  I  find 
no  distinct  character  in  Morhof  or  Bruck- 
er. They  both,  especially  the  former, 
have  praised  Lalemandet,  a  Franciscan, 
whose  Decisiones  Philosophies,  on  logic, 
physics,  and  metaphysics,  appeared  at 
Munich  in  1644  and  1645.  Lalemandet, 
says  Morhof,  has  well  stated  the  ques- 
tions between  the  Nominalist  and  Real- 
ist parties ;  observing  that  the  difference 
between  them  is  like  that  of  a  man  who 
casts  up  a  sum  of  money  by  figures,  and 
one  who  counts  the  coins  themselves. § 
This,  however,  seems  no  very  happy  il- 
lustration of  the  essential  points  of  con- 
troversy. Vasquez,  Tellez,  and  several 
more  names,  without  going,  for  the  pres- 
ent, below  the  middle  of  the  century,  may 
be  found  in  the  two  writers  quoted.  Spain 
was  peculiarly  the  nurse  of  these  obsolete 
and  unprofitable  metaphysics. 


*  Morhof,  vol.  ii.,  lib.  1,  c.  13,  14.  Brucker,  iv., 
cap.  2,  3. 

t  Brucker,  iv.,  243.  J  Id.,  p.  243-253. 

§  Morhof,  vol.  ii.,  lib.  i.,  cap.  14,  sect.  15.  Bruck 
er,  iv.,  129. 


FROM  1600  TO  1650. 


61 


6.  The  Aristotelian  philosophy,  unadul- 
terated by  the  figments  of  the  schoolmen 
had  eminent  upholders  in  the  Italian  uni- 
versities, especially  in  that  of  Padua. 
Caesar  Cremonini  taught  in  that  famou 
city  till  his  death  in  1630.  Fortunio  Li- 
ceto,  his  successor,  was  as  stanch  a  disci- 
ple of  the  Peripatetic  sect.  We  have  a 
more  full  account  of  these  men  from  Ga- 
briel Naude,  both  in  his  recorded  conver- 
sation, the  Naudaeana,  and  in  a  volume  of 
letters,  than  from  any  other  quarter.  His 
twelfth  letter,  especially,  enters  into  some 
detail  as  to  the  state  of  the  University  of 
Padua,  to  which,  for  the  purpose  of  hear- 
ing Cremonini,  he  had  repaired  in  10-25. 
He  does  not  much  extol  its  condition ; 
only  Cremonini  and  one  more  were  deem- 
ed by  him  safe  teachers  :  the  rest  were 
mostly  of  a  common  class  ;  the  lectures 
were  too  few,  and  the  vacations  too  long. 
He  observes,  as  one  might  at  this  day, 
the  scanty  population  of  the  city  com- 
pared with  its  size,  the  grass  growing  and 
the  birds  singing  in  the  streets,  and,  what 
we  should  not  find  now  to  be  the  case, 
the  "  general  custom  of  Italy,  which  keeps 
women  perpetually  locked  up  in  their 
(^hambsrs,  like  birds  in  cages."*  Naude, 
in  many  of  these  letters,  speaks  in  the 
most  panegyrical  terms  of  Cremonini.t 
and  particularly  for  his  standing  up  almost 
alone  in  defence  of  the  Aristotelian  phi- 
losophy, when  Telesio,  Patrizi,  Bruno,  and 
others  had  been  propounding  theories  of 
their  own.  Licetus,  the  successor  of 
Cremonini,  maintained,  he  afterward  in- 
forms us,  with  little  support,  the  Peripa- 
tetic verity.  It  is  probable  that,  by  this 
time,  Galileo,  a  more  powerful  adversary 
than  Patrizi  and  Telesio,  had  drawn  away 
the  students  of  physical  philosophy  from 
Aristotle  ;  nor  did  Naude  himself  long 
continue  in  the  faith  he  had  imbibed  from 
Cremonini.  He  became  the  intimate 
friend  of  Gassendi,  and  embraced  a  better 
system  without  repugnance,  though  he 
still  kept  up  his  correspondence  with  Li- 
cetus. 

7.  Logic  had  never  been  more  studied. 
Treatises  on  according  to  a  writer  who  has 
L°g'c-  given  a  sort  of  history  of  the 
science  about  the  beginning  of  this  period, 
than  in  the  preceding  age  ;  and,  in  fact, 
he  enumerates  about  fifty  treatises  on  the 
subject,  between  the  time  of  Ramus  and 
his  own.|  The  Ramists,  though  of  little 
importance  in  Italy,  in  Spain,  and  even  in 
France,  had  much  influence  in  Germany, 


*  Naudffii  Epistote,  p.  52  (edit.  1607) 
t  P.  27,  et  alibi  saepius. 

t  Keckermann,  Praecognita  Logica,  p.  110  (edit. 
1606). 


England,  and  Scotland.*  None,  however, 
of  the  logical  works  of  the  sixteenth  cen- 
tury obtained  such  reputation  as  those  by 
Smiglecius,  Burgersdicius,  and  our  coun- 
tryman Crakanthorp,  all  of  whom  flour- 
ished, if  we  may  use  such  a  word  for 
those  who  bore  no  flowers,  in  the  earlier 
part  of  the  next  age.  As  these  men 
were  famous  in  their  generation,  we  may 
presume  that  they  at  least  wrote  better 
than  their  predecessors.  But  it  is  time  to 
leave  so  jejune  a  subject,  though  we  may 
not  yet  be  able  to  produce  what  is  much 
more  valuable. 

8.  The  first  name,  in  an  opposite  class, 
that  we  find  in  descending  from  the  campa- 
sixteenth  century,  is  that  of  Thorn-  "ella- 
as  Campanella,  whose   earliest  writings 
belong  to  it.     His  philosophy  being  wholly 
dogmatical,  must  be  classed  with  that  of 
the  paradoxical  innovators  whom  he  fol- 
lowed and  eclipsed.     Campanella,  a  Do- 
minican friar,  and,  like  his  master  Telesio, 
a  native  of  Cosenza,  having  been  accused, 
it  is  uncertain  how  far  with  truth,  of  a  con- 
spiracy against  the  Spanish  government 
of  his  country,  underwent  an  imprison- 
ment of  twenty-seven  years,  during  which 
almost  all  his  philosophical  treatises  were 
composed  and  given  to  the  world.     Ar- 
dent and  rapid  in  his  mind,  and,  as  has 
been  seen,  not   destitute   of  leisure,  he 
wrote  on  logic,  physics,  metaphysics,  mor- 
als, politics,  and  grammar.    Upon  all  these 
subjects  his  aim  seems  to  have  been  to  re- 
cede  as   far  as  possible  from  Aristotle. 
He  had  early  begun  to  distrust  this  guide, 
and  had  formed  a  noble  resolution-to  study 
all  schemes  of  philosophy,  comparing  them 
with  their  archetype,  the  world  itself,  that 
he  might  distinguish  how  much  exactness 
was  to  be  found  in  those  several  copies, 
as  they  ought  to  be,  from  one  autograph 
of  nature.f 

9.  Campanella   borrowed   his  primary 
theorems  from  Telesio,  but  en-  His  tiieory 
larged  that  Parmenidean  philoso-  taken  from 
phy  by  the  invention  of  his  own  Telesl°- 
fertile  and  imaginative  genius.     He  lays 
down  the  fundamental  principle,  that  the 
perfectly  wise  and  good  Being  has  created 
certain  signs  and  types  (statuas  atque  im- 
agines) of  himself,  all  of  which,  severally 
as  well  as  collectively,  represent  power, 
wisdom,  and  love,  and  the  objects  of  these, 
namely,  existence,  truth,  and  excellence, 
with  more  or  less  evidence.     God   first 
created  space,  the  basis  of  existence,  the 
primal  substance,  an  immoveable  and  in- 
corporeal   capacity   of   receiving    body. 
Next  he  created  matter  without  form  or 


*  Id  ,  p.  147.    f  Cypriani  Vita  Campanelke,  p.  7. 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


figure.  In  this  corporeal  mass  God  called 
to  being  two  workmen,  incorporeal  them- 
selves, but  incapable  of  subsisting  apart 
from  body,  the  organs  of  no  physical 
forms,  but  of  their  Maker  alone.  These 
are  heat  and  cold,  the  active  principles  dif- 
fused through  all  things.  They  were  en- 
emies from  the  beginning,  each  striving 
to  occupy  all  material  substances  itself; 
each,  therefore,  always  contending  with 
the  other,  while  God  foresaw  the  great 
good  that  their  discord  would  produce.* 
The  heavens,  he  says  in  another  passage, 
were  formed  by  heat  out  of  attenuated 
matter,  the  earth  by  cold  out  of  condensed 
matter ;  the  sun,  being  a  body  of  heat,  as 
he  rolls  round  the  earth,  attacks  the  colder 
substance,  and  converts  part  of  it  into  air 
and  vapour.f  This  last  part  of  his  theory 
Campanella  must  have  afterward  changed 
in  words,  when  he  embraced  the  Coperni- 
can  system. 

10.  He  united  to  this  physical  theory 
Notion  of  another,  not  wholly  original,  but 
universal  enforced  in  all  his  writings  with 
sensibility.  sjnguiar  confidence  and  pertinaci- 
ty, the  sensibility  of  all  created  beings. 
All  things,  he  says,  feel;  else  would  the 
world  be  a  chaos.  For  neither  would  fire 
tend  upward,  nor  stones  downward,  nor 
waters  to  the  sea ;  but  everything  would 
remain  where  it  was,  were  it  not  con- 
scious that  destruction  awaits  it  by  re- 
maining amid  that  which  is  contrary  to  it- 
self, and  that  it  can  only  be  preserved  by 
seeking  that  which  is  of  a  similar  nature. 
Contrariety  is  necessary  for  the  decay 
and  reproduction  of  nature  ;  but  all  things 
strive  against  their  contraries,  which  they 
could  not  do  if  they  did  not  perceive  what 
is  their  contrary. ij:  God,  who  is  primal 


*  In  hac  corporea  mole  tantse  materia  statuae, 
dixit  Deus,  ut  nascerentur  fabri  duo  incorporei,  sed 
non  potentes  nisi  a  corpore  subsistere,  nullarum 
physicarum  formarum  organa,  sed  fprmatoris  tan- 
tummodo.  Idcirco  nati  calor  et  frigus,  principia 
activa  principalia,  ideoque  SUB  virtutis  diffusiva. 
Statim  inimici  fuerunt  mutuo,  dum  uterque  cupit 
totam  substandard  materialem  occupare.  Hinc 
contra  se  invicem  pugnare  coeperunt,  providente 
Deo  ex  hujusmodi  discordia  ingens  bonum. — Phil- 
osophia  Realis  Epilogistica  (Frankfort,  1623),  sec- 
tion 4. 

t  This  is  in  the  Compendium  de  Rerum  Natura 
pro  Philosophia  humana,  published  by  Adami  in 
1617.  In  his  Apology  for  Galileo  in  1622,  Campa- 
nella defends  the  Copernican  system,  and  says  that 
the  modern  astronomers  think  they  cannot  con- 
struct good  ephemerides  without  it. 

t  Omnia  ergo  sentinnt ;  alias  mundus  esset  cha- 
os. Ignis  enim  non  sursum  tenderet,  nee  aquae  in 
mare,  nee  lapides  deorsum  ;  sed  res  omnis  ubi  pri- 
mo  reperiretur,  permaneret,  cum  non  sentiret  sui 
destructionem  inter  contraria  nee  sui  conservatio- 
nem  inter  similia.  Non  esset  in  rrrando  generatio  et 
corruptio  nisi  esset  contrarietas,  sicut  omnes  phys- 
ioiogi  affirmant.  At  si  alterum  contrarium  non  sen- 


power,  wisdom,  and  love,  has  bestowed  on 
all  things  the  power  of  existence,  and  so 
much  wisdom  and  love  as  is  necessary  for 
their  conservation  during  that  time  only 
for  which  his  providence  has  determined 
that  they  shall  be.  Heat,  therefore,  has 
power,  and  sense,  and  desire  of  its  own 
being  ;  so  have  all  other  things,  seeking  to 
be  eternal  like  God,  and  in  God  they  are 
eternal,  for  nothing  dies  before  him,  but  is 
only  changed.*  Even  to  the  world,  as  a 
sentient  being,  the  death  of  its  parts  is  no 
evil,  since  the  death  of  one  is  the  birth  of 
many.  Bread  that  is  swallowed  dies  to 
revive  as  blood,  and  blood  dies  that  it  may 
live  again  in  our  flesh  and  bones  ;  and  thus, 
as  the  life  of  man  is  compounded  out  of 
the  deaths  and  lives  of  all  his  parts,  so  ia 
it  with  the  whole  universe. f  God  said, 
Let  all  things  feel,  some  more,  some  less, 
as  they  have  more  or  less  necessity  to 
imitate  my  being.  And  let  them  desire  to 
live  in  that  which  they  understand  to  be 
good  for  them,  lest  my  creation  should 
come  to  nought. J 

11.  The  strength  of  Campanella's  ge- 
nius lay  in  his  imagination,  which  His  imagi- 
raises  him  sometimes  to  flights  nation  and 
of  impressive  eloquence  on  this  el°iuei1 
favourite  theme.  The  sky  and  stars  are 
endowed  with  the  keenest  sensibility ;  nor 
is  it  unreasonable  to  suppose  that  they 
signify  their  mutual  thoughts  to  each  other 
by  the  transference  of  light,  and  that  their 
sensibility  is  full  of  pleasure.  The  blessed 
spirits  that  inform  such  living  and  bright 
mansions  behold  all  things  in  nature  and 


tiret  alterum  sibi  esse  contrarium.  contra  ipsum  non 
puguaret.  Sentiunt  ergo  singula. —  De  Sensu  Re- 
rum, 1.  i.,  c.  4. 

*  Igitur  ipse  Deus,  qui  est  prima  potentia,  prima 
sapientia,  primus  amor,  largitus  est  rebus  omnibus 
potentiam  vivendi,  et  sapientiam  et  amorem  quan- 
tum sufficit  conservationi  ipsarum  in  tanto  tempore 
necessaria3,  quantum  determinavit  ejus  mens  pro 
rerum  regimine  in  ipso  ente,  nee  praeteriri  potest. 
Calor  ergo  potest,  sentit,  amat,  esse  ;  ita  et  res  om- 
nis, cupitque  aeternari  sicut  Deus,  et  Deo  res  null& 
moritur,  sed  solummodo  mutatur,  &c.,  1.  ii.,  c.  26. 

f  Non  est  malus  ignis  in  suo  esse;  terra  autem 
malus  videtur,  non  autem  mundo  ;  nee  vipera  mala 
est,  licet  homini  sit  mala.  Ita  de  omnibus  idem  pra> 
dico.  Mors  quoquerei  unius  si  nativitas  est  multa- 
rum  rerum,  mala  non  est.  Moritur  panis  manduca- 
tus,  ut  fiat  sanguis,  et  sanguis  moritur,  ut  in  carnem 
nervos  et  ossa  vertatur  ac  vivat ;  neque  tamen  hoc 
universe  displicet  animali,  quamvis  partibus  mors 
ipsa,  hoc  est,  transmutatio  dolorifica  sit,  displiceat- 
que.  Ita  utilis  est  mundo  transmutatio  eorum  par- 
ticularium  noxia  displicensque  illis.  Totus  homo 
compositus  est  ex  morte  ac  vita  partialibus,  quae  in- 
tegrant vitam  humanam.  Sic  mundus  totus  ex 
mortibus  ac  vitabus  compositus  est,  quae  totius  vitam 
efficiunt— Philosop.  Realis,  c.  10. 

J'Sentiant  alia  magis,  alia  minus,  prout  magis 
minusque  opus  habent,  et  me  imitentur  is  essendo. 
Ibidem  ament  omnia  vivere  in  proprio  esse  pnecog- 
nito  ut  bono,  ne  corruat  factura  mea. — Id.,  c.  10 


FROM  1600  TO  1650. 


in  the  divine  ideas ;  they  have  also  a  more 
glorious   light   than   their  own,  through 
which  they  are  elevated  to  a  supernatural 
beatific  vision.*     We  can  hardly  read  this 
without  recollecting  the  most  sublime  pas- 
sage, perhaps,  in  Shakspeare : 
"  Sit,  Jessica ;  look  how  the  vault  of  heaven 
Is  thick  iriiayed  with  palms  of  bright  gold. 
There's  not  the  smallest  orb  that  thou  behold'st, 
But  in  its  motion  like  an  angel  sings, 
Still  quiring  to  the  young-eyed  cherubim  ; 
Such  harmony  is  in  immortal  souls. 
But  while  this  muddy  vesture  of  decay 
Does  grossly  close  us  in,  we  cannot  hear  it."f 

12.  The  world  is  full  of  living  spirits, 
he  proceeds ;  and  when  the  soul  shall  be 
delivered  from  this  dark  cavern,  we  shall 
behold   their  subtle  essences.     But  now 
we  cannot  discern  the  forms  of  the  air, 
•and  the  winds  as  thsy  rush  by  us  ;  much 
less  the  angels  and  daemons  who  people 
them.     Miserable  as  we  are,  we  recognise 
no  other  sensation  than  that  which  we  ob- 
serve in  animals  and  plants,  slow  and  half 
extinguished,  and  buried  under  a  weight 
that  oppresses  it.     We  will  not  understand 
that  all  our  actions,  and  appetites,  and  mo- 
tions, and  powers  flow  from  heaven.    Look 
at  the  manner  in  which  light  is  diffused 
over  the  earth,  penetrating  every  part  of 
it  with  endless  variety  of  operation,  which 
we  must  believe  that  it  does  not  perform 
without  exquisite  pleasure. J    And  hence 
there  is  no  vacuum  in  nature,  except  by 
violent  means  ;  since  all  bodies  delight  in 
mutual  contact,  and  the  world  no  more 
desires  to  be  rent  in  its  parts  than  an  ani- 
mal. 

13.  It  is  almost  a  descent  in  Campanel- 
la  from  these  visions  of  the  separate  sen- 
sibility of  nature  in  each  particle,  when  he 

*  Animae  beatas  habitantes  sic  vivas  lucidasque 
mansiones,  res  naturales  vident  omnes  clivinasque 
ideas,  habent  quoque  lumen  gloriosius  quo  elevan- 
tur  ad  visionem  supernaturalem  beatificam,  et  ve- 
luti  apud  nos  luces  plurima;  sese  mutuo  tangunt, 
intersecant,  decussant,  sentiuntque,  ita  in  crelo 
luces  distinguuntur,  uniuntur,  sentiunt. — De  Sensu 
Kerum,  1.  iii,  c.  4. 

f  Merchant  of  Venice,  Act  v. 

j  Praetervolant  in  conspectu  nostro  venti  et  aer, 
at  nihil  eos  videmus.multo  minus  videmus  Angelos 
Dffimonasque,  quorum  plenus  est  mundus. 

Infeli'ces  qui  sensum  alium  nullum  agnoscimns, 
nisi  obtusum  animalium  plantarumque,  tardum,  de- 
inortuum  aggravatum ;  sepultutn:  nee  quidem  in- 
telligere  volumus  omnem  actionem  nostrarn  et  ap- 
petitum  et  sensum  et  motum  et  vim  a  ccelo  manare. 
JEccelux  quanto  acutissimoexpanditur  sensu  super 
terram,  quo  multiplicatur,  generatur,  amplificatur, 
idque  non  sine  magna  efficere  voluptate  existiman- 
da  est,  1.  iii.,  c.  5. 

Campanella  used  to  hear,  as  he  tells  us,  whenever 
any  evil  was  impending,  a  voice  calling  him  by  his 
name,  sometimes  with  other  words;  he  doubted 
whether  this  were  his  proper  daemon  or  the  air  itself 
speaking.  It  is  not  wonderful  that  his  imagination 
was  affected  by  length  of  confinement. 


seizes  hold  of  some  physical  fact  or  anal- 
ogy to  establish  a  subordinate  and  less 
paradoxical  part  of  his  theory.  He  was 
much  pleased  with  Gilbert's  treatise  on 
the  magait,  and  thought  it,  of  course,  a 
proof  of  the  animation  of  the  earth.  The 
world  is  an  animal,  he  says,  sentient  as  a 
whole,  and  enjoying  life  in  all  its  parts.* 
It  is  not  surprising  that  he  ascribes  intel- 
ligence to  plants  ;  but  he  here  remarks 
that  we  find  the  male  and  female  sexes  in 
them,  and  that  the  latter  cannot  fructify 
without  the  former.  This  is  manifest  in 
siliquose  plants  and  in  palms  (which  on 
this  account  he  calls  in  another  place  the 
wiser  plants,  plantac  sapientiores),  in  which 
the  two  kinds  incline  towards  each  other 
for  the  purpose  of  fructification. f 

14.  Campanella,  when  he  uttered  from 
his  Neapolitan  prison  these  dul-  IIig  work8 
cet  sounds  of  fantasy,  had  the  published  by 
advantage  of  rinding  a  pious  dis-  Adaml- 
ciple  who  spread  them  over  other  parts  of 
Europe.  This  was  Tobias  Adami,  initia- 
ted, as  he  tells  us,  in  the  same  mysteries 
as  himself  (nostrae  philosophise  symmys- 
ta),  who  dedicated  to  the  philosophers  of 
Germany  his  own  Prodromus  Philoso- 
phic Instauratio,  prefixed  to  his  edition 
of  Campanella's  Compendium  de  Rerum 
Natura,  published  at  Frankfort  in  1617. 
Most  of  the  other  writings  of  the  master 
seem  to  have  preceded  this  edition;  for 
Adami  enumerates  them  in  his  Prodro- 
mus. Campanella  did  not  fully  obtain  his 
liberty  till  16-29,  and  died  some  years  af- 
terward in  France,  where  he  had  experi- 
enced the  kindness  of  Peiresc,  and  the 
patronage  of  Richelieu.  His  philosophy 
made  no  very  deep  impression ;  it  was  too 
fanciful,  too  arbitrary,  too  much  tinctured 
with  marks  of  an  imagination  rendered 
morbid  by  solitude  to  gain  many  prose- 
lytes in  an  age  that  was  advancing  in  se- 
vere science.  Gassendi,  whose  good-na- 
ture led  him  to  receive  Campanella,  op- 
pressed by  poverty  and  ill  usage,  with  ev- 
ery courteous  attention,  was  of  all  men 
the  last  to  be  seduced  by  his  theories.  No 
one,  probably,  since  Campanella,  aspiring 
to  be  reckoned  among  philosophers,  has 
ventured  to  assert  so  much  on  matters  of 
high,  speculative  importance,  and  to  prove 
so  little.  Yet  he  seems  worthy  of  the  no- 


*  Mundum  esse  animal,  toturn  sentiens,  omnes- 
que  portiones  ejus  communi  gaudere  vita,  1.  i.,  c.  9. 

t  Inveniernus  in  plantis  sexum  masculinum  et 
fosmininum,  ut  in  animalibus,  et  foeminam  non  fruo- 
tificare  sine  masculi  congressu.  Hoc  patet  in  sili- 
quis  et  in  palrnis,  quarum  mas  fceminaque  inclinan 
tur  mutuo  alter  in  alterum  et  sese  osculaiitur,  et 
fcemina  impregnatur,  nee  fructificat  sine  mare; 
immo  cpnspicitur  dolens,  squalida  mortuaque,  et 
pulvere  illius  et  odore  reviviscit. 


64 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


tice  we  have  taken  of  him,  if  it  were  only 
as  the  last  of  the  mere  dogmatists  in  phi- 
losophy.    He  is  doubtless  much  superior 
to  Jordano  Bruno,  and  I  should  presume, 
except  in  mathematics,  to  Cardan.* 
15.  A  less  important  adversary  of  the 
established  theory  in  physics  was 
n-  Sabastian  Basson,  in  his  "Philo- 
sophise Naturalis  adversus  Aristotelem  li- 
bri  XII.,  in  quibus  abstrusa  veterum  phys- 
iologia  restauratur,  et  Aristotelis  errores 
solidis  rationibus  refelluntur.      Genevas, 
1621."    This  book  shows  great  animosity 
against  Aristotle,  to  whom,  as  Lord  Bacon 
has  himself  insinuated,  he  allows  only  the 
credit  of  having  preserved  fragments  of 
the  older  philosophers,  like  pearls  in  mud. 
It  is  difficult  to  give  an  account  of  this 
long  work.     In  some  places  we  perceive 
signs  of  a  just  philosophy ;  but,  in  general, 
his  explanations  of  physical  phenomena 
seem  as  bad   as  those  of  his  opponents, 
and  he  displays  no  acquaintance  with  the 
writings  and  the  discoveries  of  his  great 
contemporaries.     We  find  also  some  geo- 
metrical paradoxes  ;  and,  in  treating  of  as- 
tronomy, he  writes  as   if  he   had  never 
heard  of  the  Copernican  system. 

16.  Claude  Berigard,  born  at  Moulins, 
Bernard  became  professor  of  natural  philos- 
'  ophy  at  Pisa  and  Padua.  In  his 
Circuli  Pisani,  published  in  1643,  he  at- 
tempted to  revive,  as  it  is  commonly  said, 
the  Ionic  or  corpuscular  philosophy  of 
Anaxagoras,  in  opposition  to  the  Aristo- 
telian. The  book  is  rare;  but  Brucker, 
who  had  seen  it,  seems  to  have  satisfac- 
torily repelled  the  charge  of  atheism 
brought  by  some  against  Berigard. f  An- 
other Frenchman  domiciled  in  Italy,  Mag- 
Magnen.  ttcn'. trod  nearlv  the  same  path  as 
Berigard,  professing,  however,  to 
follow  the  modification  of  the  corpuscular 
theory  introduced  by  Democritus.J  It 
seems  to  bs  observable  as  to  these  wri- 
ters, Basson  and  the  others,  that,  coming 
with  no  sufficient  knowledge  of  what  had 
recently  been  discovered  in  mathematical 
and  experimental  science,  and  following 
the  bad  methods  of  the  universities,  even 
when  they  deviated  from  their  usual  doc- 
trines, dogmatizing  and  asserting  when 
they  should  have  proved,  arguing  synthet- 
ically from  axioms,  and  never  ascending 
from  particular  facts,  they  could  do  little 


»  Brucker  (vol.  v.,  p.  106-144)  has  given  a  labo- 
rious analysis  of  the  philosophy  of  Campanella 

Bnicker,  iv.,  460.     Niceron,  xxxi.,  where  he  is 
inserted  by  the  name  of  Beauregard,  which  is  prob- 
ably more  correct,  but  against  usage, 
t  Bnicker  (p.  504)  tninks  that  Magnen  rnisun- 
irstood  the  atomic  theory  of  Democritus,  and  sub- 
tituted  one  quite  different  in  his  Democritus  revi- 
viscens,  published  in  1646. 


good  to  philosophy,  except  by  Contribu- 
ting, so  far  as  they  might  be  said  to  have 
had  any  influence,  to  shake  the  authority 
of  'Aristotle. 

17.  This  authority,  which  at  least  re- 
quired  but  the  deference  of  mod-  Paracelsist9 
est  reason  to  one  of  the  greatest 

of  mankind,  was  ill  exchanged,  in  any 
part  of  science,  for  the  unintelligible 
dreams  of  the  school  of  Paracelsus,  which 
had  many  disciples  in  Germany,  and  a 
very  few  in  England.  Germany,  indeed, 
has  been  the  native  soil  of  mysticism  in 
Europe.  The  tendency  to  reflex  observa- 
tion of  the  mind,  characteristic  of  that 
people,  has  exempted  them  from  much 
gross  error,  and  given  them  insight  into 
many  depths  of  truth,  but  at  the  expense 
of  some  confusion,  some  liability  to  self- 
deceit,  and  to  some  want  of  strictness  in 
metaphysical  reasoning.  It  was  accom- 
panied by  a  profound  sense  of  the  pres-- 
ence  of  Deity ;  yet  one  which,  acting  on 
their  thoughtful  spirits,  became  rather  an 
impression  than  an  intellectual  act,  and 
settled  into  a  mysterious  indefinite  theop- 
athy,  when  it  did  not  even  evaporate  in 
pantheism. 

18.  The  founder,  perhaps,  of  this  sect 
was  Tauler  of  Strasburg,  in  the  and  Theos- 
fourteenth   century,  whose  ser-  ophists. 
mons  in  the  native  language,  which,  how- 
ever, are  supposed  to  have  been  transla- 
ted from  Latin,  are  full  of  what  many 
have  called  by  the  vague  word  mysticism, 
an  intense  aspiration  for  the  union  of  the 
soul   with   God.      An   anonymous  work 
generally  entitled  The  German  Theology, 
written  in  the  fifteenth  century,  pursues 
the  same  track  of  devotional  thought.     It 
was  a  favourite  book  with  Luther,  and  was 
translated  into  Latin  by  Castalio.*   These, 
indeed,  are  to  be   considered   chiefly  as 
theological ;  but.   the   study  of  them  led 
readily  to    a   state   of  mental   emotion, 
wherein   a  dogmatic   pseudo-philosophy, 
like  that  of  Paracelsus,  abounding  with 
assertions  that  imposed  on  the  imagina- 
tion,  and   appealing  frequently   both  to 
scriptural  authority  and  the  evidence  of 
inward  light,  was  sure  to  be  favourably 
received.     The  mystics,  therefore,  and  the 
theosophists  belonged  to  the  same  class, 
and  it  is  not  uncommon  to  use  the  names 
indifferently. 

19.  It  may  appear  not  here  required  to 
dwell  on  a  subject  scarcely  falling 
under  any  province  of  literary  histo-  F 
ry,  but  two  writers  within  this  period  have 
been  sufficiently  distinguished  to  deserve 


*  Episcopius  places  the  author  of  the  Theologia 
Germanica.with  Henry  Nicolas  and  David  George 
among  mere  enthusiasts. 


FROM  1600  TO  1650. 


65 


mention.  One  of  these  was  Robert  Fludd, 
an  English  physician,  who  died  in  1637  ; 
a  man  of  indefatigable  diligence  in  collect- 
ing the  dreams  and  follies  of  past  ages, 
blending  them  in  a  portentous  combina- 
tion with  new  fancies  of  his  own.  The 
Rabbinical  and  Cabalistic  authors,  as  well 
as  the  Paracelsists,  the  writers  on  magic, 
and  whatever  was  most  worthy  to  be  re- 
jected and  forgotten,  form  the  basis  of  his 
creed.  Among  his  numerous  works,  the 
most  known  was  his  "  Mosaic  Philoso- 
phy," in  which,  like  many  before  his  time 
as  well  as  since,  he  endeavoured  to  build 
a  scheme  of  physical  philosophy  on  the 
first  chapters  in  Genesis.  I  do  not  know 
whether  he  found  there  his  two  grand 
principles  or  forces  of  nature  ;  a  northern 
force  of  condensation,  and  a  southern  force 
of  dilatation.  These  seem  to  be  the  Par- 
menidian  cold  and  heat,  expressed  in  a 
jargon  affected  in  order  to  make  dupes. 
In  peopling  the  universe  with  dsemons, 
and  in  ascribing  all  phsenomena  to  their 
invisible  agency,  he  pursued  the  steps  of 
Agrippa  and  Paracelsus,  or,  rather,  of  the 
whole  school  of  fanatics  and  impostors 
called  magical.  He  took  also  from  older 
writers  the  doctrine  of  a  constant  analogy 
between  universal  nature,  or  the  macro- 
cosm, and  that  of  man,  or  the  microcosm  ; 
so  that  what  was  known  in  one  might  lead 
us  to  what  was  unknown  in  the  other.* 
Fludd  possessed,  however,  some  acquaint- 
ance with  science,  especially  in  chymis- 
try  and  mechanics ;  and  his  rhapsodies 
were  so  far  from  being  universally  con- 
temned in  his  own  age,  that  Gassendi 
thought  it  not  unworthy  of  him  to  enter 
into  a  prolix  confutation  of  the  Fluddian 
philosophy.f 

20.  Jacob  Behmen,  or,  rather,  Boehm, 
Jacob  Beh-  a  shoemaker  of  Gorlitz,  is  far 
men.  more  generally  familiar  to  our 
ears  than  his  contemporary  Fludd.  He 
was,  however,  much  inferior  to  him  in 
reading,  and,  in  fact,  seems  to  have  read 
little  but  the  Bible  and  the  writings  of 
Paracelsus.  He  recounts  the  visions  and 
ecstasies  during  which  a  supernatural  il- 
lumination had  been  conveyed  to  him.  It 
came,  indeed,  without  the  gift  of  transfer- 
ring the  light  to  others ;  for  scarce  any 
have  been  able  to  pierce  the  clouds  in 
which  his  meaning  has  been  charitably 
presumed  to  lie  hid.  The  chief  work  of 


1  This  was  a  favourite  doctrine  of  Paracelsus. 
Campanella  was  much  too  fanciful  not  to  embrace 
it.  Mundus,  he  says,  habet  spiritum  quid  est  coe- 
luin,  crassum  corpus  quod  est  terra,  sangtiinem  qui 
est  mare.  Homo  igitur  compendium  epilogusque 
mundi  est. — De  Seiisu  Rerum,  1.  ii.,  c.  32. 

t  Brucker.  iv.,  691.     Buhle,  iii.,  157. 

VOL.  II.— I 


Behmen  is  his  Aurora,  written  about  1612, 
and  containing  a  record  of  the  visions 
wherein  the  mysteries  of  nature  were  re- 
vealed toJftm.  It  was  not  published  till 
1641.  Hens  said  to  have  been  a  man  of 
great  goodness  of  heart,  which  his  wri- 
tings display ;  but  in  literature,  this  can- 
not give  a  sanction  to  the  incoherences 
of  madness.  His  language,  as  far  as  I 
have  seen  any  extracts  from  his  works,  is 
coloured  with  the  phraseology  of  the  al- 
chymists  and  astrologers  ;  as  for  his  phi- 
losophy, so  to  style  it,  we  find,  according  to 
Brucker,  who  has  taken  some  pains  with 
the  subject,  manifest  traces  of  the  system 
of  emanation,  so  ancient  and  so  attract- 
ive ;  and  from  this  and  several  other  rea- 
sons, he  is  inclined  to  think  the  unlearned 
shoemaker  of  Gorlitz  must  have  had  as- 
sistance from  men  of  more  education  in 
developing  his  visions.*  But  the  emana- 
tive  theory  is  one  into  which  a  mind  ab- 
sorbed in  contemplation  may  very  natu- 
rally fall.  Behmen  had  his  disciples, 
which  such  enthusiasts  rarely  want ;  and 
his  name  is  sufficiently  known  to  justify 
the  mention  of  it  even  in  philosophical 
history. 

21.  We  come  now  to  an  English  writer 
of  a  different  class,  little  known  i,ord  Herbert 
as  such  at  present,  but  who,  Ue  Veriiate. 
without  doing  much  good  for  the  advance- 
ment of  metaphysical  philosophy,  had  at 
least  the  merit  of  devoting  to  it,  with  a 
sincere  and  independent  spirit,  the  leisure 
of  high  rank,  and  of  a  life  not  obscure  in 
the  world — Lord  Herbert  of  Cherbury. 
The  principal  work  of  this  remarkable 
man  is  his  Latin  treatise,  published  in 
1624,  "  On  Truth  as  it  is  distinguished 
from  Revelation,  from  Probability,  from 
Possibility,  and  from  Falsehood."  Its  ob- 
ject is  to  inquire  what  are  the  sure  means 
of  discerning  and  discovering  truth.  This, 
as,  like  other  authors,  he  sets  out  by  pro- 
claiming, had  been  hitherto  done  by  no 
one,  and  he  treats  both  ancient  and  mod- 
ern philosophers  rather  haughtily,  as  being 
men  tied  to  particular  opinions,  from  which 
they  dare  not  depart.  "  It  is  not  from  a 
hypocritical  or  mercenary  writer  that  we 
are  to  look  for  perfect  truth.  Their  in- 
terest is  not  to  lay  aside  their  mask,  or 
think  for  themselves.  A  liberal  and  inde- 
pendent author  alone  will  do  this."f  So 
general  an  invective  after  Lord  Bacon, 
and,  indeed,  after  others,  like  Campanella, 


*  Brucker,  iv.,  698. 

t  Non  est  igitur  a  larvato  aliquo  ve.  stipendioso 
scriptore  ut  verurn  consummatum  opperiaris  :  Illo- 
rum  apprime  interest  ne  personam  deponant,  vel  al- 
iter  quidem  sentiant.  Ingenuus  et  sui  arbitrii  ista 
solurnmodo  praestabit  auctor.— Epist.  ad  Lectorem. 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


who  could  not  oe  charged  with  following 
any  conceits  rather  than  their  own,  be- 
speaks either  ignorance  of  philosophical 
literature,  or  a  supercilious  negtect  of  it. 

22.  Lord  Herbert  lays  down  Ifcven  pri- 

mary axioms.     1.  Truth  exists: 
His  axioms.  Q   I(.  ig  coevai  wjth  the  things  to 

which  it  relates  :  3.  It  exists  everywhere  : 
4.  It  is  self-evident  :*  5.  There  are  as 
many  truths  as  there  are  differences  in 
things :  6.  These  differences  are  made 
known  to  us  by  our  natural  faculties  :  7. 
There  is  a  truth  belonging  to  these  truths  : 
"Est  veritas  quaedam  harum  veritatum." 
This  axiom  he  explains  as  obscurely  as  it 
is  strangely  expressed.  All  truth  he  then 
distinguishes  into  the  truth  of  the  thing  or 
object,  the  truth  of  the  appearance,  the 
truth  of,  the  perception,  and  the  truth  of 
the  understanding.  The  truth  of  the  ob- 
ject is  the  inherent  conformity  of  the  ob- 
ject with  itself,  or  that  which  makes  eve- 
rything what  it  is.f  The  truth  of  appear- 
ance is  the  conditional  conformity  of  the 
appearance  with  the  object.  The  truth  of 
perception  is  the  conditional  conformity 
of  our  senses  (facultates  nostras  prodro- 
mas)  with  the  appearances  of  things.  The 
truth  of  understanding  is  the  due  conform- 
ity between  the  aforesaid  conformities. 
All  truth,  therefore,  is  conformity,  all  con- 
formity relation.  Three  things  are  to  be 
observed  in  every  inquiry  after  truth  :  the 
thing  or  object,  the  sense  or  faculty,  and 
the  laws  or  conditions  by  which  its  con- 
formity or  relation  is  determined.  Lord 
Herbert  is  so  obscure,  partly  by  not  thor- 
oughly grasping  his  subject,  partly  by 
writing  in  Latin,  partly  perhaps  by  the 
"  sphalmata  et  errata  in  typographo,  quae- 
dam fortasse  in  seipso,'"1  of  which  he  com- 
plains at  the  end,  that  it  has  been  neces- 
sary to  omit  several  sentences  as  unintel- 
ligible, though  what  I  have  just  given  is 
far  enough  from  being  too  clear: 

23.  Truth,  he  goes  on  to  say,  exists  as 
Conditions  to  the  object  or  outward  thing  it- 
of  tru-h.     seif;  When  our  facuities  are  capa- 
ble of  determining  everything  concerning 
it ;  but,  though  this  definition  is  exact,  it 
is  doubtful  whether  any  such  truth  exists 
in  nature.     The  first  condition  of  discern- 
ing truth  in  things   is  that  they  should 
have  a  relation  to  ourselves  (ut  intra  nos- 
tram  stet  anategiam) ;  since  multitudes  of 


*  Hasc  veritas  est  in  se  manifesta.  He  observes 
that  what  are  called  false  appearances  are  true  as 
such,  though  not  true  according  to  the  reality  of 
the  object :  sua  veritas  apparently  falsae  inest,  vero 
enim  ita  apparebit,  vera  tamep  ex  veritate  rei  non 
cnt, 

t  Inhsrens  ilia  conformitas  rei  cum  seipsa,  sive 
ilia  ratio,  ex  qua  rei  unaquaeque  sibi  constat. 


things  may  exist  which  the  sense  cannot 
discover.  The  three  chief  conditions  of 
this  condition  seem  to  be :  1.  That  it 
should  be  of  a  proper  size,  neither  im- 
mense, nor  too  small ;  2.  That  it  should 
have  its  determining  difference,  or  princi- 
ple of  individuation,  to  distinguish  it  from 
other  things  ;  3.  That  it  should  be  accom- 
modated to  some  sense  or  perceptive  facul- 
ty. These  are  the  universally  necessary 
conditions  of  truth  (that  is,  of  knowledge) 
as  it  regards  the  object.  The  truth  of 
appearance  depends  on  others,  which  are 
more  particular;  as  that  the  object  should 
be  perceived  for  a  sufficient  time,  through 
a  proper  medium,  at  a  due  distance,  in  a 
proper  situation.*  Truth  of  perception  is 
conditional  also,  and  its  conditions  are, 
that  the  sense  should  be  sound,  and  the 
attention  directed  towards  it.  Truth  of 
understanding  depends  on  the  Koivat  evvoim, 
the  common  notions  possessed  by  every 
man  of  sane  mind,  and  implanted  by  na- 
ture. The  understanding  teaches  us,  by 
means  of  these,  that  infinity  and  eternity 
exist,  though  our  senses  cannot  perceive 
them.  The  understanding  deals  also  with 
universals,  and  truth  is  known  as  to  uni- 
versals  when  the  particulars  are  rightly 
apprehended. 

24.  Our  faculties  are  as  numerous  a? 
the  differences  of  things ;  and  instinctive 
thus  it  is  that  the  world  corre-  t""1'8- 
sponds  by  perfect  analogy  to  the  human 
soul,  degrees  of  perception  being  as  much 
distinct  from  one  another  as  different 
modes  of  it.  All  our  powers  may,  howev- 
er,  be  reduced  to  four  heads  :  natural  in 
stinct,  internal  perception,  external  sensa- 
tion, and  reason.  What  is  not  known  by 
one  of  these  four  means  cannot  be  known 
at  all.  Instinctive  truths  are  proved  by 
universal  consent.  Here  he  comes  to  hii 
general  basis  of  religion,  maintaining  the 
existence  of  KOIVOI  evvoiai,  or  common  no 
tions  of  mankind  on  that  subject,  princi  • 
pies  against  which  no  one  can  dispute 
without  violating  the  laws  of  his  nature. f 
Natural  instinct  he  defines  to  be  an  act  of 
those  faculties  existing  in  every  man  of 
sane  mind,  by  which  the  common  notions 
as  to  the  relations  of  things  not  perceived 
by  the  senses  (rerum  internarum),  and  es- 


*  Lord  Herbert  defines  appearance,  icetypum, 
seu  forma  vicaria  rei,  qua?  sub  conditionibus  istis 
cum  prototype  suoconformata,  cumconceptudenuo 
sub  conditionibus  etiam  suis,  conformari  et  modo 
quodam  spiritual},  tanquam  ab  objecto  decisa,  etiam 
in  objecti  absentia  conserved  potest. 

t  Principia  ilia  sacrosancta,  contra  quae  disputare 
nefas,  p.  44.  I  have  translated  this  in  the  best 
sense  I  could  give  it ;  but  to  use  fas  or  nefas  before 
we  have  defined  their  meaning  or  proved  their  ex- 
istence, is  but  indifferent  logic. 


FROM  1600  TO  1650. 


67 


pecially  such  as  tend  to  the  conservation 
of  the  individual,  of  the  species,  and  of  the 
whole,  are  formed  without  any  process 
of  reasoning.  These  common  notions, 
though  excited  in  us  by  the  objects  of 
sense,  are  not  conveyed  to  us  by  them  ; 
they  are  implanted  in  us  by  nature,  so 
that  God  seems  to  have  imparted  to  us  not 
only  a  part  of  his  image,  but  of  his  wis- 
dom,* And  whatever  is  understood  and 
perceived  by  all  men  alike,  deserves  to  be 
accounted  one  of  these  notions.  Some  of 
them  are  instinctive,  others  are  deduced 
from  such  as  are.  The  former  are  dis- 
tinguishable by  six  marks  :  priority,  inde- 
pendence, universality,  certainty,  so  that 
no  man  can  doubt  them  without  putting 
off,  as  it  were,  his  nature  ;  necessity,  that 
is,  usefulness  for  the  preservation  of  man ; 
lastly,  intuitive  apprehension,  for  these 
common  notions  do  not  require  to  be  in- 
ferred.f 

25.  Internal  perceptions  denote  the  con- 
intcmaiper-  formity  of  objects  with  those 
ceptions.       faculties  existing  in  every  man 
of  sane  mind,  which,  being  developed  by 
his  natural  instinct,  are  conversant  with 
the  internal  relations  of  things,  in  a  sec- 
ondary and  particular  manner,   and    by 
means  of  natural  instinct.^    By  this  ill- 
worded  definition  he  probably  intends  to 
distinguish  the  general  power,  or  instinct- 
ive knowledge,  from  its  exercise  and  ap- 
plication in   any  instance.     But   I   have 
found  it  very  difficult  to  follow  Lord  Her- 
bert.    It  is  by  means,  he  says,  of  these 
internal  senses  that  we  discern  the  nature 
of  things  in  their  intrinsic   relations,  or 
hidden  types  of  being. §     And  it  is  neces- 
sary well  to  distinguish  the  conforming 
faculty  in  the  mind,  or  internal  perception, 
from  the  bodily  sense.     The  cloudiness 
of  his  expression  increases  as  we  pro- 
ceed, and  in  many  pages  I  cannot  venture 
to  translate   or  abridge  it.     The   injudi- 
cious use  of  a  language  in  which  he  did 
not  write  with  facility,  and  which  is  not 
very  well  adapted,  at  the  best,  to  meta- 
physical  disquisition,  has   doubtless   in- 
creased the  perplexity  into  which  he  has 
thrown  his  readers. 

26.  In  the  conclusion  of  this  treatise, 
Five  notions  Herbert  lays  down  the  five  com- 
of  natural      mon  notions  of  natural  religion, 
religion.       implanted,  as  he  conceives,  in 


*  P.  48.  f  P.  60. 

t  Sensus  interni  sunt  actus  cqnformitatum  pb- 
jectorum  cum  facultatibus  illis  in  omni  homine 
sano  et  integro  existentibus,  quae  ab  instinctu  nat- 
ural! expositae,  circa  analogiam  rerum  internam, 
particulariter,  secondario,  et  ratione  instinctus  nat- 
uralis  versantur,  p.  66. 

()  Circa  analogiam  rerum  internarn,  sive  signatu- 
ras  ct  characteras  rerum  penitiores  versantur,  p.  68. 


the  breasts  of  all  mankind.  1.  That  there 
is-  a  God :  2.  That  he  ought  to  be  wor- 
shipped :  3.  That  virtue  and  piety  are  the 
chief  parts  of  worship :  4.  That  we  are 
to  repent  and  turn  from  our  sins  :  5.  That 
there  are  rewards  and  punishments  in  an- 
other life.*  Nothing  can  be  admitted  in 
religion  which  contradicts  these  primary 
notions ;  but  if  any  one  has  a  revelation 
from  Heaven  in  addition  to  these,  which 
may  happen  to  him  sleeping  or  waking, 
he  should  keep  it  to  himself,  since  no- 
thing can  be  of  importance  to  the  human 
race  which  is  not  established  by  the  evi- 
dence of  their  common  faculties.  Nor 
can  anything  be  known  to  be  revealed 
which  is  not  revealed  to  ourselves ;  all 
else  being  tradition  and  historic  testimo- 
ny, which  does  not  amount  to  knowledge. 
The  specific  difference  of  man  from  other 
animals  he  makes  not  reason,  but  the  ca- 
pacity of  religion.  It  is  a  curious  coinci- 
dence, that  John  Wesley  has  said  some- 
thing of  the  same  kind.f  It  is  also  re- 
markable that  we  find  in  another  work  of 
Lord  Herbert,  De  Religione  Gentilium, 
which  dwells  again  on  his  five  articles  of 
natural  religion,  essential,  as  he  expressly 
lays  it  down,  to  salvation,  the  same  illus- 
tration of  the  being  of  a  Deity  from  the 
analogy  of  a  watch  or  clock,  which  Paley 
has  since  employed.  I  believe  that  it  oc- 
curs in  an  intermediate  writer.! 

27.  Lord  Herbert  sent  a  copy  of  his 
treatise  De  Veritate,  several  Remarit8  of 
years  after  its  publication,  to  Gassendion 
Gassendi.  We  have  a  letter  to  Herbert- 
the  noble  author  in  the  third  volume  of 
the  works  of  that  philosopher,  showing, 
in  the  candid  and  sincere  spirit  natural  to 
him,  the  objections  that  struck  his  mind 
in  reading  the  book.§  Gassendi  observes 
that  the  distinctions  of  four  kinds  of  truth 
are  not  new  ;  the  veritas  rei  of  Lord  Her- 
bert being  what  is  usually  called  sub- 
stance ;  his  veritas  apparentiae  no  more 
than  accident;  and  the  other  two  being 
only  sense  and  reason.  Gassendi  seems 


*  P.  222. 

t  I  have  somewhere  read  a  profound  remark  of 
Wesley,  that,  considering  the  sagacity  which  many 
animals  display,  we  cannot  fix  upon  reason  as  the 
distinction  between  them  and  man  :  the  true  differ 
ence  is,  that  we  are  formed  to  know  God,  and  they 
are  not. 

$  Et  quidem  si  horologium  per  diem  et  noctem 
integram  horas  signanter  indicans,  viderit  quispiam 
non  mente  captus,  id  consilio  arteque  summa  fac- 
tum  judicaverit.  Ecquis  non  plane  demens,  qui 
hanc  mundi  machinam  non  per  viginti  quatuor  ho- 
ras tantum,  sed  per  tot  sajcula  circuitus  suos  obe- 
untem  animadverterit,  non  id  omne  sapientissimo 
utique  potentissimoque  alicui  autori  tribuat? — Da 
Relig.  Gentil.,  cap.  xiii. 

§  Gassendi,  Opera,  iii ,  411. 


68 


LITERATURE  OF  EUKOPE 


not  wholly  to  approve,  but  gives,  as  the 
best,  a  definition  of  truth  little  differing 
from  Herbert's,  the  agreement  of  the  cog- 
nizant intellect  with  the  thing  known : 
"  Intellects  cognoscentis  cum  re  cognita 
congruentia."  The  obscurity  of  the  trea- 
tise De  Veritate  could  ill  suit  an  under- 
standing like  that  of  Gassendi,  always 
tending  to  acquire  clear  conceptions  ;  and 
though  he  writes  with  great  civility,  it  is 
not  without  smartly  opposing  what  he 
does  not  approve.  The  aim  of  Lord  Her- 
bert's work,  he  says,  is  that  the  intellect 
may  pierce  into  the  nature  of  things, 
knowing  them  as  they  are  in  themsejves, 
without  the  fallacies  of  appearance  and 
sense.  But  for  himself  he  confesses  that 
such  knowledge  he  has  always  found 
above  him,  and  that  he  is  in  darkness 
when  he  attempts  to  investigate  the  real 
nature  of  the  least  thing ;  making  many 
of  the  observations  on  this  which  we  read 
also  in  Locke.  And  he  well  says  that  we 
have  enough  for  our  use  in  the  accidents 
or  appearances  of  things  without  knowing 
their  substances,  in  reply  to  Herbert,  who 
had  declared  that  we  should  be  miserably 
deficient,  if,  while  nature  has  given  us 
senses  to  discern  sounds  and  colours,  and 
such  fleeting  qualities  of  things,  we  had 
no  sure  road  to  internal,  eternal,  and  ne- 
cessary truths.*  The  universality  of  those 
innate  principles,  especially  moral  and  re- 
ligious, on  which  his  correspondent  had 
built  so  much,  is  doubted  by  Gassendi  on 
the  usual  grounds,  that  many  have  denied 
or  been  ignorant  of  them.  The  letter  is 
imperfect,  some  sheets  of  the  autograph 
having  been  lost. 

28.  Too  much  space  may  seem  to  have 
been  bestowed  on  a  writer  who  cannot  be 
ranked  high  among  metaphysicians.  But 
Lord  Herbert  was  not  only  a  distinguish- 
ed name,  but  may  claim  the  precedence 
among  those  philosophers  in  England.  If 
his  treatise  De  Veritate  is  not,  as  an  en- 
tire work,  very  successful,  or  always  found- 
ed upon  principles  which  have  stood  the 
test  of  severe  reflection,  it  is  still  a  mon- 
ument of  an  original,  independent  thinker, 
without  rhapsodies  of  imagination,  with- 
out pedantic  technicalities,  arid,  above  all, 
bearing  witness  to  a  sincere  love  of  the 
truth  he  sought  to  apprehend.  The  ambi- 
tious expectation  that  the  real  essences  of 
things  might  be  discovered,  if  it  were 
truly  his,  as  Gassendi  seems  to  suppose, 
could  not  be  warranted  by  anything,  at 


*  Misere  nobiscum  actum  esset,  si  ad  percipien- 
dos  colores,  sonos  et  qualitates  caHeras  caducas  at- 
que  momentaneas  subessent  media,  nulla  autem  ad 
veritates  illas  internas,  seternas,  necessarias  sine  er- 
rore  superesset  via. 


least,  within  the  knowledge  of  that  age. 
But,  from  some  expressions  of  Herbert,  I 
should  infer  that  he  did  not  think  our  fac- 
ulties competent  to  solve  the  whole  prob- 
lem of  quiddity,  as  the  logicians  called  it, 
or  the  real  nature  of  anything,  at  least, 
objectively  without  us.*  He  is,  indeed, 
so  obscure,  that  I  will  not  vouch  for  his 
entire  consistency.  It  has  been  an  addi- 
tional motive  to  say  as  much  as  I  have 
done  concerning  Lord  Herbert,  that  I 
know  not  where  any  account  of  his  trea- 
tise De  Veritate 'will  be  found.  Brucker 
is  strangely  silent  about  this  writer,  and 
Buhle  has  merely  adverted  to  the  letter  of 
Gassendi.  Descartes  has  spoken  of  Lord 
Herbert's  book  with  much  respect,  though 
several  of  their  leading  principles  were 
far  from  the  same.  It  was  translated  into 
French  in  1639,  and  this  translation  he 
found  less  difficult  than  the  original.! 

29.  Gassendi  himself  ought,  perhaps,  to 
be  counted  wholly  among  the  phi-  Gassendi's 
losophers  of  this  period,  since  defence  of 
many  of  his  writings  were  pub-  EP'curus- 
lished,  and  all  may  have  been  completed 
within  it.  They  are  contained  in  six  large 
folio  volumes,  rather  closely  printed.  The 
Exercitationes  Paradoxica3,  published  in 
1524,  are  the  earliest.  These  contain  an 
attack  on  the  logic  of  Aristotle,  the  for- 
tress that  so  many  bold  spirits  were  eager 
to  assail.  But  in  more  advanced  life  Gas- 
sendi withdrew,  in  great  measure,  from 
this  warfare ;  and  his  Logic,  in  the  Syn- 
tagma Philosophicum,  the  record  of  his 
latest  opinions,  is  chiefly  modelled  on  the 
Aristotelian,  with  sufficient  commendation 
of  its  author.  In  the  study  of  ancient 
philosophy,  however,  Gassendi  was  im- 
pressed with  an  admiration  of  Epicurus. 
His  physical  theory,  founded  on  corpus- 
cles and  a  vacuum ;  his  ethics,  in  their 
principles  and  precepts  ;  his  rules  of  logic 
and  guidance  of  the  intellect,  seemed  to 


*  Cum  facultates  nostrae  ad  analogiam  propriam 
terminate  quidditates  rerum  intimas  non  pene- 
trent :  ideo  quid  res  naturalis  in  seipsa  sit,  tali  ex 
analogia  ad  nos  ut  sit  constituta,  perfecte  sciri  non 
potest,  p.  165.  Instead  of  sit,  it  might  be  better  to 
read  est.  In  another  place,  he  says  it  is  doubtful 
whether  anything  exists  in  nature  concerning  which 
we  have  a  complete  knowledge.  The  eternal  and 
necessary  truths  which  Herbert  contends  for  our 
knowing,  seem  to  have  been  his  communes  notitise, 
subjectively  understood,  rather  than  such  as  relate 
to  external  objects. 

t  Descartes,  vol.  viii,  p.  138  and  168.  J'y  trouv6 
plusieurs  choses  fort  bonnes,  sed  nonpublici  saporis , 
car  il  y  a  peu  de  personnes  qui  soient  capables  d'en 
tendre  la  metaphysique.  Et,  pour  le  general  du 
jivre,  il  tient  un  chemin  fort  different  de  celui  qua 
j'ai  suivi.  .  .  .  Enfin,  par  conclusion,  encore  que  je 
ne  puisse  m'accorder  en  tout  aux  sentimens  de  cet 
auteur,  je  ne  laisse  pas  de  1'estimer  beaucoup  au 
dessus  de  esprits  ordinaires. 


FROM  1600  TO  1650. 


69 


trie  cool  and  independent  mind  of  the 
French  philosopher  more  worthy  of  re- 
gard than  the  opposite  schemes  prevail- 
ing in  the  schools,  and  not  to  be  rejected 
on  account  of  any  discredit  attached  to 
the  name.  Combining  with  the  Epicu- 
rean physics  and  ethics  the  religious  ele- 
ment which  had  been  unnecessarily  dis- 
carded from  the  philosophy  of  the  Gar- 
den, Gassendi  displayed  both  in  a  form  no 
longer  obnoxious.  The  Syntagma  Philo- 
sophise Epicuri,  published  in  1649,  is  an 
elaborate  vindication  of  this  system,  which 
he  had  previously  expounded  in  a  com- 
mentary on  the  tenth  book  of  Diogenes 
Laertius.  He  had  already  effaced  the 
prejudices  against  Epicurus  himself,  whom 
he  seems  to  have  regarded  with  the  affec- 
tion of  a  disciple,  in  a  biographical  trea- 
tise on  his  life  and  moral  character. 

30.  Gassendi  died  in  1656  ;  the  Syntag- 
His  chief  ma  Philosophicum,  his  greatest 
works  after  as  well  as  last  work,  in  which 
1650-  it  is  natural  to  seek  the  whole 

scheme  of  his  philosophy,  was  published 
by  his  friend  Sorbiere  in  1658.  We  may 
therefore  properly  defer  the  consideration 
of  his  metaphysical  writings  to  the  next 
period ;  but  the  controversy  in  which  he 
was  involved  with  Descartes  will  render 
it  necessary  to  bring  his  name  forward 
igain  before  the  close  of  this  chapter. 


/        SECTION  II. 
On  the  Philosophy  of  Lord  Bacon. 

31.  IT  may  be  judged,  from  what  has 
Preparation  been  said  in  the  former  volume, 
for  the  phi-  as  well  as  in  our  last  pages,  that, 
osophy  of  at  the  beginning  of  tne  seven. 

teenth  century,  the  higher  philosophy, 
which  »is  concerned  with  general  truth, 
and  the  means  of  knowing  it,  had  been 
little  benefited  by  the  labours  of  any  mod- 
ern inquirer.  It  was  become,  indeed,  no 
strange  thing,  at  least  out  of  the  air  of  a 
college,  to  question  the  authority  of  Aris- 
totle ;  but  his  disciples  pointed  with  scorn 
at  the  endeavours  which  had  as  yet  been 
made  to  supplant  it,  and  asked  whether 
the  wisdom  so  long  reverenced  was  to  be 
set  aside  for  the  fanatical  reveries  of  Par- 
acelsus, the  unintelligible  chimeras  '  of 
Bruno,  or  the  more  plausible,  but  arbitra- 
ry hypotheses  of  Telesio. 

32.  Francis  Bacon  was  born  in  1561.* 


*  Those  who  place  Lord  Bacon's  birth  in  1560,  as 
Mr.  Montagu  has  done,  must  be  understood  to  fol- 
low the  old  style,  which  creates  some  confusion. 
He  was  born  the  22d  of  January,  and  died  the  9th 
>  tp  J,  1626,  in  the  sixty-sixth  year  of  his  age,  as 


He  came  to  years  of  manhood  ,  „, 

.    ,,       ,.  -v         nil  Lord  Bacon 

at  the  time  when  England  was 
rapidly  emerging  from  ignorance  and  ob- 
solete methods  of  study,  in  an  age  of  pow- 
erful minds,  full  himself  of  ambition,  con- 
fidence, and  energy.  If  we  think  on  the 
public  history  of  Bacon,  even  during  the 
least  public  portion  of  it,  philosophy  must 
appear  to  have  been  but  his  amusement ; 
it  was  by  his  hours  of  leisure,  by  time 
hardly  missed  from  the  laborious  study 
and  practice  of  the  law,  and  from  the  as- 
siduities of  a  courtier's  life,  that  he  became 
the  father  of  modern  science.  This  union 
of  an  active  with  a  reflecting  life  had  been 
the  boast  of  some  ancients,  of  Cicero  and 
Antonine  ;  but  what  comparison,  in  depth 
and  originality,  between  their  philosophy 
and  that  of  Bacon  * 

33.  This  wonderful   man,  in  sweeping 
round  the  champaign  of  univer-  His  plan  of 
sal  science  with  his  powerful  ge-  philosophy, 
nius,  found  as  little  to  praise  in  the  re- 
cent as  in  the  ancient  methods  of  investi- 
gating truth.     He  liked  as  little  the  em- 
pirical presumption  of  drawing  conclusions 
from  a  partial  experience  as  the  sophisti- 
cal dogmatism  which  relied  on  unwarrant- 
ed axioms  and  verbal  chicane.     All,  he 
thought,  was  to  be  constructed  anew ;  the 
investigation  of  facts,  their  arrangement 
for  the  purposes  of  inquiry,  the  process 
of  eliciting  from  them  the  required  truth. 
And  for  this  he  saw  that,  above   all,  a 
thorough  purgation   of  the   mind  itself 
would  be  necessary,  by  pointing  out  its 
familiar  errors,  their  sources,  and  their 
remedies. 

34.  It  is  not  exactly  known  at  what  age 
Bacon  first  conceived  the  scheme  Time  of  its 
of  a  comprehensive  philosophy,  conception. 
but  it  was,  by  his  own  account,  very  early 
in  life.*     Such  noble  ideas  are  most  con- 


we  are  told  in  his  life  by  Rawley,  the  best  authority 
we  have. 

*  In  a  letter  to  Father  Fulgentio,  which  bears  no 
date  in  print,  but  must  have  been  written  about 
1621,  he  refers  to  a  juvenile  work  about  forty  years 
before,  which  he  had  confidently  entitled  The 
Greatest  Birth  of  Time.  Bacon  says :  Equidem 
memini  me  quadraginta  abhinc  annis  juvenile  opus- 
culum  circa  has  res  confecisse,  quod  magna  pror- 
sus  CHucia  et  magnifico  titulo,  "  Temporis  partum 
maximum"  inscripsi.  The  apparent  vainglory  of 
this  title  is  somewhat  extenuated  by  the  sense  he 
gave  to  the  phrase  Birth  of  Time.  He  meant  that 
the  lapse  of  time  and  long  experience  were  the  nat- 
ural sources  of  a  better  philosophy,  as  he  says  in 
his  dedication  of  the  Instauratio  Magna  :  Ipse 
certe,  ut  ingenue  fateor,  soleo  sestimare  hoc  opus 
uiagis  pro  partu  temporis  quam  ingenii.  lllud  enim 
in  eo  solummodo  mirabile  est.initia  rei,  et  tantasde 
iis  quse  invaluerunt  suspiciones,  alicui  in  mentem 
venire  potuisse.  Cjetera  non  illibenter  sequuntur. 

No  treatise  with  this  precise  title  appears.  But 
we  find  prefixed  to  some  of  the  short  pieces  a  gen- 
eral title,  Temporis  Partus  Masculus,  sive  Instau- 


70 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


genial  to  the  sanguine  spirit  of  youth,  and 
to  its  ignorance  of  the  extent  of  labour  it 
undertakes.  In  the  dedication  of  the  No- 
vum  Organum  to  James  in  1620,  he  says 
that  he  had  been  about  some  such  work 
near  thirty  years,  "so  as  I  made  no 
haste."  "And  the  reason,"  he  adds, 
"  why  I  have  published  it  now,  specially 
being  imperfect,  is,  to  speak  plainly,  be- 
cause I  number  my  days,  and  would  have 
it  saved.  There  is  another  reason  of  my 
so  doing,  which  is  to  try  whether  I  can 
get  help  in  one  intended  part  of  this  work, 
namely,  the  compiling  of  a  natural  and 
experimental  history,  which  must  be  the 
main  foundation  of  a  true  and  active  phi- 
losophy." He  may  be  presumed  at  least 
to  have  made  a  very  considerable  prog- 
ress in  his  undertaking  before  the  close  of 
the  sixteenth  century.  But  it  was  first 
promulgated  to  the  world  by  the  publica- 
tion of  his  Treatise  on  the  Advancement 
of  Learning  in  1605.  In  this,  indeed,  the 
whole  of  the  Baconian  philosophy  may  be 
said  to  be  implicitly  contained,  except, 


ratio  Magna  Imperil  Universi  in  Humanum.  These 
treatises,  however,  though  earlier  than  his  great 
works,  cannot  be  referred  to  so  juvenile  a  period  as 
his  letter  to  Fulgentio  intimates ;  and  I  should  rath- 
er incline  to  suspect  that  the  opusculum  to  which  he 
there  refers  has  not  been  preserved.  Mr.  Montagu 
is  of  a  different  opinion.  See  his  Note  I.  to  the 
Life  of  Bacon  in  vol.  xvi.  of  his  edition.  The 
Latin  tract  De  Interpretatione  Naturae  Mr.  M.  sup- 
poses to  be  the  germe  of  the  Instauratio,  as  the 
Cogitata  et  Visa  are  of  the  Novum  Organum.  I 
do  not  dissent  from  this ;  but  the  former  bears 
marks  of  having  been  written  after  Bacon  had  been 
immersed  in  active  life.  The  most  probable  con- 
jecture appears  to  be,  that  he  very  early  perceived 
the  meagerness  and  imperfection  of  the  academical 
course  of  philosophy,  and  of  all  others  which  fell 
in  his  way,  and  formed  the  scheme  of  affording 
something  better  from  his  own  resources :  but  that 
he  did  not  commit  much  to  paper,  nor  had  planned 
his  own  method  till  after  he  was  turned  of  thirty, 
which  his  letter  to  the  king  intimates. 

In  a  recent  and  very  brilliant  sketch  of  the  Ba- 
conian philosophy  (Edinb.  Review,  July,  1837),  the 
two  leading  principles  that  distinguish  it  through- 
out all  its  parts  are  justly  denominated  utility  and 
progress.  To  do  good  to  mankind,  and  do  more 
and  more  good,  are  the  ethics  of  its  inductive 
method.  We  may  only  regret  that  the  ingenious 
author  of  this  article  has  been  hurried  sometimes 
into  the  low  and  contracted  view  of  the  deceitful 
word  utility,  which  regards  rather  the  enjoyments 
of  physical  convenience  than  the  general  well-being 
of  the  individual  and  the  species.  If  Bacon  looked 
more  frequently  to  the  former,  it  was  because  so 
large  a  portion  of  his  writings  relates  to  physical 
observation  and  experiment.  But  it  was  far  enough 
from  his  design  to  set  up  physics  in  any  sort  of  op- 
position to  ethics,  much  less  in  a  superior  light.  I 
dissent  also  from  some  of  the  observations  in  this 
article,  lively  as  they  are,  which  tend  to  depreciate 
ne  originality  and  importance  of  the  Baconian 
methods.  The  reader  may  turn  to  a  note  on  this 
subject  by  Dugald  Stewart,  at  the  end  of  the  pres- 
ent section. 


perhaps,  the  second  book  of  the  Novum 
Organum.  In  1623  he  published  his  more 
celebrated  Latin  translation  of  this  work, 
if  it  is  not  rather  to  be  deemed  a  new  one, 
entitled  De  Augmentis  Scientiarum.  I 
find,  upon  comparison,  that  more  than  two 
thirds  of  this  treatise  are  a  version,  with 
slight  interpolation  or  omission,  from  the 
Advancement  of  Learning,  the  remainder 
being  new  matter. 

35.  The  Instauratio  Magna  had  been  al- 
ready published  in  1620,  while  Instauratio 
Lord  Bacon  was  still  chancellor.  Magna. 
Fifteen  years  had  elapsed  since  he  gave  to 
the  world  his  Advancement  of  Learning, 
the  first  fruits  of  such  astonishing  vigour 
of  philosophical  genius,  that,  inconceiva- 
ble as  the  completion  of  the  scheme  he 
had  even  then  laid  down  in  prospect  for 
his  new  philosophy  by  any  single  effort 
must  appear,  we  may  be  disappointed  at 
the  deficiencies  which  this  latter  work  ex- 
hibits, and  which  he  was  not  destined  to 
fill  up.     But  he  passed  the  interval  in  ac- 
tive life  and  in  dangerous  paths,  desert- 
ing, as,  in  truth,  he  had  all  along  been 
prone  enough  to  do,  the  "  shady  spaces  of 
philosophy,"  as  Milton  calls  them,  for  the 
court  of  a  sovereign,  who,  with  some  real 
learning,  was  totally  incapable  of  sound- 
ing the  depths  of  Lord  Bacon's  mind,  or 
even  of  estimating  his  genius. 

36.  The  Instauratio   Magna,  dedicated 
to  James,  is  divided,  according  First    n . 
to   the   magnificent  groundplot  Pamtiones' 
of  its    author,  into   six  parts.  Scientiarum. 
The  first  of  these  he  entitles  Partitiones 
Scientiarum,    comprehending   a    general 
summary  of  that  kind  of  knowledge  which 
mankind  already  possess  ;  yet  not  merely 
treating  this  affirmatively,  but  taking  spe- 
cial notice  of  whatever  should  seem  de- 
ficient or  imperfect ;  sometimes  even  sup- 
plying, by  illustration  or  precept,  these 
vacant  spaces  of  science.     This  ffrst  part 
he  declares  to  be  wanting  in  the  Instau- 
ratio.     If.  has   been  chiefly  supplied  by 
the  treatise  De  Augmentis  Scientiarum  ; 
yet  perhaps  even  that  does  not  fully  come 
up  to  the  amplitude  of  his  design. 

36.  The  second  part  of  the  Instauratio 
was  to  be,  as  he  expresses  it,  Secondpart: 
the  science  of  a  better  and  Novum  Or- 
more  perfect,  use  of  reason  in  ganum- 
the  investigation  of  things,  and  of  the  true 
aids  of  the  understanding,"  the  new  logic 
or  inductive  method  in  which  what  is  em- 
inently styled  the  Baconian  philosophy 
consists.  This,  as  far  as  he  completed  it, 
is  Lnown  to  all  by  the  name  of  the  No- 
vum Organum.  But  he  seems  to  have  de- 
signed a  fuller  treatise  in  place  of  this ; 
the  aphorisms  into  which  he  has  digested 


FROM  1600  TO  1650. 


71 


it  being  rather  the  heads  or  theses  of 
chapters,  at  least  in  many  places,  that 
would  have  been  farther  expanded.*  And 
it  is  still  more  important  to  observe,  that 
he  did  not  achieve  the  whole  of  this  sum- 
mary that  he  had  promised ;  but  out  of 
nine  divisions  of  his  method  we  only  pos- 
sess the  first,  which  he  denominates  prae- 
rogitivae  instantiarum.  Eight  others,  of 
exceeding  importance  in  logic,  he  has  not 
touched  at  all,  except  to  describe  them  by 
name  and  to  promise  more.  "We  will 
speak,"  he  says, "  in  the  first  place,  of  pre- 
rogative instances;  secondly,  of  the  aids 
of  induction ;  thirdly,  of  the  rectification 
of  induction  ;  fourthly,  of  varying  the  in- 
vestigation according  to  the  nature  of  the 
subject ;  fifthly,  of  prerogative  natures  (or 
objects)  as  to  investigation,  or  the  choice 
of  what  shall  be  first  inquired  into ;  sixth- 
ly, of  the  boundaries  of  inquiry,  or  the 
synoptical  view  of  all  natures  in  the 
world ;  seventhly,  on  the  application  of 
inquiry  to  practice,  and  what  relates  to 
man  ;  eighthly,  on  the  preparations  (paras- 
cevis)  for  inquiry;  lastly,  on  the  ascend- 
ing and  descending  scale  of  axioms."!  All 
these,  after  the  first,  are  wanting,  with  the 
exception  of  some  slightly  handled  in  sep- 
arate parts  of  Bacon's  writings  ;  and  the 
deficiency,  which  is  so  important,  seems 
to  have  been  sometimes  overlooked  by 
those  who  have  written  about  the  Novum 
Organum. 

38.  The  third  part  of  the  Instauratio 
Third  Part :  Magna  was  to  comprise  an  en- 
Naturaiiiis-  tire  natural  history,  diligently 
torv-  and  scrupulously  collected  from 

experience  of  every  kind  ;  including  un- 
der that  name  of  natural  history  every- 
thing wherein  the  art  of  man  has  been 
employed  on  natural  substances  either  for 
practice  or  experiment ;  no  method  of 
reasoning  being  sufficient  to  guide  us  to 
truth  as  to  natural  things,  if  they  are  not 
themselves  clearly  and  exactly  apprehend- 
ed. It  is  unnecessary  to  observe  that  very 
little  of  this  immense  chart  of  nature  could 
be  traced  by  the  hand  of  Bacon,  or  in  his 
time.  His  Centuries  of  Natural  History, 
containing  about  one  thousand  observed 

*  It  is  entitled  by  himself,  Partis  secundae  Sum- 
ma,  digesta  m  aphorismos. 

t  Dicemus  itaque  prirno  loco  de  prserogativis  in- 
stantiarum ;  secundo,  de  adminiculis  inductionis  ; 
tertio,  de  rectificatione  inductionis;  quarto,  de  va- 
riatione  inquisitionis  pro  natura  subject! ;  quinto,  de 
praerogativis  naturarumquatenus  ad  inquisitionem, 
sive  de  eo  quod  inquirendurn  est  prius  est  posteri- 
us  ;  sexto,  de  tenninisinquisitionis,  sivede  synopsi 
omnium  naturarum  in  universo;  septimo,  de  de- 
ductione  ad  praxin,  sive  de  eoquod  est  in  ordine  ad 
hominem  ;  octavo,  de  parascevis  ad  inquisitionem ; 
postremo  autem,de  scala  ascensoria  et  descensoria 
axiomatum,  lib.  ii.,  22. 


facts  and  experiments,  are  a  very  slender 
contribution  towards  such  a  description 
of  universal  nature  as  he  contemplated : 
these  form  no  part  of  the  Iiiltauratio 
Magna,  and  had  been  compiled  before. 
But  he  enumerates  one  hundred  and  thir- 
ty particular  histories  which  ought  to  be 
drawn  up  for  his  great  work.  A  few  of 
these  he  has  given  in  a  sort  of  skeleton, 
as  samples  rather  of  the  method  of  col- 
lecting facts  than  of  the  facts  themselves ; 
namely,  the  History  of  Winds,  of  Life 
and  Death,  of  Density  and  Rarity,  of  Sound 
and  Hearing. 

39.  The  fourth 'part,  called  Scala  Intel- 
lectus,  is  also  wanting,  with  the  F0urthparf 
exception  of  a  very  few  intro-  scala  intei- 
dtictory  pages.  "  By  these  ta-  Iect0s- 
bles,"  says  Bacon,  "  we  mean  not  such 
examples  as  we  subjoin  to  the  several 
rules  of  our  method,  but  types  and  mod- 
els, which  place  before  our  eyes  the  entire 
process  of  the  mind  in  the  discovery  of 
truth,  selecting  various  and  remarkable  in- 
stances."* These  he  compares  to  the  di- 
agrams of  geometry,  by  attending  to  which 
the  steps  of  the  demonstration  become 
perspicuous.  Though  the  great  brevity 
of  his  language  in  this  place  renders  it 
rather  difficult  to  see  clearly  what  he  un- 
derstood by  these  models,  some  light  ap- 
pears to  be  thrown  on  this  passage  by  one 
in  the  treatise  De  Augmentis,  where  he 
enumerates  among  the  desiderata  of  logic 
what  he  calls  traditio  lampadis,  or  a  deliv- 
ery of  any  science  or  particular  truth  ac- 
cording to  the  order  wherein  it  was  dis- 
covered.! "  The  methods  of  geometers," 


*  Neque  de  iis  exemplis  loquimur,  quae  singulis 
praeceptis  ac  regulis  illustrandi  gratia  adjtciuntur 
hoc  enim  in  secunda  operis  parte  abunde  praEstiti- 
mus,  sed  plane  typos  intelligimus  ac  plasmata,  qua? 
universum  mentis  processum  atque  inveniendi  con- 
tinuatatn  fabricam  et  ordinem  in  certis  subjectis, 
iisque  variis  et  insignibus  tanquam  sub  oculos  po- 
nant.  Etenim  nobis  venit  in  mentem  inmathemat- 
icis,  astante  machina,  sequi  demonstrationem  faci- 
lem  et  perspicuam  ;  contra  absque  hac  commodi- 
tale  omnia  videri  involuta  et  quam  reverasunt  sub- 
tiliora.  ^ 

\  Lib.  vi.,  cap.  2.  Scientia  qua?  aliis  tanquam 
tela  pertexendo  traditur,  eadem  methodo,  si  fieri 
possit,  animo  alterius  est  insinuanda  qua  primitua 
inventa  est.  Atque  hoc  ipsum  fieri  sane  potest  in 
scientia  per  inductionem  acquisita  :  sed  in  antici- 
pata  ista  et  pramatura  scientia,  qua  utimur,  non  fa- 
cile dicat  quis  quo  itinere  adaeam  quarn  nactus  est 
scientiam  p'ervenerit.  Attamen  sane  secundum  ma- 
jus  et  minus  possit  quis  scientiam  propriam  revi- 
sere,  et  vestigia  sus  cognitionis  simul  et  consensus 
remetiri ;  atque  hoc  facto  scientiam  sic  transplari- 

tare  in  animum  alienurn,  sicut  crevit  in  suo 

Cujus  quidem  generis  traditipnis,  methodus  mathe- 
maticorum  in  eo  subjecto  similitudinem  quandam 
habet.  1  do  not  well  understand  the  words  in  eo 
subjecto  ;  he  may  possibly  have  referred  to  analyt 
ical  processes. 


72 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


he  there  says, "  have  some  resemblance  to 
this  art ;"  which  is  not,  however,  the  case 
as  to  the  synthetical  geometry  with  which 
we  arf  generally  conversant.  It  is  the 
history  of  analytical  investigation,  and 
many  beautiful  illustrations  of  it  have 
been  given  since  the  days  of  Bacon  in  all 
subjects' to  which  that  method  of  inquiry 
has  been  applied. 

40.  In  a  fifth  part  of  the  Instauratio 
art-  MaSna  Bacon  had  designed  to 
Anticip"  give  a  specimen  of  the  new  phi- 
tiones  Phi-  losophy  which  he  hoped  to  raise 
losophias.  after  a  due  uge  of  his  naturaj  his- 
tory and  inductive  method,  by  way  of  an- 
ticipation or  sample  of  the  whole.  He 
calls  it  Prodromi,  sive  Anticipationes  Phi- 
losophise Secundse.  And  some  fragments 
of  this  part  are  published  by  the  names 
Cogitata  et  Visa,  Cogitationes  de  Natura 
Rerum,  Filum  Labyrinthi,  and  a  few  more, 
being  as  much,  in  all  probability,  as  he 
had  reduced  to  writing.  In  his  own  met- 
aphor, it  was  to  be  like  the  payment  of  in- 
terest till  the  principal  could  be  raised ; 
tanquam  frenus  reddatur,  donee  sors  ha- 
beri  possit.  For  he  despaired  of  ever 
sixth  part :  completing  the  work  by  a  sixth 
Ptuiosophia  and  last  portion,  which  was  to 
Secunda.  display  a  perfect  system  of  phi- 
losophy, deduced  and  confirmed  by  a  legit- 
imate, sober,  and  exact  inquiry  according 
to  the  method  which  he  had  invented  and 
laid  down.  "  To  perfect,  this  last  part  is 
above  our  powers  and  beyond  our  hopes. 
We  may,  as  we  trust,  make  no  despicable 
beginnings;  the  destinies  of  the  human 
race  must  complete  it;  in  such  a  manner, 
perhaps,  as  men,  looking  only  at  the  pres- 
ent, would  not  readily  conceive.  For  upon 
this  will  depend  not  only  a  speculative 
good,  but  all  the  fortunes  of  mankind,  and 
all  their  power."  And  with  an  eloquent 
prayer  that  his  exertions  may  be  rendered 
effectual  to  the  attainment  of  truth  and 
happiness,  this  introductory  chapter  of  the 
Instauratio,  which  announces  the  distribu- 
tion of  its  portions,  concludes.  Such  was 
the  temple- of  which  Bacon  saw  in  vision 
before  hirnlhe  stately  front  and  decorated 
pediments,  in  all  their  breadth  of  light  and 
harmony  of  proportion,  while  long  vistas 
of  receding  columns  and  glimpses  of  inter- 
nal splendour  revealed  a  glory  that  it  was 
not  permitted  him  to  comprehend.  In  the 
treatise  De  Augmentis  Scientiarum,  and  in 
the  Novum  Organum,  we  have  less,  no 
doubt,  than  Lord  Bacon,  under  different 
conditions  of  life,  might  have  achieved ; 
he  might  have  been  more  emphatically  the 
high-priest  of  nature,  if  he  had  not  been 
the  chancellor  of  James  I. ;  but  no  one 
man  could  have  filled  up  the  vast  outline 


which  he  alone,  in  that  stage  of  the  world, 
could  have  so  boldly  sketched. 

41.  The  best  order  of  studying  the  Ba- 
conian philosophy  would  be  to  course  of 
read  attentively  the  Advance-  studying 
ment  of  Learning ;  next,  to  take  Lord  E 
the  treatise  De  Augmentis,  comparing  it 
all  along  with  the  former,  and  afterward 
to  proceed  to  the  Novum  Organum.  A 
less  degree  of  regard  has  usually  been 
paid  to  the  Centuries  of  Natural  History, 
which  are  the  least  important  of  his  wri- 
tings, or  even  to  the  other  philosophical 
fragments,  some  of  which  contain  very 
excellent  passages ;  yet  such,  in  great 
measure,  as  will  be  found  substantially  in 
other  parts  of  his  works.  The  most  re- 
markable are  the  Cogitata  et  Visa.  It 
must  be  said,  that  one  who  thoroughly 
venerates  Lord  Bacon  will  not  disdain  his 
repetitions,  which  sometimes,  by  varia- 
tions of  phrase,  throw  light  upon  each 
other.  It  is  generally  supposed  that  the 
Latin  works  were  translated  by  several 
assistants,  among  whom  Herbert  and 
Hobbes  have  been  named,  under  the  au- 
thor's superintendence.*  The  Latin  style 
of  these  writings  is  singularly  concise,  en- 
ergetic, and  impressive,  but  frequently 
crabbid,  uncouth,  and  obscure ;  so  that  we 
read  with  more  admiration  of  the  sense 
than  delight  in  the  manner  of  delivering  it. 
But  Rawley,  in  his  Life  of  Bacon,  informs 
us  that  he  had  seen  about  twelve  auto- 
graphs of  the  Novum  Organum,  wrought 
up  and  improved  year  by  year,  till  it 
reached  the  shape  in  which  it  was  publish- 
ed ;  and  he  does  not  intimate  that  these 
were  in  English,  unless  the  praise  he  im- 
mediately afterward  bestows  on  his  Eng- 
lish style  may  be  thought  to  warrant  that 
supposition.!  I  do  not  know  that  we 
have  evidence  as  to  any  of  the  Latin  works 
being  translations  from  English,  except 
the  treatise  De  Augmentis. 


*  The  translation  was  made,  as  Archbishop  Ten- 
ison  informs  us,  "  by  Mr.  Herbert  and  some  others, 
who  were  esteemed  masters  in  the  Roman  elo- 
quence." 

t  Ipse  reperi  in  archivis  dominationis  suse,  auto- 
grapha  plus  minus  duodecim  Organi  Novi  de  anno 
in  annum  elaborati,  et  ad  incudem  revocati,  et  sin- 
gulis  annis,  ulteriore  lima  subinde  politi  et  castigati, 
donee  in  illud  tandem  corpus  adoleverat,  quo  in  lu- 
cem  editum  fuit ;  sicut  multa  ex  animaiibus  fetus 
lambere  consuescunt  usque  quo  ad  membrorum  fir- 
mitudinem  eos  perducant.  In  libris  suis  compo- 
nendis  verborum  vigorem  et  perspicuitatem  prseci- 
pue  sectabatur,  non  elegantiam  aut  concinnitatem 
sermonis,  et  inter  scribendum  aut  dictandum  saepe 
interrogavit,  num  sensus  ejus  clare  admodum  et 
perspicueredditusesset?  Quippe  qui  sciret  aBquurn 
esse  nt  verba  famularentur  rebus,  non  res  verbis. 
Et  si  in  stylum  forsitan  politiorem  incidisset,  siqui- 
dem  apud  nostrates  eloquii  Anglicani  artifex  habi- 
tus est,  id  evenil,  quia  evitare  arduum  ei  erat. 


FROM  1600  TO  1650. 


73 


42.  The  leading  principles  of  the  Baco- 
nian philosophy  are  contained  in  the  Ad- 
vancement of  Learning.  These  are  am- 
plified, corrected,  illustrated,  and  devel- 
oped in  the  treatise  De  Augmentis  Sci- 
entiarum,  from  the  fifth  book  of  which, 
with  some  help  from  other  parts,  is  taken 
the  first  book  of  the  Novum  Organum, 
and  even  a  part  of  the  second.  I  use  this 
phrase,  because,  though  earlier  in  publi- 
cation, I  conceive  that  the  Novum  Orga- 
num was  later  in  composition.  All  that 
very  important  part  of  this  fifth  book  which 
relates  to  Experientia  Litterata,  or  Venatio 
Panis,  as  he  calls  it,  and  contains  excel- 
lent rules  for  conducting  experiments  in 
natural  philosophy,  is  new,  and  does  not 
appear  in  the  Advancement  of  Learning, 
except  by  way  of  promise  of  what  should 
be  done  in  it.  Nor  is  this,  at  least  so 
fully  and  clearly,  to  be  found  in  the  Novum 
Organum.  The  second  book  of  this  latter 
treatise  he  professes  not  to  anticipate. 
De  Novo  Organo  silemus,  he  says,  neque 
de  eo  quicquam  prrelibamus.  This  can 
only  apply  to  the  second  book,  which  he 
considered  as  the  real  exposition  of  his 
method,  after  clearing  away  the  fallacies 
which  form  the  chief  subject  of  the  first. 
Yet  what  is  said  of  Topica  particularis, 
in  this  fifth  book  De  Augmentis  (illustrated 
by  "  articles  of  inquiry  concerning  gravity 
and  levity"),  goes  entirely  on  the  princi- 
ples of  the  second  book  of  the  Novum 
Organum. 
43.  Let  us  now  see  what  Bacon's  method 

Nature  of  the  reallY  was-     He  has  given  il  the 

Baconian  in-  name  of  induction,  but  carefully 
ducuon.  distinguishes  it  from  what  bore 
that  name  in  the  old  logic,  that  is,  an  in- 
ference from  a  perfect  enumeration  of 
particulars  to  a  general  law  of  the  whole. 
For  such  an  enumeration,  though  of  course 
conclusive,  is  rarely  practicable  in  nature, 
where  the  particulars  exceed  our  powers 
of  numbering.*  Nor,  again,  is  the  Baconian 


*  Induclio  quae  procedit  per  enumerationen  sim- 
plicem,  res  puerilis  est,  et  precario  concludit,  et 
periculo  exponitur  ab  instantia  contradictoria,  et 
plerumque  secundum  pauciora  quam  par  est,  et  ex 
liis  tantummodo  qua  praesto  sunt,  pronuntiat.  At 
inductio  quae  ad  mventionem  et  demonstrationem 
scientiarum  et  artiuin  erit  utilis,  naturam  separare 
debet,  per  rejectiones  et  exclusiones  debitas ;  ac 
deinde  post  negativas  tot  quot  sufficiunt,  super  af- 
firmativas  concludere  ;  quod  adhucfactum  non  est, 
nee  tentatum  certe,  nisi  tantummodo  a  Platone, 
qui  ad  excutiendas  definitiones  et  ideas,  hac  certe 
forma  inductionis  aliquatenus  utitur. — Nov.  Org.,  i., 
105.  In  this  passage  Bacon  seems  to  imply  that 
the  enumeration  of  particulars  in  any  induction  is 
or  may  be  imperfect.  This  is  certainly  the  case  in 
the  plurality  of  physical  inductions ;  but  it  does 
not  appear  that  the  logical  writers  looked  upon  this 
as  the  primary  and  legitimate  sense.  Induction 
was  distinguished  into  the  complete  and  incom- 

VOL.  II.— K 


method  to  be  confounded  with  the  less 
complete  form  of  the  inductive  process, 
namely,  inferences  from  partial  experience 
in  similar  circumstances ;  though  this  may 
be  a  very  sufficient  ground  for  practical, 
which  is,  probable  knowledge.  His  own 


plete.  "The  word,"  says  a  very  modern  writer, 
"  is  perhaps  unhappy,  as  indeed  it  is  taken  in  sev- 
eral vague  senses ;  but  to  abolish  it  is  impossible. 
It  is  the  Latin  translation  of  tmzyuiyij,  which  word 
is  used  by  Aristotle  as  a  counterpart  lo  a\i\\oyiajios. 
He  seems  to  consider  it  in  a  perfect  or  dialectic,  and 
in  an  imperfect  or  rhetorical  sense.  Thus,  if  a  genus 
(G.)  contained  four  species  (A.  13.  C.  D.),  syllogism 
would  argue,  that  what  is  true  of  G.  is  true  of  any 
one  of  the  four ;  but  perfect  induction  would  reason, 
that  what  we  can  prove  true  of  A.  B.  C.  D.  separ- 
ately, we  may  properly  state  as  true  of  G.,  the 
whole  genus.  This  is  evidently  a  formal  argument, 
as  demonstrative  as  syllogism.  But  the  imperfect 
or  rhetorical  induction  will  perhaps  enumerate 
three  only  of  the  species,  and  then  draw  the  con- 
clusion concerning  G.,  which  virtually  includes  the 
fourth  ;  or,  what  is  the  same  thing,  will  argue,  that 
what  is  true  of  the  three  is  to  be  believed  true  like- 
wise of  the  fourth." — Newman's  Lectures  on  Logic, 
p.  73  (1837).  The  same  distinction  between  per- 
fect and  imperfect  induction  is  made  in  the  Ency- 
clopedic Francoise,  art.  Induction,  and  apparently 
on  the  authority  of  the  ancients. 

It  may  be  observed,  that  this  imperfect  induction 
may  be  put  in  a  regular  logical  form,  and  is  only 
vicious  in  syllogistic  reasoning  when  the  conclusion 
asserts  a  higher  probability  than  the  premises.  If, 
for  example,  we  reason  thus :  Some  serpents  are 
venomous.— This  unknown  animal  is  a  serpent — 
Therefore  this  is  venomous ;  we  are  guilty  of  an 
obvious  paralogism.  If  we  infer  only,  This  may  be 
venomous,  our  reasoning  is  perfectly  valid  in  itself, 
it  least  in  the  common  apprehension  of  all  man- 
kind, except  dialecticians,  but  not  regular  in  form. 
The  only  means  that  I  perceive  of  making  it  so,  is 
to  put  it  in  some  such  phrase  as  the  following .  All 
jnknown  serpents  are  affected  by  a  certain  proba- 
bility of  being  venomous :  This  animal,  &c.  It  is 
lot  necessary,  of  course,  that  the  probability  should 
}e  capable  of  being  estimated,  provided  we  men- 
;ally  conceive  it  to  be  no  other  in  the  conclusion 
;han  in  the  major  term.  In  the  best  treatises  on 
the  strict  or  syllogistic  method,  as  far  as  I  have 
seen,  there  seems  a  deficiency  in  respect  to  probable 
conclusions,  which  may  have  arisen  from  the  prac- 
tice of  taking  instances  from  universal  or  necessary, 
rather  than  contingent  truths,  as  well  as  from  the 
contracted  views  of  reasoning  which  the  Aristote- 
ian  school  have  always  inculcated.  No  sophisms 
are  so  frequent  in  practice  as  the  concluding  gen- 
erally from  a  partial  induction,  or  assuming  (most 
commonly  tacitly)  by  what  Archbishop  Whateley 
calls  "  a  kind  of  logical  fiction,"  that  a  few  individu- 
als are  "  adequate  samples  or  representations  of  the 
class  they  belong  to."  These  sophisms  cannot,  in 
the  present  state  of  things,  be  practised  largely  in 
physical  science  or  natural  history;  but  in  reason- 
ng  on  matter  of  fact  they  are  of  incessant  occur- 
•ence.  The  "  logical  fiction"  may  indeed  frequent- 
y  be  employed,  even  on  subjects  unconnected 
with  the  physical  laws  of  nature;  but  to  know 
when  this  may  be,  and  to  what  extent,  is  just  that 
which,  far  more  than  any  other  skill,  distinguishes 
what  is  called  a  good  reasoner  from  a  bad  one. 
This  note  will  not,  by  an  cttentive  reader,  be 
:hought  inapposite  to  the  text,  or  to  some  passages 
that  will  follow  in  the  present  chapter. 


74 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


method  rests  on  the  same  general  princi- 
ple, namely,  the  uniformity  of  the  laws  of 
nature,  so  that  in  certain  conditions  of 
phenomena  the  same  effects  or  the  same 
causes  maybe  assumed ;  but  it  endeavour^ 
to  establish  these  laws  on  a  more  exact 
and  finer  process  of  reasoning  than  partial 
experience  can  effect.  For  the  recurrence 
of  antecedents  and  consequents  does  not 
prove  a  necessary  connexion  '  between 
them,  unless  we  can  exclude  the  presence 
of  all  other  conditions  which  may  deter- 
mine the  event.  Long  and  continued  ex- 
perience of  such  a  recurrence,  indeed, 
raises  a  high  probability  of  a  necessary 
connexion ;  but  the  aim  of  Bacon  was  to 
supersede  experience  in  this  sense,  and  to 
find  a  shorter  road  to  the  result ;  and  for 
this  his  methods  of  exclusion  are  devised. 
As  complete  and  accurate  a  collection  of 
facts  connected  with  the  subject  of  in- 
quiry as  possible,  is  to  be  made  out  by 
means  of  that  copious  natural  history 
which  he  contemplated,  or  from  any  other 
good  sources.  These  are  to  be  selected, 
compared,  and  scrutinized,  according  to 
the  rules  of  natural  interpretation  deliv- 
ered in  the  second  book  of  the  Novum 
Organum,  or  such  others  as  he  designed 
to  add  to  them ;  and  if  experiments  are 
admissible,  these  are  to  be  conducted  ac- 
cording to  the  same  rules.  Experience 
and  observation  are  the  guides  through  the' 
Baconian  philosophy,  which  is  the  hand- 
maid and  interpreter  of  nature.  When 
Lord  Bacon  seems  to  decry  experience, 
which  in  certain  passages  he  might  be 
thought  to  do,  it  is  the  particular  and  em- 
pirical observation  of  individuals,  from 
which  many  rash  generalizations  had  been 
drawn,  as  opposed  to  that  founded  on  an 
accurate  natural  history.  Such  hasty  in- 
ferences he  reckoned  still  more  pernicious 
to  true  knowledge  than  the  sophistical 
methods  of  the  current  philosophy ;  and 
in  a  remarkable  passage,  after  censuring 
this  precipitancy  of  empirical  conclusions 
in  the  chymists,  and  in  Gilbert's  Treatise 
on  the  Magnet,  utters  a  prediction  that,  if 
ever  mankind,  excited  by  his  counsels, 
should  seriously  betake  themselves  to 
seek  the  guidance  of  experience  instead 
of  relying  on  the  dogmatic  schools  of  the 
sophists,  the  proneness  of  the  human 
mind  to  snatch  at  general  axioms  would 
expose  them  to  much  risk  of  error  from 
the  theories  of  this  superficial  class  of 
philosophers.* 

44.  The  indignation,  however,  of  Lord 
Bacon  is  more  frequently  directed  against 


*  Nov.  Organ.,  lib.  i.,  64.    It  may  be  doubted 
whether  Bacon  did  full  justice  to  Gilbert. 


the  predominant  philosophy  of  His 
his  age,  that  of  Aristotle  and  of  Arisiotie. 
the  schoolmen.  Though  he  does  justice 
to  the  great  abilities  of  the  former,  and 
acknowledges  the  exact  attention  to  facts 
displayed  in  his  History  of  Animals,  he 
deems  him  one  of  the  most  eminent  ad- 
versaries to  the  only  method  that  can 
guide  us  to  the  real  laws  of  nature.  The 
old  Greek  philosophers,  Empedocles,  Leu- 
cippus,  Anaxagoras,  and  others  of  their 
age  who  had  been  in  the  right  track  of  in- 
vestigation, stood  much  higher  in  his  es- 
teem than  their  successors,  Plato,  Zeno, 
Aristotle,  by  whose  lustre  they  had  been 
so  much  superseded,  that  both  their  works 
have  perished,  and  their  tenets  are  with 
difficulty  collected.  These  more  distin- 
guished leaders  of  the  Grecian  schools 
were,  in  his  eyes,  little  else  than  disputa- 
tious professors  (it  must  be  remembered 
that  Bacon  had,  in  general,  only  physical 
science  in  his  view),  who  seemed  to  have 
it  in  common  with  children,  "  ut  ad  garri- 
endurn  prompti  sint,  generare  non  pos- 
sint ;"  so  wordy  and  barren  was  their  mi«- 
called  wisdom. 

45.  Those  who  object  to  the  importance 
of  Lord  Bacon's  precepts  in  phi-  njsmeth- 
losophy  that  mankind  have  prac-  od  much 
tised  many  of  them  immemori-  reiuired- 
ally,  are  rather  confirming  their  utility 
than  taking  off  much  from  their  originali- 
ty in  any  fair  sense  of  that  term.  Every 
logical  method  is  built  on  the  common 
faculties  of  human  nature,  which  have 
been  exercised  since  the  creation  in  dis- 
cerning, better  or  worse,  truth  from  false- 
hood, and  inferring  the  unknown  from  the 
known.  That  men  might  have  done  this 
more  correctly,  is  manifest  from  the  quan- 
tity of  error  into  which,  from  want  of  rea- 
soning well  on  what  came  before  them, 
they  have  habitually  fallen.  In  experi- 
mental philosophy,  to  which  the  more 
special  rules  of  Lord  Bacon  are  generally 
referred,  there  was  a  notorious  want  of 
that  very  process  of  reasoning  which  he 
has  supplied.  It  is  probable,  indeed,  that 
the  great  physical  philosophers  of  the  sev- 
enteenth century  would  have  been  led  to 
employ  some  of  his  rules  had  he  never 
promulgated  them  ;  but  I  believe  they  had 
been  little  regarded  in  the  earlier  period 
of  science.*  It  is  also  a  very  defective 
view  of  the  Baconian  method  to  look  only 
at  the  experimental  rules  given  in  the  No- 
vum Organum.  The  preparatory  steps  of 


*  It  has  been  remarked,  that  the  famous  experi 
ment  of  Pascal  on  the  barometer,  by  carrying  it  to  a 
considerable  elevation,  was  "  a  crucial  instance  ;  one 
of  the  first,  if  not  the  very  first,  on  record  in  phys- 
ics."—Herschel,  p.  229. 


FROM  1600  TO  1650. 


75 


completely  exhausting  the  natural  history 
of  the  subject  of  inquiry  by  a  patient  and 
sagacious  consideration  of  it  in  every  light. 
are  at  least  of  equal  importance,  and  equal- 
ly prominent  in  the  inductive  philosophy. 
46.  The  first  object  of  Lord  Bacon's 
philosophical  writings  is  to  prove 
'  °  Jects'  their  own  necessity,  by  giving  an 
unfavourable  impression  as  to  the  actual 
state  of  most  sciences,  in  consequence  of 
the  prejudices  of  the  human  mind,  and  of 
the  mistaken  methods  pursued  in  their 
cultivation.  The  second  was  to  point  out 
a  better  prospect  for  the  future.  One  of 
these  occupies  the  treatise  De  Augmentis, 
and  the  first  book  of  the  Novum  Organum. 
The  other,  besides  many  anticipations  in 
these,  is  partially  detailed  in  the  second 
book,  and  would  have  been  more  thor- 
oughly developed  in  those  remaining  por- 
tions which  the  author  did  not  complete. 
We  shall  now  give  a  very  short  sketch  of 
these  two  famous  works,  which  comprise 
the  greater  part  of  the  Baconian  philoso- 
phy. 

47.  The  Advancement  of  Learning  is 
Sketch  of  the  divided   into  two  books   only; 
treatise  De     the  treatise  De  Augmentis  into 

Augmentis.     njne        The  fir§t  Qf  theS6)  jn  tne 

latter,  is  introductory,  and  designed  to  re- 
move prejudices  against  the  search  for 
truth  by  indicating  the  causes  which  had 
hitherto  obstructed  it.  In  the  second 
book,  he  lays  down  his  celebrated 
ory'  partition  of  human  learning  into 
history,  poetry,  and  philosophy,  according 
to  the  faculties  of  the  mind  respectively 
concerned  in  them,  the  memory,  imagina- 
tion, and  reason.  History  is  natural  or 
civil,  under  the  latter  of  which  ecclesias- 
•  tical  and  literary  histories  are  comprised. 
These,  again,  fall  into  regular  subdivisions ; 
all  of  which  he  treats  in  a  summary  man- 
ner, and  points  out  the  deficiencies  which 
ought  to  be  supplied  in  many  departments 
of  history.  Poetry  succeeds  in  the 
:try'  last  chapter  of  the  same  book ;  but 
by  confining  that  name  to  fictitious  narra- 
tive, except  as  to  the  ornaments  of  style, 
which  he  refers  to  a  different  part  of  his 
subject,  he  much  limited  his  views  of  that 
literature ;  even  if  it  were  true,  as  it  cer- 
tainly is  not,  that  the  imagination  alone, 
in  any  ordinary  use  of  the  word,  is  the 
medium  of  poetical  emotion.  The  word 
emotion,  indeed,  is  sufficient  to  show  that 
Bacon  should  either  have  excluded  poe- 
try altogether  from  his  enumeration  of 
sciences  and  learning,  or  taken  into  con- 
sideration other  faculties  of  the  soul  than 
those  which  are  merely  intellectual. 

48.  Stewart  has  praised  with  justice  a 
short  but  beautiful  paragraph  concerning 


poetry  (under  which  title  maybe  Fine  passage 
comprehended  all  the  various  °n  poetry. B 
creations  of  the  faculty  of  imagination), 
wherein  Bacon  ."  has  exhausted  every- 
thing that  philosophy  and  good  sense  have 
yet  had  to  offer  on  the  subject  of  what  has 
since  been  called  the  beau  ideal."  The 
same  eminent  writer  and  ardent  admirer 
of  Bacon  observes  that  D'Alembert  im- 
proved on  the  Baconian  arrangement  by 
classing  the  fine  arts  with  poetry.  Injus- 
tice had  been  done  to  painting  and  music, 
especially  the  former,  when,  in  the  fourth 
book  De  Augmentis,  they  were  counted 
as  mere  "  artes  voluptariae,"  subordinate 
to  a  sort  of  Epicurean  gratification  of  the 
senses,  and  only  somewhat  more  liberal 
than  cookery  or  cosmetics. 

49.  In  the  third  book,  science  having 
been  divided  into  theological  and  Naturai 
philosophical,  and  the  former,  or  Theology 
what  regards  revealed  religion,  *n|J  ^!et" 
being  postponed  for  the  present,  ai 
he  lays  it  down  that  all  philosophy  relates 
to  God,  to  nature,  or  to  man.  Under  nat- 
ural theology,  as  a  sort  of  appendix,  he 
reckons  the  doctrine  of  angels  and  super- 
human spirits ;  a  more  favourite  theme, 
especially  as  treated  independently  of  rev- 
elation, in  the  ages  that  preceded  Lord 
Bacon,  than  it  has  been  since.  Natural 
philosophy  is  speculative  or  practical ;  the 
former  divided  into  physics,  in  a  particu- 
lar sense,  and  metaphysics  ;  "  one  of  which 
inquireth  and  handleth  the  material  and 
efficient  causes ;  the  other  handleth  the 
formal  and  final  causes."  Hence  physics 
dealing  with  particular  instances,  and  re- 
garding only  the  effects  produced,  is  pre- 
carious in  its  conclusions,  and  does  not 
reach  the  stable  principles  of  causation. 

Limus  ut  hie  durescit,  et  haec  nt  cera  liquescit 
Uno  eodemque  igni. 

Metaphysics,  to  which  word  he  gave  a 
sense  as  remote  from  that  which  it  bore 
in  the  Aristotelian  schools  as  from  that  in 
which  it  is  commonly  employed  at  pres- 
ent, had  for  its  proper  object  the  investi- 
gation of  forms.  It  was  "  a  generally  re- 
ceived and  inveterate  opinion,  that  the  in- 
quisition of  man  is  not  competent  to  find 
out  essential  forms  or  true  differences." 
Formae  inventio,  he  says  in  another  place, 
habetur  pro  desperata.  The  word  form 
itself,  being  borrowed  from  the  old  philos- 
ophy, is  not  immediately  intelligible  to 
every  reader.  "  In  the  Baconian  sense," 
says  Playfair,  "  form  differs  only  Form  of 
from  cause  in  being  permanent,  bodies 
whereas  we  apply  cause  to  that  which  ex- 
ists in  order  of  time."  Form  (natura  na- 
turans,  as  it  was  barbarously  called)  is  the 


76 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


general  law  or  condition  of  existence  in 
any  substance  or  quality  (natura  naturata) 
which  is  wherever  its  form  is.*  The  con- 
ditions of  a  mathematical  figure,  prescri- 
bed in  its  definition,  might  in  this  sense  be 
called  its  form,  if  it  did  not  seem  to  be 
Lord  Bacon's  intention  to  confine  the 
word  to  the  laws  of  particular  sensible  ex- 
istences. In  modern  philosophy,  it  might 
be  defined  to  be  that  particular  combina- 
tion of  forces  which  impresses  a  certain 
modification  upon  matter  subjected  to 
their  influence. 

50.  To  a  knowledge  of  such  forms,  or 
might  some-  laws  of  essence  and  existence, 
times  be  in-  at  least  in  a  certain  degree,  it 

quired  into.    mjght    be    possible?    jn   Bacon's 

sanguine  estimation  of  his  own  logic,  for 
man  to  attain.  Not  that  we  could  hope  to 
understand  the  forms  of  complex  beings, 
which  are  almost  infinite  in  variety,  but 
the  simple  and  primary  natures,  which  are 
combined  in  them.  "  To  inquire  the  form 
of  a  lion,  of  an  oak,  of  gold,  nay.  of  water, 
of  air,  is  a  vain  pursuit ;  but  to  inquire  the 
forms  of  sense,  of  voluntary  motion,  of 
vegetation,  of  colours,  of  gravity  and  lev- 
ity, of  density  and  tenuity,  of  heat,  of  cold, 
and  all  other  natures  and  qualities,  which, 
like  an  alphabet,  are  not  many,  and  of 
which  the  essences,  upheld  by  matter,  of 
all  creatures  do  consist ;  to  inquire,  I  say, 
the  true  forms  of  these,  is  that  part  of  me't- 
aphysic  which  we  now  define  of."f  Thus, 
in  the  words  he  soon  afterward  uses,  "  of 
natural  philosophy,*  the  basis  is  natural 
history ;  the  stage  next  the  basis  is  phys- 
ic ;  the  stage  next  the  vertical  point  is 
metaphysic.  As  for  the  vertical  point, 
'  Opus  quod  operatur  Deus  a  principio  us- 
que ad  finem,'  the  summary  law  of  nature, 
we  know  not  whether  man's  inquiry  can 
attain  unto  it."J 

51.  The  second  object  of  metaphysics, 
Final  causes  according  to  Lord  Bacon's  no- 

^on  °^ tne  word' was  tne  inves- 
tigation  of  final  causes.     It  is 


*  Licet  enim  in  natura  nihil  vere  existat  prater 
corpora  individua,  edentia  actus  puros  individuos 
ex  iege,  in  doc.'inis  tamen  ilia  ipsa  lex,  ejusqne  in- 
quisitio,  et  inven'io  atque  explicatio  pro  fundamen- 
to  est  tam  ad  sciendum  quam  operandum.  Earn 
autem  legem  ejusque  paragraphos,  Formfirum  nom- 
ine intelligimus ;  praesertim  cum  hoc  vocabulum 
invaluerit  et  familiariter  occurrat. — Nov  Org.,ii.,2. 

t  In  the  Novum  Organum  he  seems  to 'have 
gone  a  little  beyond  this,  and  to  have  hoped  that 
the  form  itself  of  concrete  things  might  be  known. 
Datae  autem  natura  formam,  sive  differentiam  ve- 
ram,  sive  naturam  naturantern,  sive  fontem  emana- 
tionis  (ista  enim  vocabula  habemus,  quae  ad  indica- 
tionem  rei  proxime  accedunt),  invenire  opus  et  in- 
tentio  est  Human*  Scientioe. — Lib.  ii.,  1. 

t  Advancement  of  Leafcing,  book  ii.  This  sen- 
tence he  has  scarcely  altered  in  the  Latin. 


well  known  that  he  has  spoken  of  this  with 
unguarded  disparagement.*  "  Like  a  vir- 
gin consecrated  to  God,  it  bears  nothing ;" 
one  of  those  witty  conceits  that  sparkle 
over  his  writings,  but  will  not  bear  a  se- 
vere examination.  It  has  been  well  re- 
marked, that  almost  at  the  moment  he  pub- 
lished this,  one  of  the  most  important  dis- 
coferies  of  his  age,  the  circulation  of  the 
blood,  had  rewarded  the  acuteness  of  Har- 
vey in  reasoning  on  the  final  cause  of  the 
valves  in  the  veins. 

52.  'Nature,  or  physical  philosophy,  ac- 
cording to  Lord  Bacon's  parti-  Man  not  jn. 
tion,  did  not  comprehend   the  eluded  by 
human  species.     Whether  this  £«' »>  pny* 
be  not  more  consonant  to  pop- 
ular language,  adopted  by  preceding  sys- 
tems of  philosophy,  than  to  a  strict  and 
perspicuous  arrangement,  may  by  some  be 
doubted  ;  though  a  very  respectable  au- 
thority, that  of  Dugald  Stewart,  is  opposed 
to  including  man  in  the  province  of  phys- 
ics.    For  it  is  surely  strange  to  separate 
the  physiology  of  the  human  body,  as  quite 
a  science  of  another  class,  from  that  of  in- 
ferior animals ;  and  if  we  place  this  part 
of  our  being  under  the  department  of  phys- 
ical philosohpy,  we  shall  soon  be  embar- 
rassed  by  what  Bacon   has    called   the 
"doctrina  de  foedere,"  the  science  of  the 
connexion  between  the  soul  of  man  and 
his  bodily  frame ;  a  vast  and  interesting 
field,  even  yet  very  imperfectly  explored. 

53.  It  has  pleased,  however,  the  author 
to  follow  his  own  arrangement.  Man  in  body 
The  fourth  book  relates  to  the  and  mind, 
constitution,  bodily  and  mental,  of  man- 
kind.    In  this  book  he  has  introduced  sev- 
eral subdivisions,  which,  considered  mere- 

y  as  such,  do  not  always  appear  the  most 
Dhilosophical ;  but  the  pregnancy  and 
icuteness  of  his  observations  under  each 
lead  silences  all  criticism  of  this  kind. 
This  book  has  nearly  double  the  extent  of 
the  corresponding  pages  in  the  Advance- 
ment of  Learning.  The  doctrine  as  to  the 
substance  of  the  thinking  principle  having 
aeen  very  slightly  touched,  or,  rather, 
mssed  over,  with  two  curious  disquisitions 
on  divination  and  fascination,  he  advances, 
n  four  ensuing  books,  to  the  intellectual 
and  moral  faculties,  and  those  sciences 
which  immediately  depend  upon  them. 


*  Causa  finalis  tantum  abest  ut  prosit,  ut  etiam 
scientias  corrumpat.  nisi  in  hominis  actionibus. — 
^ov.  Org.,  ii.,  2.  It  must  be  remembered  that  Ba- 
:on  had  good  reason  to  deprecate  the  admixture  of 
heological  dogmas  with  philosophy,  which  had 
>een,  and  has  often  since  been,  the  absolute  perver- 
sion of  all  legitimate  reasoning  in  science. — See 
what  Stewart  has  said  upon  Lord  Bacon's  objection 
to  reasoning  from  final  causes  in  physics.  Philoso- 
>hy  of  the  Active  and  Moral  Powers,  bk.  iii.,  c.  2.  s.  4. 


FROM  1600  TO  1650. 


77 


Logic  and  Ethics  are  the  grand  di- 
^°'  visions,  correlative  to  the  reason  and 
the  will  of  man.  Logic,  according  to  Lord 
Bacon,  comprises  the  sciences  of  invent- 
ing, judging,  retaining,  and  delivering  the 
conceptions  of  the  mind.  We  invent,  that 
is,  discover  new  arts  or  new  arguments  ; 
we  judge  by  induction  or  by  syllogism ; 
the  memory  is  capable  of  being  aided  by 
artificial  methods.  All  these  processes  of 
the  mind  are  the  subjects  of  several  sci- 
ences, which  it  was  the  peculiar  aim  of 
Bacon,  by  his  own  logic,  to  place  on  solid 
foundations. 

54.  It  is  here  to  be  remarked,  that  the 
extent  given  sciences  of  logic  and  ethics,  ac- 
it  by  Bacon,  cording  to  the  partitions  of  Lord 
Bacon,  are  far  more  extensive  than  we  are 
accustomed  to  consider  them.     Whatever 
concerned  the  human  intellect  came  under 
the  first ;  whatever  related  to  the  will  and 
affections  of  the  mind  fell  under  the  head 
of  ethics.     Logicade  intellectu  et  ratione, 
ethica  de  voluntate  appetitu  et  affectibus 
disserit ;    altera  decreta,   altera  actiories 
progignit.     But  it  has  been  usual  to  con- 
fine logic  to  the  methods  of  guiding  the 
understanding  in  the  search  for  truth  ;  and 
some,  though,  as  it  seems  to  me,  in  a  man- 
ner not  warranted  by  the  best  usage  of 
philosophers,*  have  endeavoured  to  ex- 
clude everything  but  the  syllogistic  mode 
of  reasoning  from  the  logical  province. 
Whether,  again,  the  nature  and  operations 
of  the  human  mind  in  general  ought  to  be 
reckoned  a  part  of  physics,  has  already 
been  mentioned  as  a  disputable  question. 

55.  The  science  of  delivering  our  own 
Grammar  and  thoughts  to   others,  branching 
Rhetoric.        mto  grammar  and  rhetoric,  and 
including  poetry,  so  far  as  its  proper  ve- 
hicles, metre  and  diction,  are  concerned, 
occupies  the  sixth  book.     In  all  this  he 
finds  more  desiderata  than,  from  the  great 
attention  paid  to  these  subjects  by  the  an- 
cients, could  have  been  expected.     Thus 
his  ingenious  collection  of  antitheta,  or 
commonplaces  in  rhetoric,  though  men- 
tioned by  Cicero  as  to  the  judicial  species 
of  eloquence,  is  first  extended  by  Bacon 
himself  to  deliberative  or  political  ora- 
tions.    I  do  not,  however,  think  it  prob- 
able that  this  branch  of  topics  could  have 
been  neglected  by  antiquity,  though  the 
writings  relating  to  it  may  not  have  de- 
scended to  us  ;  nor  can  we  by  any  means 
say  there  is  nothing  of  the  kind  in  Aris- 
totle's Rhetoric.     Whether  the  utility  of 
these  commonplaces,  when  collected  in 
books,  be  very  great,  is  another  question. 


*  In  altera  philosophise  parte,  quae  est  miaerendi  ac 
disserendi,  quae  \oymri  dicitur.— Cic.,  de  Fin.,  i,,  14. 


And  a  similar  doubt  might  be  suggested 
with  respect  to  the  elenchs,  or  refuta- 
tions, of  rhetorical  sophisms,  "  colores 
boni  et  mali,"  which  he  reports  as  equally 
deficient,  though  a  commencement  had 
been  made  by  Aristotle. 

56.  In  the  seventh  book  we  come  to 
ethical  science.  This  he  deems  to  E(hics 
have  been  insufficiently  treated. 
He  would  have  the  different  tempers  and 
characters  of  mankind  first  considered; 
then  their  passions  and  affections  (neither 
of  which,  as  he  justly  observes,  find  a 
place  in  the  Ethics  of  Aristotle,  though 
they  are  sometimes  treated,  not  so  appo- 
sitely, in  his  Rhetoric) ;  lastly,  the  methods 
of  altering  and  affecting  the  will  and  ap- 
petite, such  as  custom,  education,  imita- 
tion, or  society.  "  The  main  and  primi- 
tive division  of  moral  knowledge  seemeth 
to  be  into  the  exemplar  or  platform  of 
good,  and  the  regiment  or  culture  of  the 
mind ;  the  one  describing  the  nature  of 
good,  the  other  presenting  rules  how  to 
subdue,  apply,  and  accommodate  the  will 
of  man  thereunto."  This  latter  he  also 
calls  "  the  Georgics  of  the  mind."  He 
seems  to  place  "  the  platform  or  essence 
of  good"  in  seeking  the  good  of  the  whole 
rather  than  that  of  the  individual,  applying 
his  to  refute  the  ancient  theories  as  to 
the  summum  bonum.  But  perhaps  Ba- 
con had  not  thoroughly  disentangled  this 
question,  and  confounds,  as  is  not  unusual, 
the  summum  bonum,  or  personal  felicity, 
with  the  object  of  moral  action,  or  com- 
mune bonum.  He  is  right,  however,  in  pre- 
ferring, morally  speaking,  the  active  to 
the  contemplative  life  against  Aristotle 
and  other  philosophers.  This  part  is 
translated  in  De  Augmentis  with  little 
variation  from  the  Advancement  of  Learn- 
ing ;  as  is  also  what  follows  on  the  Geor- 
gics, orculturc,  of  the  mind.  The  philoso- 
phy of  civil  life,  as  it  relates  both  to  the 
conduct  of  men  in  their  mutual  intercourse, 
which  is  properly  termed  prudence,  and 
to  that  higher  prudence,  which  is  concern- 
ed with  the  administration  of  communi- 
ties, fills  up  the  chart  of  the  Baconian 
ethics.  In  the  eighth  book,  admirable  re- 
flections on  the  former  of  these  subjects 
occur  at  almost  every  sentence.  Many, 
perhaps  most  of  these,  will  be  found  in  the 
Advancement  of  Learning.  But  in  this 
he  had  been,  for  a  reason  sufficiently  ob- 
vious and  almost  avowed,  cautiously  si- 
lent upon  the  art  of  government,  the  craft 
of  his  king.  The  motives  for  si- 
lence  were  still  so  powerful,  that  he 
treats  only  in  the  De  Augmentis  of  two 
heads  in  political  science  ;  the  methods 
of  enlarging  the  boundaries  of  a  state, 


78 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


which  James  I.  could  hardly  resent  as  an 
interference  with  his  own  monopoly,  and 
one  of  far  more  importance  to  the  well- 
being  of  mankind,  the  principles  of  univer- 
sal jurisprudence,  or,  rather,  of  universal 
legislation,  according  to  which  standard 
all  laws  ought  to  be  framed.  These  he 
has  sketched  in  ninety-seven  aphorisms 
or  short  rules,  which,  from  the  great  expe- 
rience of  Bacon  in  the  laws,  as  well  as  his 
peculiar  vocation  towards  that  part  of 
philosophy,  deserve  to  be  studied  at  this 
day.  Upon  such  topics,  the  progressive 
and  innovating  spirit  of  his  genius  was  less 
likely  to  be  perceived  ;  but  he  is,  perhaps, 
equally  free  from  what  he  has  happily 
called  in  one  of  his  essays,  the  "  froward 
retention  of  custom,"  the  prejudice  of  man- 
kind, like  that  of  perverse  children,  against 
what  is  advised  to  them  for  their  real 
good,  and  what  they  cannot  deny  to  be 
conducive  to  it.  This  whole  eighth  book 
is  pregnant  with  profound  and  original 
Theology  thinking.  The  ninth  and  last, 
which  is  short,  glances  only  at 
some  desiderata  in  theological  science, 
and  is  chiefly  remarkable  as  it  displays  a 
more  liberal  and  catholic  spirit  than  was 
often  to  be  met  with  in  a  period  signalized 
by  bigotry  and  ecclesiastical  pride.  But 
as  the  abjuration  of  human  authority  is  the 
first  principle  of  Lord  Bacon's  philosophy, 
and  the  preparation  for  his  logic,  it  was 
not  expedient  to  say  too  much  of  its  use- 
fulness in  theological  pursuits. 

57.  At  the  conclusion  of  the  whole,  we 
Desiderata  mav  &n&  a  summary  catalogue 
enumerated  of  the  deficiencies  which,  in  the 
by  him.      course    of   this    ample    review, 
Lord  Bacon  had  found  worthy  of  being 
supplied  by  patient  and  philosophical  in- 
quiry.    Of  these  desiderata,  few,  I  fear, 
have  since  been  filled  up,  at  least  in  a  col- 
lective and  systematic  manner,  according 
to  his  suggestions.     Great  materials,  use- 
ful intimations,  and  even  partial  delinea- 
tions, are  certainly  to  be  found,  as  to  many 
of  the  rest,  in  the  writings  of  those  who 
have  done  honour  to  the  last  two  centu- 
ries.    But  with  all  our  pride  in  modern 
science,  very   much    even   of   what,  in 
Bacon's  time,  was  perceived  to  be  want- 
ing, remains  for  the  diligence  and  sagacity 
of  those  who  are  yet  to  come. 

58.  The  first  book  of  the  Novum  Or- 
Novum      ganum,  if  it  is  not  better  known 
Organum:  than  any  other  part  of  Bacon's 

wok.  philosophical  writings,  has  at  least 
furnished  more  of  those  striking  passages 
which  shine  in  quotation.  It  is  written  in 
detached  aphorisms ;  the  sentences,  even 
where  these  aphorisms  are  longest,  not 
flowing  much  into  one  another,  so  as  to 


create  a  suspicion  that  he  had  formed 
adversaria,  to  which  he  committed  his 
thoughts  as  they  arose.  It  is  full  of  repe- 
titions ;  and,  indeed,  this  is  so  usual  with 
Lord  Bacon,  that,  whenever  we  find  an 
acute  reflection  or  brilliant  analogy,  it  is 
more  than  an  even  chance  that  it  will  re- 
cur in  some  other  place.  I  have  already 
observed  that  he  has  hinted  the  Novum 
Organum  to  be  a  digested  summary  of  his 
method,  but  not  the  entire  system  as  he 
designed  to  develop  it,  even  in  that  small 
portion  which  he  has  handled  at  all. 

59.  Of  the  splendid  passages  in  the  No- 
vum Organum,  none  are  perhaps  Fallacies, 
so  remarkable  as  his  celebrated  ldola; 
division  of  fallacies ;  not  such  as  the  dia- 
lecticians had  been  accustomed  to  refute, 
depending  upon  equivocal  words  or  faulty 
disposition  of  premises,  but  lying  far  deeper 
in  the  natural  or  incidental  prejudices  of 
the  mind  itself.     These  are  four  in  num- 
ber: idola  tribus,  to  which,  from  certain 
common  weaknesses  of  human  nature,  we 
are  universally  liable  ;  idola  specus,  which, 
from   peculiar  dispositions   and   circum- 
stances of  individuals,  mislead  them   in 
different  manners;  idola  fori,  arising  from 
the  current  usage  of  words,  which  repre- 
sent things  much  otherwise  than  as  they 
really  are ;  and  idola  theatri,  which  false 
systems    of    philosophy    and    erroneous 
methods   of  reasoning  have   introduced. 
Hence,  as  the  refracted  ray  gives  us  a 
false  notion  as  to  the  place  of  the  object 
whose   image   it  transmits,  so   our  own 
minds  are  a  refracting  medium  to  the  ob- 
jects of  their  own  contemplation,  and  re- 
quire all  the  aid  of  a  well-directed  philoso- 
phy either  to  rectify  the  perception  or  to 
make  allowances  for  its  errors. 

60.  These  idola,  «(5w/la,  images,   illu- 
sions, fallacies,  or,  as  Lord  Bacon  confounded 
calls  them  in  the  Advancement  of  with  idols. 
Learning,  false   appearances,  have   been 
often  named  in  English  idols  of  the  tribe, 
of  the  den,  of  the  market-place.     But  it 
seems  better,  unless  we  retain  the  Latin 
name,  to  employ  one  of  the  synonymous 
terms  given  above.     For  the  use  of  idol 
in  this  sense  is  unwarranted  by  the  prac- 
tice of  the  language,  nor  is  it  found  in 
Bacon  himself;  but  it  has  misled  a  host 
of  writers,  whoever  might  be  the  first  that 
applied  it,  even  among  such  as  are  con- 
versant with  the  Novum  Organum.     "  Ba- 
con proceeds,"  says  Playfair.  "  to  enumer- 
ate the  causes  of  error,  the  idols,  as  he 
calls  them,  or  false  divinities  to  which  the 
mind   had  so  long  been   accustomed  to 
bow."     And  with  a  similar  misapprehen- 
sion of  the  meaning  of  the  word,  in  speak- 
ing of  the  idola  specus,  he  says  :  "  Besides 


FROM  1600  TO  1650. 


79 


the  causes  of  error  which  are  common  to 
all  mankind,  each  individual,  according  to 
Bacon,  has  his  own  dark  cavern  or  den, 
into  which  the  light  is  imperfectly  ad- 
mitted, and  in  the  obscurity  of  which  a 
tutelary  idol  lurks,  at  whose  shrine  the 
truth  is  often  sacrificed."*  Thus  also  Dr. 
Thomas  Brown  :  "  in  the  inmost  sanctua- 
ries of  the  mind  were  all  the  idols  which 
he  overthrew ;"  and  a  later  author  on 
the  Novum  Organum  fancies  that  Bacon 
"  strikingly,  though  in  his  usual  quaint 
style,  calls  the  prejudices  that  check  the 
progress  of  the  mind  by  the  name  of  idols, 
because  mankind  are  apt  to  pay  homage 
to  these  instead  of  regarding  truth. "f 
Thus,  too,  in  the  translation  of  the  Novum 
Organum,  published  in  Mr.  Basil  Monta- 
gu's edition,  we  find  idola  rendered  by 
idols,  without  explanation.  We  may,  in 
fact,  say  that  this  meaning  has  been  almost 
universally  given  by  later  writers.  By 
whom  it  was  -introduced  I  am  not  able  to 
say.  Cudworth,  in  a  passage  where  he 
glances  at  Bacon,  has  said,  "it  is  no  idol 
of  the  den,  to  use  that  affected  language." 
But,  in  the  pedantic  style  of  the  seven- 
teenth century,  it  is  not  impossible  that 
idol  may  here  have  been  put  as  a  mere 
translation  of  the  Greek  eiSuhov,  and  in  the 
same  general  sense  of  an  idea  or  intellect- 
ual image. J  Although  the  popular  sense 
would  not  be  inapposite  to  the  general 
purpose  of  Bacon  in  this  first  part  of  the 
Novum  Organum,  it  cannot  be  reckoned 
so  exact  and  philosophical  an  illustration 
of  the  sources  of  human  error  as  the  un- 
faithful image,  the  shadow  of  reality,  seen 
through  a  refracting  surface,  or  reflected 
from  an  unequal  mirror,  as  in  the  Platonic- 
hypothesis  of  the  cave,  wherein  we  are 
placed  with  our  backs  to  the  light,  to  which 
he  seems  to  allude  in  his  idola  specus.^ 
And  as  this  is  also  plainly  the  true  mean- 

*  Preliminary  Dissertation  to  Encyclopaedia. 

t  Introduction  to  the  Novum  Organum,  published 
by  the  Society  fo*  the  Diffusion  of  Useful  Knowl- 
edge. Even  Stewart  seems  to  have  fallen  into  the 
same  error.  "  While  these  idols  of  the  den  main- 
tain their  authority,  the  cultivation  of  the  philo- 
sophical spirit  is  impossible  ;  or,  rather,  it  is  in  a  re- 
nunciation of  this  idolatry  that  the  philosophical 
spirit  essentially  consists." — Dissertation,  &c.  The 
observation  is  equally  true,  whatever  sense  we  may 
give  to  idol. 

J  In  Todd's  edition  of  Johnson's  Dictionary  this 
sense  is  not  mentioned.  But  in  that  of  the  Encyclo- 
paedia Metropolitana  we  have  these  words  :  "  An 
idol  or  image  is  also  opposed  to  a  reality  ;  thus  Lord 
Bacon  (see  the  quotation  from  him)  speaks  of  idols 
or  false  appearances."  The  quotation  is  from  the 
translation  of  one  of  his  short  tracts,  which  is  not 
made  by  himself.  It  is,  however,  a  proof  that  the 
word  idol  was  once,  at  least,  used  in  this  sense. 

()  Quisque  ex  phantasise  suas  cellulis,  tanquam 
or  specu  P!atonis,philosophatur.—  Historia  Natura- 


ing,  as  a  comparison  with  the  parallel  pas- 
sages in  the  Advancement  of  Learning 
demonstrates,  there  can  be  no  pretence 
for  continuing  to  employ  a  word  which 
has  served  to  mislead  such  men  as  Brown 
and  Playfair. 

61.  In  the  second  book  of  the  Novum  Or- 
ganum, we  come  at  length  to  Sc(;ond  book 
the  new  logic,  the  interpretation  of  Novum 
of  nature,  as  he  calls  it,  or  the  Oreanum- 
rule  for  conducting  inquiries  in  natural 
philosophy  according  to  his  inductive 
method.  It  is,  as  we  have  said,  a  frag- 
ment of  his  entire  system,  and  is  chiefly 
confined  to  the  "  prerogative  instances,"* 
or  phaenomena  which  are  to  be  selected, 
for  various  reasons,  as  most  likely  to  aid 
our  investigations  of  nature.  Fifteen  of 
these  are  used  to  guide  the  intellect,  five 
to  assist  the  senses,  seven  to  correct  the 
practice.  This-  second  book  is  written 
with  more  than  usual  want  of  perspicuity ; 
and,  though  it  is  intrinsically  the  Baconian 
philosophy  in  a  pre-eminent  sense,  I  much 
doubt  whether  it  is  very  extensively  read, 
though  far  more  so  than  it  was  fifty  years 
since.  Playfair,  however,  has  given  an  ex- 
cellent abstract  of  it  in  his  Preliminary 
Dissertation  to  the  Encyclopaedia  Britan- 
nica,  with  abundant  and  judicious  illus- 
trations from  modern  science.  Sir  John 
Herschel,  in  his  admirable  Discourse  on 
Natural  Philosophy,  has  added  a  greater 
number  from  still  more  recent  discoveries, 
and  has  also  furnished  such  a  luminous 
development  of  the  difficulties  of  the  No- 
vum Organum  as  had  been  vainly  hoped 
in  former  times.  The  Commentator  of 
Bacon  should  be  himself  of  an  original 
genius  in  philosophy.  These  novel  illus- 
trations are  the  more  useful,  because  Ba- 
con himself,  from  defective  knowledge 
of  natural  phaenomena,  and  from  what, 
though  contrary  to  his  precepts,  his  ardent 
fancy  could  not  avoid,  a  premature  hasten- 
ing to  explain  the  essences  of  things  in- 
stead of  their  proximate  causes,  has  fre- 
quently given  erroneous  examples.  It  is 


lis,  in  praefatione.  Coleridge  has  some  fine  lines 
in  allusion  to  this  hypothesis  in  that  magnificent 
effusion  of  his  genius,  the  introduction  to  the  second 
book  of  Joan  of  Arc,  hut  withdrawn,  after  the  first 
edition,  from  that  poem  ;  where  he  describes  us  as 
"  Placed  with  our  backs  to  bright  reality."  I  am 
not,  however,  certain  that  Bacon  meant  this. — See 
De  Angmentis,  lib.  v.,  c  4. 

*  The  allusion  in  "  prarogativae  instantiarum"  is 
not  to  the  English  word  prerogative,  as  Sir  John 
Herschel  seems  to  suppose  (Discourse  on  Natural 
Philosophy,  p.  182),  but  to  the  praerogativa  centuna 
in  the  Roman  comitia,  which  being  first  called, 
though  by  lot,  was  generally  found,  by  some  preju- 
dice or  superstition,  to  influence  the  rest,  which  sel- 
dom voted  otherwise.  It  is  rather  a  forced  analogy, 
which  is  not  uncommon  with  Bacon. 


80 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


to  be  observed,  on  the  other  hand,  that  he 
often  anticipates,  with  marvellous  sagaci- 
ty, the  discoveries  of  posterity,  and  that  his 
patient  and  acute  analysis  of  the  phaenom- 
ena  of  heat  has  been  deemed  a  model  of 
his  own  inductive  reasoning.  "  No  one," 
observes  Playfair,  "  has  done  so  much  in 
such  circumstances."  He  was  even  igno- 
rant of  some  things  that  he  might  have 
known ;  he  wanted  every  branch  of  math- 
ematics ;  and,  placed  in  this  remote  corner 
of  Europe,  without  many  kindred  minds 
to  animate  his  zeal  for  physical  science, 
seems  hardly  to  have  believed  the  discov- 
eries of  Galileo. 

62.  It  has  happened  to  Lord  Bacon,  as 
confidence  it  has  to  many  other  writers,  that 
of  Bacon,  he  has  been  extolled  for  qualities 
by  no  means  characteristic  of  his  mind. 
The  first  aphorism  of  the  Novum  Orga- 
num,  so  frequently  quoted, "  Man,  the  ser- 
vant and  interpreter  of  nature,  performs 
and  understands  so  much  as  he  has  col- 
lected concerning  the  order  of  nature  by 
observation  or  reason,  nor  do  his  power 
or  his  knowledge  extend  farther,"  has 
seemed  to  bespeak  an  extreme  sobriety 
of  imagination,  a  willingness  to  acquiesce 
in  registering  the  phenomena  of  nature 
without  seeking  a  revelation  of  her  se- 
crets. And  nothing  is  more  true  than  that 
such  was  the  cautious  and  patient  course 
of  inquiry  prescribed  by  him  to  all  the 
genuine  disciples  of  his  inductive  method. 
But  he  was  far  from  being  one  of  those 
humble  philosophers  who  would  limit  hu- 
man science  to  the  enumeration  of  partic- 
ular facts.  He  had,  on  the  contrary,  vast 
hopes  of  the  human  intellect  under  the 
guidance  of  his  new  logic.  The  Latens 
Schematismus,  or  intrinsic  configuration  of 
bodies ;  the  Latens  processus  ad  formam, 
or  transitional  operation  through  which 
they  pass  from  one  form  or  condition  of 
nature  to  another,  would  one  day,  as  he 
hoped,  be  brought  to  light ;  and  this  not, 
of  course,  by  simple  observation  of  the 
senses,  nor  even  by  assistance  of  instru- 
ments, concerning  the  utility  of  which  he 
was  rather  skeptical,  but  by  a  rigorous  ap- 
plication of  exclusive  and  a'ffirmative  prop- 
ositions to  the  actual  phenomena  by  the 
inductive  method.  "  It  appears,"  says 
Playfair,  "  that  Bacon  placed  the  ultimate 
object  of  philosophy  too  high,  and  too 
much  out  of  the  reach  of  man,  even  when 
his  exertions  are  most  skilfully  conduct- 
ed. He  seems  to  have  thought  that,  by 
giving  a  proper  direction  to  our  research- 
es, and  carrying  them  on  according  to  the 
inductive  method,  we  should  arrive  at  the 
knowledge  of  the  essences  of  the  pow- 
ers and  qualities  residing  in  bodies ;  that 


we  should,  for  instance,  become  acquaint- 
ed with  the  essence  of  heat,  of  cold,  of 
colour,  of  transparency.  The  fact,  how- 
ever, is  that,  in  as  far  as  science  has  yet 
advanced,  no  one  essence  has  been  discov- 
red,  either  as  to  matter  in  general,  or  as 
to  any  of  its  more  extensive  modifications. 
We  are  yet  in  doubt  whether  heat  is  a  pe- 
culiar motion  of  the  minute  parts  of  bod- 
ies, as  Bacon  himself  conceived  it  to  be, 
or  something  emitted  or  radiated  from 
their  surfaces  ;  or,  lastly,  the  vibrations  of 
an  elastic  medium  by  which  they  are  pen- 
etrated and  surrounded." 

63.  It  requires  a  very  extensive  survey 
of  the  actual  dominion  of  sci-  Almost  jus- 
ence,  and  a  great  sagacity  to  tifiedoriate; 
judge,  even  in  the  loosest  manner,  what 
is  beyond  the  possible  limits  of  human 
knowledge.  Certainly,  since  the  time 
when  this  passage  was  written  by  Play- 
fair,  more  steps  have  been  made  towards 
realizing  the  sanguine  anticipations  of  Ba- 
con than  in  the  two  centuries  that  had 
elapsed  since  the  publication  of  the  Novum 
Organum.  We  do  not  yet  know  the  real  an- 
ture  of  heat ;  but  few  would  pronounce  it 
impossible,  or  even  unlikely,  that  we  may 
know  it,  in  the  same  sense  that  we  know 
other  physical  realities  not  immediately 
perceptible,  before  many  years  shall  have 
expired.  The  atomic  theory  of  Dalton, 
the  laws  of  crystalline  substances  discov- 
ered by  Hauy,.  the  development  of  others 
still  subtler  by  Mitscherlich,  instead  of  ex- 
hibiting, as  the  older  philosophy  had  done, 
the  idola  rerum,  the  sensible  appearances 
of 'concrete  substance,  radiations  from  the 
internal  glory,  admit  us,  as  it  were,  to 
stand  within  the  vestibule  of  nature's  tem- 
ple, and  to  gaze  on  the  very  curtain  of  the 
shrine.  If,  indeed,  we  could  know  the  in- 
ternal structure  of  one  primary  atom,  and 
could  tell,  not,  of  course,  by  immediate  tes- 
timony of  sense,  but  by  legitimate  infer- 
ence from  it,  through  what  constant  laws 
its  component  molecules,  the  atoms  of 
atoms,  attract,  retain,  and  repel  each  other, 
we  should  have  before  our  mental  vision 
not  only  the  Latens  Schematismus,  the 
real  configuration  of  substances,  but  their 
form  or  efficient  nature,  and  could  give  as 
perfect  a  definition  of  any  one  of  them — of 
gold,  for  example — as  we  can  of  a  cone  or 
a  parallelogram.  The  recent  discoveries 
of  animal  and  vegetable  development,  and 
especially  the .  happy  application  of  the 
microscope  to  observing  chymical  and  or- 
ganic changes  in  their  actual  course,  are 
equally  remarkable  advances  towards  a 
knowledge  of  the  Latens  processus  ad 
formam,  the  corpuscular  motions  by  which 
all  change  must  be  accomplished,  and  are, 


FROM  1600  TO  1650. 


in  iact,  a  great  deal  more  than  Bacon  him- 
self would  have  deemed  possible.* 

64.  These   astonishing   revelations   of 
bnt  should     natural  mysteries,  fresh  tidings 
DC  kept  with-  of  which  crowd  in  upon  us  eve- 
m  bounds.     ry  jg^  may  be  ij^iy  to  over- 
whelm all  sober  hesitation  as  to  the  capa- 
cities of  the  human  mind,  and  to  bring 
back  that  confidence  which  Bacon,  in  so 
much  less  favourable  circumstances,  has 
ventured  to  feel.     There  seem,  however, 
to  be   good  reasons   for  keeping  within 
bounds  this  expectation  of  future  improve- 
ment, which,  as  it  has  sometimes  been  an- 
nounced in  unqualified  phrases,  is  hardly 
more  philosophical  than  the  vulgar  suppo- 
sition that  the  capacities  of  mankind  are 
almost   stationary.     The   phenomena  of 
nature,  indeed,  in  all  their  possible  combi- 
nations, are  so  infinite,  in  a  popular  sense 
of  the   word,   that  during  no  period   to 
which  the  human  species  can  be  conceived 
to  reach  would  they  be  entirely  collected 
and  registered.     The  case  is  still  stronger 
as  to  the  secret  agencies  and  processes  by 
means  of  which  their  phenomena  are  dis- 
played.    These  have  as  yet,  in  no   one 
instance,   so   far  as   I    know,  been  fully 
ascertained.     "  Microscopes,"   says   Hcr- 
schel,  "  have  been  constructed  which  mag- 
nify more  than  one  thousand  times  in  lin- 
ear dimension,  so  that  the  smallest  visible 
grain  of  sand   may  be   enlarged   to  the 
appearance   of  one    million   times    more 
bulky  ;  yet  the  only  impression  we  receive 
by  viewing  it  through  such  a  magnifier  is 
that  it  reminds  us  of  some  vast  fragment 
of  a  rock  ;  while  the  intimate  structure  on 
which  depend  its  colour,  its  hardness,  and 
its  chymical  properties,  remains  still  con- 
cealed ;  we  do  not  seem   to   have  made 
even  an  approach  to  a  closer  analysis  of 
it  by  any  such  scrutiny."! 

65.  The  instance  here  chosen  is  not  the 
Limits  to  our  most  favourable  for  the  experi- 
knowiedge     mental  philosopher.     He  might 
by  sense.      perhaps    hope    to    gain    more 
knowledge  by  applying  the  best  micro- 
scope to  a  regular  crystal  or  to  an  orga- 
nized substance.     And  it  is  impossible  not 
to  regret  that  the  great  discovery  of  the 
solar  microscope  has  been  either  so  im- 
perfectly  turned  to  account   by  philoso- 
phers, or  has  disappointed  their  hopes  of 


*  By  the  Latens  processus  he  meant  only  what 
Is  the  natural  operation  by  which  one  form  or  con- 
dition of  being  is  induced  upon  another.  Thus, 
when  the  surface  of  iron  becomes  rusty,  or  when 
water  is  converted  into  steam,  some  change  has  ta- 
ken place,  a  latent  progress  from  one  form  to  another. 
This,  in  numberless  cases,  we  can  now  answer,  at 
least  to  a  very  great  extent,  by  the  science  of  chym- 
istry.  f  Discourse  on  Nat.  Philos.,  p.  191. 

VOL.  II.— L 


exhibiting  the  mechanism  of  nature  with 
the  distinctness  they  require.  But  there 
is  evidently  a  fundamental  limitation  of 
physical  science,  arising  from  those  of  the 
bodily  senses  and  of  muscular  motions. 
The  nicest  instruments  must  be  construct- 
ed and  directed  by  the  human  hand ;  the 
range  of  the  finest  glasses  must  have  a 
limit,  not  only  in  their  own  natural  struc- 
ture, but  in  that  of  the  human  eye.  But  no 
theory  in  science  will  be  acknowledged  to 
deserve  any  regard,  except  as  it  is  drawn 
immediately,  and  by  an  exclusive  process, 
from  the  phenomena  which  our  senses  re- 
port to  us.  Thus  the  regular  observation 
of  definite  proportions  in  chymical  combi- 
nation has  suggested  the  atomic  theory; 
and  even  this  has  been  skeptically  accept- 
ed by  our  cautious  school  of  philosophy. 
If  we  are  ever  to  go  farther  into  the  mole- 
cular analysis  of  substances,  it  must  be 
through  the  means  and  upon  the  authority 
of  new  discoveries  exhibited  to  our  senses 
in  experiment.  But  the  existing  powers 
of  exhibiting  or  compelling  nature  by  in- 
struments, vast  as  they  appear  to  us,  and 
wonderful  as  has  been  their  efficacy  in 
many  respects,  have  done  little  for  many 
years  past  in  diminishing  the  number  of 
substances  reputed  to  be  simple  ;  and  with 
strong  reasons  to  suspect  that  some,  of 
these,  at  least,  yield  to  the  crucible  of 
nature,  our  electric  batteries  have  up  to 
this  hour  played  innocuously  round  their 
heads. 

66.  Bacon  has   thrown   out,  once   or 
twice,  a  hint  at  a  single  principle,  a  sum- 
mary law   of  nature,  as   if  all  subordi- 
nate causes  resolved  themselves  into  one 
great  process,  according  to  which   God 
works   his  will  in  the   universe  :    Opus 
quod  operatur  Deus  a  principio  usque  ad 
finem.      The  natural  tendency  towards 
simplification,  and  what  we  consider  as 
harmony,  in  our  philosophical  systems, 
which  Lord  Bacon  himself  reckons  among 
the  idola  tribus,  the  fallacies  incident  to 
the  species,  has  led  some  to  favour  this 
unity  of  physical  law.     Impact  and  grav- 
ity have  each  had  their  supporters.     But 
we  are  as  yet  at  a  great  distance  from  es- 
tablishing such  a  generalization,  nor  does 
it  appear  by  any  means  probable  that  it 
will  ever  assume  any  simple  form. 

67.  The  close  connexion  of  the  inductive 
process   recommended  by  Ba-  inductiveio- 
con  with  natural  philosophy,  in  gic;  wheth- 
the  common  sense  of  that  word,  •*  c?nflned 

,   . ,  ,        ,        .  ,. ,  •      to  physics. 

and  the  general  selection  of  his 
examples  for  illustration  from  that  sci- 
ence,  have   given    rise   to   a    questi  n 
whether  he  comprehended   metaphysical 
and  moral  philosophy  within  the  scope  of 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


his  inquiry.*  That  they  formed  a  part  of 
the  Installation  of  Sciences,  and,  there- 
fore, of  the  Baconian  philosophy,  in  the 
fullest  sense  of  the  word,  is  obvious  from 
the  fact  that  a  large  proportion  of  the 
treatise  De  Augmentis  Scientiarum  is  ded- 
icated to  those  subjects  ;  and  it  is  not  less 
so  that  the  idols,  of  the  Novum  Organum 
are  at  least  as  apt  to  deceive  us  in  moral 
as  in  physical  argument.  The  question, 
therefore,  can  only  be  raised  as  to  the  pe- 
culiar method  of  conducting  investigations, 
which  is  considered  as  his  own.  This 
would,  however,  appear  to  have  been  de- 
cided by  himself  in  very  positive  lan- 
guage. "  It  may  be  doubted,  rather  than 
objected,  by  some,  whether  we  look  to  the 
perfection,  by  means  of  our  method,  of 
natural  philosophy  alone,  or  of  the  other 
sciences,  also,  of  logic,  of  ethics,  of  poli- 
tics. But  we  certainly  mean  what  has 
here  been  said  to  be  understood  as  to 
them  all ;  and  as  the  ordinary  logic,  which 
proceeds  by  syllogism,  does  not  relate  to 
physical  only,  but  to  every  other  science  ; 
so  ours,  which  proceeds  by  induction, 
comprises  them  all.  For  we  as  much 
collect  a  history  and  form  tables  .concern- 
ing anger,  fear,  shame,  and  the  like,  and 
also  concerning  examples  from  civil  life, 
and  as  much  concerning  the  intellectual 
operations  of  memory,  combination  and 
partition,  judgment  and  the  others,  as  con- 
cerning heat  and  cold,  or  light,  or  vegeta- 
tion, or  such  things."!  But  he  proceeds 
to  intimate,  as  far  as  I  understand  the  next 
sentence,  that,  although  his  method  or  lo- 


*  This  question  was  discussed  some  years  since 
by  the  late  editor  of  the  Edinburgh  Review  on  one 
side,  and  by  Dugald  Stewart  on  the  other.  See 
Edinburgh  Review,  vol.  iii.,  p.  273,  and  the  Prelim- 
inary Dissertation  to  Stewart's  Philosophical  Es- 
says. 

t  Etiam  dubitabit  quispiam  potius  quam  objiciet, 
utrurn  nos  de  natural!  tantum  philosophia,  an  etiam 
de  scientiis  reliquis,  logicis,  ethicis,  politicis,  secun- 
dum  viam  nostram  perficiendi£  loquamur.  At  nos 
certe  de  universis  haec,  quae  dicta  sunt,  intelligimus  ; 
atque  quemadmodum  vulgaris  logica,  quse  regit  res 
per  syllogismum,  non  tantum  ad  naturales,  sed  ad 
omnes  scientias  pertinet,  ita  et  nostra,  quse  procedit 
per  inductionem,  omnia  complectitur.  Tarn  enirn 
Historiam  et  Tabulas  Inveniendi  conficimus  de  ira, 
metu  et  verecundia  et  similibus,  ac  etiam  de  exem- 
plis  rerum  civilium ;  nee  minfis  de  motibus  mentali- 
bus  mernoria;  compositionis  et  divisionis,  iudicii  et 
reliquorum,  quam  de  calido  et  frigido,  autluce,  aut 
vegetatione  aut  similibus.  Sed  tamen  cum  nostra 
ratio  interpretandi,  post  historiam  prasparatam  et 
ordinatam,  non  mentis  tantum  motus  et  discursus, 
ut  logica  vulgaris,  sed  et  rerurn  naturam  intueatur, 
ita  mentem  regimus  ut  ad  rerum  naturam  se  aptis 
per  omnia  modis  appjicare  possit.  Atque  propterea 
multa  etdiversa  in  doctrina  interpretationis  pracip- 
imus,  quae  ad  subjecti,  de  quo  inquirimus,  qualita- 
tem  et  conditionem  modum  inveniendi  nonnulla  ex 
parte  applicent.— -Nov.  Org,  i.,  127. 


gic,  strictly  speaking,  is  applicable  to  oth- 
er subjects,  it  is  his  immediate  object  to 
inquire  into  the  properties  of  natural 
things,  or  what  is  generally  meant  by 
physics.  To  this,  indeed,  the  second  book 
of  the  Novum  Organum,  and  the  portions 
that  he  completed  of  the  remaining  parts 
of  the  Instauratio  Magna,  bear  witness. 

68.  It  by  no  means  follows,  because  the 
leading  principles  of  the  induct- 
ive philosophy  are   applicable  fosop"yb"iit 
to  other  topics  of  inquiry  than  on  observa- 
what  is  usually  comprehended  I1e/}nfenndl  ex~ 
under  the  name  of  physics,  that 

we  can  employ  all  the  praerogativae  instan- 
tiarum,  and,  still  less,  the  peculiar  rules 
for  conducting  experiments  which  Bacon 
has  given  us,  in  moral,  or  even  in  psy- 
chological disquisitions.  Many  of  them 
are  plainly  referrible  to  particular  manip- 
ulations, or,  at  most,  to  limited  subjects 
of  chymical  theory.  And  the  frequent 
occurrence  of  passages  which  show  Lord 
Bacon's  fondness  for  experimental  pro- 
cesses, seem  to  have  led  some  to  consider 
his  peculiar  methods  as  more  exclusively 
related  to  such  modes  of  inquiry  than  they 
really  are.  But  when  the  Baconian  phi- 
losophy is  said  to  be  experimental,  we 
are  to  remember  that  experiment  is  only 
better  than  what  we  may  call  passive  ob- 
servation, because  it  enlarges  our  capaci- 
ty of  observing  with  exactness  and  expe- 
dition. The  reasoning  is  grounded  on  ob- 
servation in  both  cases.  In  astronomy 
where  nature  remarkably  presents  the  ob- 
jects of  our  observation  without  liability 
to  error  or  uncertain  delay,  we  may  rea- 
son on  the  inductive  principle  as  well  as 
in  sciences  that  require  tentative  opera- 
tions. The  inference  drawn  from  the  dif- 
ference of  time  in  the  occupation  of  the 
satellites  of  Jupiter  at  different  seasons, 
in  favour  of  the  Copernican  theory  and 
against  the  instantaneous  motion  of  light, 
is  an  induction  of  the  same  kind  with  any 
that  could  be  derived  from  an  experiment- 
urn  crucis.  It  is  an  exclusion  of  those 
hypotheses  which  might  solve  many  phe- 
nomena, but  fail  to  explain  those  immedi- 
ately observed. 

69.  But  astronomy,  from  the  compara- 
tive solitariness,  if  we  may  so  Advantages 
say,  of  all  its  phenomena,  and  of  the  latter, 
the  simplicity  of  their  laws,  has  an  advan- 
tage that  is  rarely  found  in  sciences  of 
mere  observation.     Bacon  justly  gave  to 
experiment,  or  the  interrogation  of  nature, 
compelling  her  to  give  up  her  secrets,  a 
decided  preference   whenever  it  can  be 
employed :  and  it  is  unquestionably  true 
that  the   inductive  method   is  tedious,  if 
not  uncertain,  when  it  cannot  resort  to 


FROM  1600  TO  1050. 


83 


so  compendious  a  process.  One  of  the 
subjects  selected  by  Bacon,  in  the  third 
part  of  the  Installation,  as  specimens  of 
the  method  by  which  an  inquiry  into  na- 
ture should  be  conducted,  the  History  of 
Winds,  does  not  greatly  admit  of  experi- 
ments ;  and  the  very  slow  progress  of 
meteorology,  which  has  yet  hardly  de- 
served the  name  of  a  science,  when  com- 
pared with  that  of  chymistry  or  optics, 
will  illustrate  the  difficulties  of  employing 
the  inductive  method  without  their  aid. 
It  is  not,  therefore,  that  Lord  Bacon's 
method  of  philosophizing  is  experimental, 
but  that  by  experiment  it  is  most  success- 
fully developed. 

70.  It  will  follow  from  hence,  that  in 
proportion  as,  in  any  matter  of 
applicable8  in(llury> we  can  separate,  in  what 
to  phiioso-  we  examine,  the  determining  con- 
fiiaiufiiud"  ditions,  or  law  of  form,  from  ev- 
erything extraneous,  we  shall  be 
more  able  to  use  the  Baconian  method 
with  advantage.  In  metaphysics,  or  what 
Stewart  would  have  called  the  philosophy 
of  the  human  mind,  there  seems  much  in 
its  own  nature  capable  of  being  subjected 
to  the  inductive  reasoning.  Such  are 
those  facts  which,  by  their  intimate  con- 
nexion with  physiology,  or  the  laws  of  the 
bodily  frame,  fall  properly  within  the  prov- 
ince of  the  physician.  In  these,  though 
exact  observation  is  chiefly  required,  it  is 
often  practicable  to  shorten  its  process  by 
experiment.  And  another  important  il- 
lustration may  be  given  from  the  educa- 
tion of  children,  considered  as  a  science 
of  rules  deduced  from  observation ;  where- 
in also  we  are  frequently  more  able  to 
substitute  experiment  for  mere  experi- 
ence than  with  mankind  in  general,  whom 
we  may  observe  at  a  distance,  but  cannot 
control.  In  politics,  as  well  as  in  moral 
Less  so  to  prudence,  we  can  seldom  do 
politics  and  more  than  this.  It  seems,  how- 
inorais.  ever,  practicable  to  apply  the 
close  attention  enforced  by  Bacon,  and 
the  careful  arrangement  and  comparison 
of  phenomena,  which  are  the  basis  of  his 
induction,  to  these  subjects.  Thus,  if  the 
circumstances  of  all  popular  seditions  re- 
corded in  history  were  to  be  carefully 
collected  with  great  regard  to  the  proba- 
bility of  evidence,  and  to  any  peculiarity 
that  may  have  affected  the  results,  it  might 
be  easy  to  perceive  such  a  connexion  of 
antecedent  and  subsequent  events  in  the 
great  plurality  of  instances,  as  would  rea- 
sonably lead  us  to  form  probable  inferences 
as  to  similar  tumults  when  they  should 
occur.  This  has  sometimes  been  done, 
with  less  universality,  and  with  much  less 
accuracy  than  the  Baconian  method  re- 


quires, by  such  theoretical  writers  on  pol- 
itics as  Machiavel  and  Bodin.  But  it  has 
been  apt  to  degenerate  into  pedantry,  and 
to  disappoint  the  practical  statesman,  who 
commonly  rejects  it  with  scorn;  partly 
because  civil  history  is  itself  defective, 
seldom  giving  a  just  view  of  events,  and 
still  less  frequently  of  the  motives  of  those 
concerned  in  them  ;  partly  because  the 
history  of  mankind  is  far  less  copious 
than  that  of  nature,  and  in  much  that  re- 
lates to  politics  has  not  yet  had  time  to 
furnish  the  groundwork  of  a  sufficient  in- 
duction; but  partly,  also,  from  some  dis- 
tinctive circumstances,  which  affect  our 
reasonings  in  moral  far  more  than  in  phys- 
ical science,  and  which  deserve  to  be  con- 
sidered, so  far,  at  least,  as  to  sketch  tha 
arguments  that  might  be  employed. 

71.  The  Baconian  logic,  as  has  been  al- 
ready said,  deduces  universal  Indnctjon 
principles  from  select  observa-  less  conciu- 
tion,  that  is,  from  particular,  gj^g",^68* 
and,  in  some  cases  of  experi- 
ment, from  singular  instances.  It  may 
easily  appear,  to  one  conversant  with  the 
syllogistic  method,  less  legitimate  than  the 
old  induction,  which  proceeded  by  an  ex- 
haustive enumeration  of  particulars,  and, 
at  most,  warranting  but  a  probable  con- 
clusion. The  answer  to  this  objection 
can  only  be  found  in  the  acknowledged 
uniformity  of  the  laws  of  nature,  so  that 
whatever  has  once  occurred  will,  under 
absolutely  similar  circumstances,  always 
occur  again.  This  may  be  called  the 
suppressed  premise  of  every  Baconian 
enthymem,  every  inference  from  observa- 
tion of  phenomena,  which  extends  beyond 
the  particular  case.  When  it  is  once  as- 
certained that  water  is  composed  of  one 
proportion  of  oxygen  to  one  of  hydrogen, 
we  never  doubt  but  that  such  are  its  inva- 
riable constituents.  We  may  repeat  the 
experiment,  to  secure  ourselves  against 
the  risk  of  error  in  the  operation,  or  of 
some  unperceived  condition  that  may  have 
affected  the  result ;  but,  when  a  sufficient 
number  of  trials  has  secured  us  against 
this,  an  invariable  law  of  nature  is  infer- 
red from  the  particular  instance ;  no  one 
conceives  that  one  pint  of  pure  water  can 
be  of  a  different  composition  from  anoth- 
er. All  men,  even  the  most  rude,  reason 
upon  this  primary  maxim ;  but  they  rea- 
son inconclusively  from  misapprehending 
the  true  relations  of  cause  and  effect  in  the 
phenomena  to  which  they  direct  their  at- 
tention. It  is  by  the  sagacity  and  ingenu- 
ity with  which  Bacon  h^s  excluded  the  va- 
rious sources  of  error,  and  disengaged  the 
true  cause,  that  his  method  is  distinguish- 
ed from  that  which  the  vulgar  practise. 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


72.  It  is  required,  however,  for  the  va- 

Reasons  for    lidity  of  this   method'  first'  that 

this  diffjr-  there  should  be  a  strict  uniform- 
ence.  jtv  jn  tjje  general  laws  of  nature, 

from  which  we  can  infer  that  what  has 
been  will,  in  the  same  conditions,  be  again ; 
and,  secondly,  that  we  shall  be  able  to 
perceive  and  estimate  all  the  conditions 
with  an  entire  and  exclusive  knowledge. 
The  first  is  granted  in  all  physical  phae- 
nomena;  but  in  those  which  we  cannot 
submit  to  experiment,  or  investigate  by 
some  such  method  as  Bacon  has  pointed 
out,  we  often  find  our  philosophy  at  fault 
for  want  of  the  second.  Such  at  present 
is  the  case  with  respect  to  many  parts  of 
chymistry ;  for  example,  that  of  organic 
substances,  which  we  can  analyze,  but,  as 
yet,  can  in  very  few  instances  recompose. 
We  do  not  know,  and,  if  we  did  know, 
could  not,  perhaps,  command,  the  entire 
conditions  of  organic  bodies  (even  struc- 
turally, not  as  living),  the  form,  as  Bacon 
calls  it,  of  blood,  or  milk,  or  oak-galls. 
But,  in  attempting  to  subject  the  actions  of 
men  to  this  inductive  philosophy,  we  are 
arrested  by  the  want  of  both  the  necessa- 
ry requisitions.  Matter  can  only  be  di- 
verted from  its  obedience  to  unvarying 
laws  by  the  control  of  mind ;  but  we  have 
to  inquire  whether  mind  is  equally  the 
passive  instrument  of  any  law.  We  have 
to  open  the  great  problem  of  human  liber- 
ty, and  must  deny  even  a  disturbing  force 
to  the  will  before  we  can  assume  that  all 
actions  of  mankind  must,  under  given  con- 
ditions, preserve  the  same  necessary  train 
of  sequences  as  a  molecule  of  matter. 
But,  if  this  be  answered  affirmatively,  we 
are  still  almost  as  far  removed  from  a  con- 
clusive result  as  before.  We  cannot, 
without  contradicting  every  day  experi- 
ence, maintain  that  all  men  are  deter- 
mined alike  by  the  same  exterior  circum- 
stances ;  we  must  have  recourse  to  the 
differences  of  temperament,  of  physical 
constitution,  of  casual  or  habitual  associa- 
tion. The  former  alone,  however,  are,  at 
the  best,  subject  to  our  observation,  either 
at  the  time,  or,  as  is  most  common,  through 
testimony  ;  of  the  latter,  no  being,  which 
does  not  watch  the  movements  of  the  soul 
itself,  can  reach  more  than  a  probable  con- 
jecture. Sylla  resigned  the  dictatorship ; 
therefore  all  men,  in  the  circumstances  of 
Sylla,  will  do  the  same,  is  an  argument 
false  in  one  sense  of  the  word  circumstan- 
ces, and  useless,  at  least,  in  the  other.  It 
is  doubted  by  many  whether  meteorology 
will  ever  be  well  Understood,  on  account 
of  the  complexity  of  the  forces  concerned, 
and  their  remoteness  from  the  apprehen- 
sion of  the  senses.  Do  not  the  same  dif- 


ficulties apply  to  human  affairs  1  And 
while  we  reflect  on  these  difficulties,  to 
which  we  must  add  those  which  spring 
from  the  scantiness  of  our  means  of  ob- 
servation, the  defectiveness  and  falsehood 
of  testimony,  especially  what  is  called 
historical,  and  a  thousand  other  errors  to 
which  the  various  "  idola  of  the  world 
and  the  cave"  expose  us,  we  shall  be 
rather  astonished  that  so  many  probable 
rules  of  civil  prudence  have  been  treasured 
up  and  confirmed  by  experience,  than  dis- 
posed to  give  them  a  higher  place  in  phi- 
losophy than  they  can  claim. 

73.  It  might  be  alleged  in  reply  to  these 
considerations,  that,  admitting,  Considera. 
the  absence  of  a  strictly  scien-  tions  on  the 
tific  certainty  in  moral  reason-  overside, 
ing,  we  have  yet,  as  seems  acknowledged 
on  the  other  side,  a  great  body  of  proba- 
ble inferences,  in  the  extensive  knowledge 
and  sagacious  application  of  which  most 
of  human  wisdom  consists.  And  all  that 
is  required  of  us  in  dealing  either  with 
moral  evidence  or  with  the  conclusions 
we  draw  from  it,  is  to  estimate  the  proba- 
bility of  neither  too  high ;  an  error  from 
which  the  severe  and  patient  discipline  of 
the  inductive  philosophy  is  most  likely  to 
secure  us.  It  would  be  added  by  some, 
that  the  theory  of  probabilities  deduces  a 
wonderful  degree  of  certainty  from  things 
very  uncertain,  when  a  sufficient  number 
of  experiments  can  be  made ;  and  thus, 
that  events  depending  upon  the  will  of 
mankind,  even  under  circumstances  the 
most  anomalous,  and  apparently  irreduci- 
ble to  principles,  may  be  calculated  with  a 
precision  inexplicable  to  any  one  who  has 
paid  little  attention  to  the  subject.  This, 
perhaps,  may  appear  rather  a  curious  ap- 
plication of  mathematical  science  than 
one  from  which  our  moral  reasonings  are 
likely  to  derive  much  benefit,  especially 
as  the  conditions  under  which  a  very  high 
probability  can  mathematically  be  obtain- 
ed involve  a  greater  number  of  trials  than 
experience  will  generally  furnish.  It  is, 
nevertheless,  a  field  that  deserves  to  be 
more  fully  explored  :  the  success  of  those 
who  have  attempted  to  apply  analytical 
processes  to  moral  probabilities  has  not 
hitherto  been  very  encouraging,  inasmuch 
as  they  have  often  come  to  results  falsi- 
fied by  experience  ;  but  a  more  scrupulous 
regard  to  all  the  conditions  of  each  prob- 
lem may  perhaps  obviate  many  sources 
of  error.* 


*  A  calculation  was  published  not  long  since, 
said  to  be  on  the  authority  of  an  eminent  living  phi- 
losopher, according  to  which,  granting  a  moderate 
probability  that  each  of  twelve  jurors  would  decide 
rightly,  the  chances  in  favour  of  the  rectitude  o 


FROM  1600  TO  1650. 


85 


J  i.  It  seems,  upon  the  whole,  that  we 
Result  or  should  neither  conceive  the  in- 
the  whole,  ductive  method  to  be  useless  in 
regard  to  any  subject  but  physical  science, 
nor  deny  the  peculiar  advantages  it  pos- 
sesses in  those  inquiries  rather  than  oth- 
ers. What  must  in  all  studies  be  impor- 
tant, is  the  habit  of  turning  round  the  sub- 
ject of  our  investigation  in  every  light,  the 
observation  of  everything  that  is  peculiar, 
the  exclusion  of  all  that  we  find  on  reflec- 
tion to  be  extraneous.  In  historical  and 
antiquarian  researches  ;  in  all  critical  ex- 
amination which  turns  upon  facts ;  in  the 
scrutiny  of  judicial  evidence,  a  great  part 
of  Lord  Bacon's  method,  not,  of  course, 
all  the  experimental  rules  of  the  Novum 
Organum,  has,  as  I  conceive,  a  legitimate 
application.*  I  would  refer  any  one  who 


their  unanimous  verdict  were  made  something  ex- 
travagantly high,  I  think  about  8000  to  1.  It  is 
more  easy  to  perceive  the  fallacies  of  this  pretend- 
ed demonstration  than  to  explain  how  a  man  of 
great  acuteness  should  have  overlooked  them.  One 
among  many  is,  that  it  assumes  the  giving  a  verdict 
at  all  to  be  voluntary,  whereas,  in  practice,  the  jury 
must  decide  one  way  or  the  other.  We  must  de- 
duct, therefore,  a  fraction,  expressing  the  probabil- 
ity that  some  of  the  twelve  have  wrongly  conceded 
their  opinions  to  the  rest.  One  danger  of  this  rath- 
er favourite  application  of  mathematical  principles 
to  moral  probabilities,  as  indeed  it  is  of  statistical 
tables  (a  remark  of  far  wider  extent),  is,  that,  by 
considering  mankind  merely  as  units,  it  practically 
habituates  the  mind  to  a  moral  and  social  levelling, 
as  inconsistent  with  a  just  estimate  of  men  as  it  is 
characteristic  of  the  present  age. 

*  The  principle  of  Bacon's  prerogative  instances, 
and  perhaps,  in  some  cases,  a  very  analogous  appli- 
cation of  them,  appear  to  hold  in  our  inquiries  into 
historical  evidence.  The  fact  sought  to  be  ascer- 
tained in  the  one  subject  corresponds  to  the  physi- 
cal law  in  the  other.  The  testimonies,  as  we, 
though  rather  laxly,  call  them,  or  passages  in 
books  from  which  we  infer  the  fact,  correspond  to 
the  observations  or  experiments  from  which  we  de- 
duce the  law.  The  necessity  of  a  sufficient  induc- 
tion, by  searching  for  all  proof  that  may  bear  on  the 
question,  is  as  manifest  in  one  case  as  in  the  other. 
The  exclusion  of  precarious  and  inconclusive  evi- 
dence is  alike  indispensable  in  both.  The  selection 
of  prerogative  instances,  or  such  as  carry  with  them 
satisfactory  conviction,  requires  the  same  sort  of 
inventive  and  reasoning  powers.  It  is  easy  to  il- 
lustrate this  by  examples.  Thus,  in  the  controver- 
sy concerning  the  Icon  Basilike,  the  admission  of 
Gauden's  claim  by  Lord  Clarendon  is  in  the  nature 
of  a  prerogative  instance ;  it  renders  the  supposition 
of  the  falsehood  of  that  claim  highly  improbable. 
But  the  many  second-hand  and  hearsay  testimonies 
which  may  be  alleged  on  the  olher  side,  to  prove 
that  the  book  was  written  by  King  Charles,  are  not 
prerogative  instances,  because  their  falsehood  will 
be  found  to  involve  very  little  improbability.  So, 
in  a  different  controversy,  the  silence  of  some  of 
the  fathers  as  to  the  text,  commonly  called,  of  the 
three  heavenly  witnesses,  even  while  expounding 
the  context  of  the  passage,  is  a  quasi  prerogative  in- 
stance;  a  decisive  proof  that  they  did  not  know  it, 
or  did  not  believe  it  genuine  ;  because,  if  they  did, 
no  motive  can  be  conceived  for  the  omission.  But 


may  doubt  this  to  his  History  of  Winds, 
as  one  sample  of  what  we  mean  by  the 
Baconian  method,  and  ask  whether  a  kind 
of  investigation,  analogous  to  what  is 
therein  pursued  for  the  sake  of  eliciting 
physical  truths,  might  not  be  employed  in 
any  analytical  process  where  general  or 
even  particular  facts  are  sought  to  be 
known.  Or,  if  an  example  is  required  of 
such  an  investigation,  let  us  look  at  the 
copious  induction  from  the  past  and  ac- 
tual history  of  mankind  upon  which  Mal- 
thus  established  his  general  theory  of  the 
causes  which  have  retarded  the  natural 
progress  of  population.  Upon  all  these 
subjects,  before  mentioned,  there  has  been 
an  astonishing  improvement  in  the  rea- 
soning of  the  learned,  and  perhaps  of  the 
world  at  large,  since  the  time  ?f  Bacon, 
though  much  remains  very  defective.  In 
what  degree  it  may  be  owing  to  the  prev- 
alence of  a  physical  philosophy,  founded 


the  silence  of  Laurentius  Valla  as  to  its  absence 
from  the  manuscripts  on  which  he  commented,  is 
no  prerogative  instance  to  prove  that  it  was  con- 
tained in  them  ;  because  it  is  easy  to  perceive  that 
he  might  have  motives  for  saying  nothing ;  and, 
though  the  negative  argument,  as  it  is  called,  or  in- 
ference that  a  fact  is  not  true,  because  such  and 
such  persons  have  not  mentioned  it,  is,  taken  gen- 
erally, weaker  than  positive  testimony,  it  will  fre- 
quently supply  prerogative  instances  where  the  lat- 
ter does  not.  Launoy,  in  a  little  treatise,  De  Auc- 
toritate  Negantis  Argumenti,  which  displays  more 
plain  sense  than  ingenuity  or  philosophy,  lays  it 
down  that  a  fact  of  a  public  nature,  which  is  not 
mentioned  by  any  writer  within  200  years  of  the 
time,  supposing,  of  course,  that  there  is  extant  a 
competent  number  of  writers  who  would  naturally 
have  mentioned  it,  is  not  to  be  believed.  The  pe- 
riod seems  rather  arbitrary,  and  was  possibly  so 
considered  by  himself;  but  the  general  principle  is 
of  the  highest  importance  in  historical  criticism. 
Thus,  in  the  once  celebrated  question  of  Pope  Joan, 
the  silence  of  all  writers  near  the  time  as  to  so  won- 
derful a  fact  was  justly  deemed  a  kind  of  preroga- 
tive argument  when  set  in  opposition  to  the  many 
repetitions  of  the  story  in  later  ages.  But  the  si- 
lence of  Gildas  and  Bede  as  to  the  victories  of  Ar- 
thur is  no  such  argument  against  their  reality,  be- 
cause they  were  not  under  a  historical  obligation, 
or  any  strong  motive,  which  would  prevent  their  si- 
lence. Generally  speaking,  the  more  anomalous 
and  interesting  an  event  is,  the  stronger  is  the  ar- 
gument against  its  truth  from  the  silence  of  con- 
temporaries, on  account  of  the  propensity  of  man- 
kind to  believe  and  recount  the  marvellous;  and 
the  weaker  is  the  argument  from  the  testimony  of 
later  times  for  the  same  reason.  A  similar  analogy 
holds  also  in  jurisprudence.  The  principle  of  our 
law,  rejecting  hearsay  and  secondary  evidence,  is 
founded  on  the  Baconian  rule.  Fifty  persons  may 
depose  that  they  have  heard  of  a  fact  or  of  its  cir- 
cumstances ;  but  the  eyewitness  is  the  prerogative 
instance.  It  would  carry  usjoo  far  to  develop  this 
at  length,  even  if  I  were  fully  prepared  to  do  so ; 
but  this  much  may  lead  us  to  think,  that  whoever 
shall  fill  up  that  lamentable  desideratum,  the  logic 
of  evidence,  ought  to  have  familiarized  himself  with 
the  Novum  Organum. 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


upon  his  inductive  logic,  it  might  not  bi 
uninteresting  to  inquire.* 

75.  It  is  probable  that  Lord  Bacon  nev 
„      ,    rti   er  much  followed  up  in  his  owi 

l>ill  Oil  a  apll*  .,          ,        .  1'j."  f      1_  * 

tude  former-  mind    that    application   of   hi 
ai  subjects,    method  to   psychological,   am 
still  less  to  moral  and  political  subjects 
which  he  has  declared  himself  to  intend 
The  distribution  of  the  Instauratio  Magna 
which  he  has  prefixed  to  it,  relates  wholly 
to  physical  science.     He  has  in  no  one 
instance  given  an  example,  in  the  Novum 
Organum,  from  moral  philosophy,  and  one 
only,  that  of  artificial  memory,  from  what 
he  would  have   called  logic. f     But   we 
must  constantly  remember  that  the  phi- 
losophy of  Bacon  was  left  exceedingly  in- 
complete.    Many  lives  would  not  nave 
sufficed  for  what  he  had  planned,  and  he 
gave  only  the  hong  subsecwa,  of  his  own. 
It    is    evident    that   he   had   turned   his 
thoughts  to   physical   philosophy  rather 
for  an  exercise  of  his  reasoning  faculties, 
and  out  of  his  insatiable  thirst  for  knowl- 
edge, than  from  any  peculiar  aptitude  for 
their  subjects,  much  less  any  advantage 
of  opportunity  for  their  cultivation.     He 
was  more  eminently  the  philosopher  of 
human  than  of  general  nature.     Hence  he 
is  exact,  as  well  as  profound,  in  all  his  re- 
flections on  civil  life  and  mankind,  while 
his    conjectures    in   natural    philosophy, 
though  often  very  acute,  are  apt  to  wan- 
der far  from  the  truth  in  consequence  of 


*  "The  effects  which  Bacon's  writings  have 
hitherto  produced,  have  indeed  been  far  more  con- 
spicuous in  physics  than  in  the  science  of  mind 
Even  here,  however,  they  have  been  great  and  most 
important,  as  well  as  in  some  collateral  branches 
of  knowledge,  such  as  natural  jurisprudence,  polit- 
ical economy,  criticism,  and  morals,  which  spring 
up  from  the  same  root,  or,  rather,  which  are  branch- 
es of  that  tree  of  which  the  science  of  mind  is  the 
trunk."— Stewart's  Philosophical  Essays,  Prelim. 
Dissertation.  The  principal  advantage,  perhaps,  of 
those  habits  of  reasoning  which  the  Baconian  meth- 
ods, whether  learned  directly,  or  through  the  many 
disciples  of  that  school,  have  a  tendency  to  gener- 
ate, is,  that  they  render  men  cautious  and  pains- 
taking in  the  pursuit  of  truth,  and  therefore  restrain 
them  from  deciding  too  soon.  Nemo  reperitur  qui 
in  rebus  ipsis  et  experientia  moram  fecerit  legiti- 
main.  These  words  are  more  frequently  true  of 
moral  and  political  reasoners  than  of  any  others. 
Men  apply  historical  of  personal  experience,  but 
they  apply  it  hastily,  and  without  giving  themselves 
time  for  either  a  copious  or  an  exact  induction  ;  the 
great  majority  being  too  much  influenced  by  pas- 
sion, party  spirit,  or  vanity,  or  perhaps  by  affections 
morally  right,  but  not  the  less  dangerous  in  reason- 
ing, to  maintain  the  patient  and  dispassionate  sus- 
pense of  judgment  (aKaraAjjifia),  which  ought  to  be 
the  condition  of  our  inquiries. 

t  Nov.  Organ.,  ii.,  26.  It  may,  however,  be  ob- 
served, that  we  find  a  few  passages  in  the  ethical 
part  of  De  Augmentis,  lib.  vii.,  cap.  3,  which  show 
that  he  had  some  notions  of  moral  induction  germi- 
nating in  his  mini 


his  defective  acquaintance  with  the  phae- 
nomena  of  nature.  His  Centuries  of  Nat- 
ural History  give  abundant  proof  of  this. 
He  is,  in  all  these  inquiries,  like  one 
doubtfully,  and  by  degrees,  making  out  a 
distant  prospect,  but  often  deceived  by 
the  haze.  But  if  we  compare  what  may 
be  found  in  the  sixth,  seventh,  and  eighth 
books. De  Augmentis;  in  the  Essays,  the 
History  of  Henry  VII.,  and  the  various 
short  treatises  contained  in  his  works  on 
moral  and  political  wisdom,  and  on  human 
nature,  from  experience  of  which  all  such 
wisdom  is  drawn,  with  the  Rhetoric,  Eth- 
ics, and  Politics  of  Aristotle,  or  with  the 
historians  most  celebrated  for  their  deep 
insight  into  civil  society  and  human  char- 
acter; with  Thucydides,  Tacitus,  Philip  de 
Comines,  Machiavel,  Davila,  Hume,  we 
shall,  I  think,  find  that  one  man  may  al- 
most be  compared  with  all  of  these  to- 
gether. When  Galileo  is  named  as  equal 
to  Bacon,  it  is  to  be  remembered  that  Gal- 
ileo was  no  moral  or  political  philosopher, 
and  in  this  department  Leibnitz  certainly 
falls  ver)r  short  of  Bacon.  Burke  perhaps 
omes,  of  all  modern  writers,  the  nearest 
to  him ;  but,  though  Bacon  may  not  be 
more  profound  than  Burke,  he  is  still  more 
copious  and  comprehensive. 

76.  The  comparison  of  Bacon  and  Gal- 
leo  is  naturally  built  upon  the  comparison 
nlluence  which,  in  the  same  age,  of  Bacon  and 
they  exerted  in  overthrowing  Gallleo- 
;he  philosophy  of  the  schools,  and  in  found- 
ng  that  new  discipline  of  real  science 
which  has  rendered  the  last  centuries  glo- 
rious. Hume  has  given  the  preference  to 
he  latter,  who  made  accessions  to  the  do- 
main of  human  knowledge  so  splendid,  so 
naccessible  to  cavil,  so  unequivocal  in 
heir  results,  that  the  majority  of  man- 
kind would  perhaps  be  carried  along  with 
his  decision.  There  seems,  however,  to  be 
10  doubt  that  the  mind  of  Bacon  was  more 
comprehensive  and  profound.  But  these 
jomparisons  are  apt  to  involve  incommen- 
urable  relations.  In  their  own  intellect- 
al  characters  they  bore  no  great  resem- 
blance to  each  other.  Bacon  had  scarce 
my  knowledge  of  geometry,  and  so  far 
anks  much  below  not  only  Galileo,  but 
)escartes,  Newton,  and  Leibnitz,  all  sig- 
lalized  by  wonderful  discoveries  in  the 
cience  of  quantity,  or  in  that  part  of 
mysics  which  employs  it.  He  has,  in 
me  of  the  profound  aphorisms  of  the  No- 
urn  Organum,  distinguished  the  two  spe- 
ies  of  philosophical  genius  ;  one  more  apt 
o  perceive  the  differences  of  things,  the 
>ther  their  analogies.  In  a  mind  of  the 
lighest  order  neither  of  these  powers  will 

really  deficient,  and  his  own  inductive 


FROM  1600  TO  1650. 


method  is  at  once  the  best  exercise  of 
both,  and  the  best  safeguard  against  the 
excess  of  either.  But,  upon  the  whole,  it 
may  certainly  be  said  that  the  genius  of 
Lord  Bacon  was  naturally  more  inclined 
to  collect  the  resemblances  of  nature  than 
to  note  her  differences.  This  is  the  case 
with  men  like  him  of  sanguine  temper, 
warm  fancy,  and  brilliant  wit ;  but  it  is 
not  the  frame  of  mind  which  is  best  suit- 
ed to  strict  reasoning. 

77.  It  is  no  proof  of  a  solid  acquaintance 
with  Lord  Bacon's  philosophy  to  deify 
his  name  as  the  ancient  schools  did  those 
of  their  founders,  or  even  to  exaggerate 
the  powers  of  his  genius.  Powers  they 
were  surprisingly  great,  yet  limited  in 
their  range,  and  not  in  all  respects  equal ; 
nor  could  they  overcome  every  impedi- 
ment of  circumstance.  Even  of  Bacon 
it  may  be  said  that  he  attempted  more 
than  he  has  achieved,  and  perhaps  more 
than  he  clearly  apprehended.  His  objects 
appear  sometimes  indistinct,  and  I  am  not 
sure  that  they  are  always  consistent.  In 
the  Advancement  of  Learning  he  aspired 
to  fill  up,  or,  at  least,  to  indicate  the  defi- 
ciencies in  every  department  of  knowl- 
edge ;  he  gradually  confined  himself  to 
philosophy,  and  at  length  to  physics. 
But  fe,w  of  his  works  can  be  deemed 
complete,  not  even  the  treatise  De  Aug- 
mentis,  which  comes  nearer  to  it  than 
most,  of  the  rest.  Hence  the  study  of 
Lord  Bacon  is  difficult,  and  not,  as  I  con- 
ceive, very  well  adapted  to  those  who 
have  made  no  progress  whatever  in  the 
exact  sciences,  nor  accustomed  them- 
selves to  independent  thinking.  They 
have  never  been  made  a  textbook  in  our 
universities ;  though,  after  a  judicious 
course  of  preparatory  studies — by  which  I 
mean  a  good  foundation  in  geometiy  and 
the  philosophical  principles  of  grammar — 
the  first  book  of  the  Novum  Organum 
might  be  very  advantageously  combined 
with  the  instruction  of  an  enlightened  lec- 
turer.*  

*  It  is  by  no  means  to  be  inferred,  that,  because 
the  actual  text  of  Bacon  is  not  always  such  as  can 
be  well  understood  by  very  young  men,  I  object  to 
their  being  led  to  the  real  principles  of  inductive 
philosophy,  which  alone  will  teach  them  to  think, 
firmly,  but  not  presumptuously,  for  themselves. 
Few  defects,  on  the  contrary,  in  our  system  of  edu- 
cation are  more  visible  than  the  want  of  an  ade- 
quate course  of  logic  ;  and  this  is  not  likely  to  be 
rectified  so  long  as  the  Aristotelian  methods  chal- 
lenge that  denomination  exclusively  of  all  other 
aids. to  the  reasoning  faculties.  The  position  that 
nothing  else  is  to  be  called  logic,  were  it  even 
agreeable  to  the  derivation  of  the  word,  which  it  is 
not,  or  to  the  usage  of  the  ancients,  which  is  by 
no  means  uniformly  the  case,  or  to  that  of  modern 
philosophy  and  correct  language,  which  is  certain- 
ly not  at-all  the  case>  is  no  answer  to  the  question, 


78.  The  ignorance  of  Bacon  in  mathe- 
matics, and,  what  was  much  nis  prejudice 
worse,  his  inadequate  notions  against  matu- 
of  their  utility,  must  be  reck,  ematics- 


whether  what  we  call  logic  does  not  deserve  to  be 
taught  at  all. 

A  living  writer  of  high  reputation,  who  has  at 
least  fully  understood  his  own  subject,  and  illus- 
trated it  better  than  his  predecessors,  from  a  more 
enlarged  reading  and  thinking,  wherein  his  own 
acuteriess  has  been  improved  by  the  writers  of  the 
Baconian  school,  has  been  unfortunately  instru- 
mental, by  the  very  merits  of  his  treatise  on  Logic, 
in  keeping  up  the  prejudices  on  this  subject,  which 
have  generally  been  deemed  characteristic  of  the 
university  to  which  he  belonged.  All  the  reflection 
I  have  been  able  to  give  to  the  subject  has  con- 
vinced me  of  the  inefiicacy  of  the  syllogistic  art  in 
enabling  us  to  think  rightly  for  ourselves,  or,  which 
is  part  of  thinking  rightly,  in  detecting  those  falla- 
cies of  others  which  might  impose  on  our  under- 
standing before  we  have  acquired  that  art.  It  has 
been  often  alleged,  and,  as  far  as  I  can  judge,  with 
perfect  truth,  that  no  man  who  can  be  worth  an- 
swering ever  commits,  except  through  mere  inad- 
vertence, any  paralogisms  which  the  common  logic 
serves  to  point  out.  It  is  easy  enough  to  construct 
syllogisms  which  sin  against  its  rules;  but  the 
question  is,  by  whom  they  were  employed.  It  is 
not  uncommon,  as  I  am  aware,  to  represent  an  ad- 
versary as  reasoning  illogically  ;  but  this  is  gener- 
ally effected  by  putting  his  argument  into  our  own 
words.  The  great  fault  of  all,  over-induction,  or 
the  assertion  of  a  general  premise  upon  an  insuffi- 
cient examination-  of  particulars,  cannot  be  discov- 
ered or  cured  by  any  logical  skill ;  and  this  is  the 
error  into  which  men  really  fall,  not  that  of  omit- 
ting to  distribute  the  middle  term,  though  it  comes  in 
effect,  and  often  in  appearance,  to  the  same  thing. 
I  do  not  contend  that  the  rules  of  syllogism,  which 
are  very  short  and  simple, ought  not  to  be  learned; 
or  that  there  may  not  be  some  advantage  in  occa- 
sionally stating  our  own  argument,  or  calling  on 
another  to  state  his,  in  a  regular  form  (an  advan- 
tage, however,  rather  dialectical,  which  is,  in  other 
words,  rhetorical,  than  one  which  affects  the  rea- 
soning faculties) :  nor  do  I  deny  that  it  is  philo- 
sophically worth  while  to  know  that  all  general  rea- 
soning by  words  may  be  reduced  into  syllogism,  as  it 
is  to  know  that  most  of  geometry  may  be  resolved 
into  the  super-position  of  equal  triangles ;  but  to 
represent  this  portion  of  logical  science  as  the 
whole,  appears  to  me  almost  like  teaching  the 
scholar  Euclid's  axioms,  and  the  axiomatic  theo- 
rem to  which  I  have  alluded,  and  calling  this  the 
science  of  geometry.  The  following  passage  from 
the  Port-Royal  logic  is  very  judicious  and  candid, 
giving  as  much  to  the  Aristotelian  system  as  it  de- 
serves :  "  Cette  partie,  que  nous  avons  mainte- 
nant  a  trailer,  qui  comprend  les  regies  du  raisonne- 
ment,  est  estimee  la  plus  importante  de  la  logique, 
et  c'est  presque  1'unique  qu'on  y  traite  avec  quelque 
soin  ;  mais  il  y  a  sujet  de  douter  si  elle  est  aussi 
utile  qu'on  se  Pimagine.  La  plupart  des  erreurs 
des  hommes,  comme  nous  avons  deja  dit  ailleurs, 
viennent  bien  plus  de  ce  qu'ils  raisonnent  sur  de 
faux  principes,  que  non  pas  de  ce  qu'ils  raisonnent 
mal  suivant  leurs  principes.  II  arrive  rarement 
qu'on  se  laisse  tromper  par  des  raisonnemens  qui 
ne  soient  faux  que  parceque  la  consequence  en  est 
mal  tiree ;  et  ceux  qui  ne  seroient  pas  capables 
d'en  reconnoitre  la  faussete  par  la  seule  lumiere  de 
la  raison,  ne  le  seroient  pas  ordinairement  d'enten- 
dre  les  regies  que  1'on  en  donne,  et  encore  moins  de 
les  appliquer.  Neanmoins,  quaud  on  ne  considers 


88 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


oned  among  the  chief  defects  in  his  phil- 
osophical writings.  In  a  remarkable  pas- 
sage of  the  Advancement  of  Learning,  he 
held  mathematics  to  be  a  part  of  meta- 
physics ;  but  the  place  of  this  is  altered 
in  the  Latin,  and  they  are  treated  as 
merely  auxiliary  or  instrumental  to  phys- 
ical inquiry.  He  had  some  prejudice 
against  pure  mathematics,  and  thought 
they  had  been  unduly  elevated  in  com- 
parison with  the  realities  of  nature.  "  I 
know  not,"  he  says,  "  how  it  has  arisen 
that  mathematics  and  logic,  which  ought 
to  be  the  serving-maids  of  physical  phi- 
losophy, yet  affecting  to  vaunt  the  cer- 
tainty that  belongs  to  them,  presume  to 
exercise  a  dominion  over  her."  It  is 
surely  very  erroneous  to  speak  of  geome- 
try, which  relates  to  the  objective  reali- 
ties of  space,  and  to  natural  objects  so  far 
as  extended,  as  a  mere  handmaid  of  phys- 
ical philosophy,  and  not  rather  a  part  of 
it.  Playfair  has  made  some  good  remarks 
on  the  advantages  derived  to  experimental 
philosophy  itself  from  the  mere  applica- 
tion of  geometry  and  algebra.  And  one 
of  the  reflections  which  this  ought  to  ex- 
cite is,  that  we  are  not  to  conceive,  as 
some  hastily  do,  that  there  can  be  no  real 
utility  to  mankind,  even  of  that  kind  of 
utility  which  consists  in  multiplying  the 
conveniences  and  luxuries  of  life,  spring- 
ing from  theoretical  and  speculative  in- 
quiry. The  history  of  algebra,  so  barren 
in  the  days  of  Tartaglia  and  Vieta,  so 
productive  of  wealth  when  applied  to  dy- 


roit  ces  regies  que  comme  des  verites  speculatives, 
elles  serviroient  toujours  a  exercer  1'esprit ;  et  de 
plus,  on  ne  peut  nier  qu'elles  n'aient  quelque  usage 
en  quelques  rencontres,  et  a  1'egard  de  quelques 
personnes,  qui,  etant  d'un  naturel  vif  et  penetrant, 
ne  se  laissent  quelquefois  troinper  par  des  fausses 
consequences,  que  faute  d'attention,  a  quoi  la  re- 
flexion qu'ils  feroient  sur  ces  regies,  seroit  capable 
de  remedier."— Art  de  Penser,  part  iii.  How  dif- 
ferent is  this  sensible  passage  from  one  quoted  from 
some  anonymous  writer  in  Whateley's  Logic,  p.  34. 
"  A  fallacy  consists  of  an  ingenious  mixture  of  truth 
and  falsehood,  so  entangled,  so  intimately  blended, 
that  the  fallacy  is,  in  the  chymical  phrase,  held  in 
solution  ;  one  drop  of  sound  logic  is  that  test  which 
immediately  disunites  them,  makes  the  foreign 
substance  visible,  and  precipitates  it  to  the  bottom." 
One  fallacy,  it  might  be  answered,  as  common  as 
any,  is  the  false  analogy,  the  misleading  the  mind 
by  a  comparison,  where  there  is  no  real  proportion 
or  resemblance.  The  chymist's  test  is  the  necessary 
means  of  detecting  the  foreign  substance ;  if  the 
"  drop  of  sound  logic"  be  such,  it  is  strange  that 
lawyers,  mathematicians,  and  mankind  in  general 
should  so  sparingly  employ  it ;  the  fact  being  noto- 
rious, that  those  most  eminent  for  strong  reasoning 
powers  are  rarely  conversant  with  the  syllogistic 
method.  It  is  also  well  known,  that  these  "  inti- 
mately blended  mixtures  of  truth  and  falsehood" 
deceive  no  man  of  plain  sense.  So  much  for  the 
Utt. 


namical  calculations  in  our  own,  may  be 
a  sufficient  answer. 

79.  One  of  the  petty  blemishes  which, 
though  lost  in  the  splendour  of  Bacon's  ex- 
Lord  Bacon's  excellences,  it  is  cess  of  wit. 
not  unfair  to  mention,  is  connected  with 
the  peculiar  characteristics  of  his  mind  ; 
he  is  sometimes  too   metaphorical   and 
witty.     His  remarkable  talent  for  discov- 
ering analogies  seems  to  have  inspired 
him  with  too  much  regard  to  them  as  ar- 
guments, even  when  they  must  appear  to 
any  common  reader  fanciful  and  far-fetch- 
ed.    His  terminology,  chiefly  for  the  same 
reason,  is  often  a  little  affected,  and,  in 
Latin,  rather  barbarous.     The   divisions 
of  his  prerogative  instances  in  the  Novum 
Organum  are  not  always  founded  upon  in- 
telligible distinctions.     And  the  general 
obscurity  of  the  style,   neither  himself 
nor  his  assistants  being  good  masters  of 
the  Latin  language,  which,  at  the  best,  is 
never  flexible  or  copious  enough  for  our 
philosophy,  renders  the  perusal  of  both 
his  great  works  too  laborious  for  the  im- 
patient  reader.      Brucker  has   well   ob- 
served, that   the    Novum    Organum   has 
been  neglected   by  the   generality,    and 
proved  of  far  less  service  than  it  would 
otherwise   have   been  in  philosophy,   in 
consequence   of  these   very  defects,   as 
well  as  the  real  depth  of  the   author's 
mind.* 

80.  What  has  been  the  fame  of  Bacon, 
"the    wisest,  greatest    of   man-  Fameof 
kind,"  it  is  needless  to  say.    What  Bacon  on 
has  been  his  real  influence  over  the  Conli* 
mankind :   how  much  of  our  en-  "' 
larged  and  exact  knowledge  may  be  at- 
tributed to  his  inductive  method  ;  what  of 
this,  again,  has  been  due  to  a  thorough 
study   of  his   writings,  and   what  to  an 
indirect  and  secondary  acquaintance  with 
them,  are  questions  of  another  kind,  and 
less  easily  solved.     Stewart,  the  philoso- 
pher who  has  dwelt  most  on  the  praises 
of  Bacon,  while  he  conceives  him  to  have 
exercised   a  considerable  influence  over 
the  English  men  of  science  in  the  seven- 
teenth century,  supposes,  on  the  authority 
of  Montucla,  that  he  did  not  "  command 
the  general  admiration  of  Europe"  till  the 
publication  of  the  preliminary  discourse 
to  the  French  Encyclopedia  by  Diderot 
and  D'Alembert.      This,  however,  is  by 

*  Legenda  ipsa  nobilissima  tractatio  ab  illis  est, 
qui  in  rerum  naturalium  inquisitione  feliciter  pro- 
gredi  cupiunt.  Qua  si  paulo  plus  luminis  et  per- 
spicuitatis  haberet,  et  novorum  terminorum  et  par- 
titionum  artificio  lectorem  non  remoraretur,  longd 
plura,  quam  factum  est,  contulisset  ad  philosophiaa 
emendationem.  His  enim  obstantibus  a  plerisque 
hoc  organum  neglectum  est.— Hist.  Philos.,  v..  99. 


FROM  1600  TO  1650. 


69 


much  too  precipitate  a  conclusion.  He 
became  almost  immediately  known  on  the 
Continent.  Gassendi  was  one  of  his  most 
ardent  admirers.  Descartes  mentions  him, 
I  believe,  once  only,  in  a  letter  to  Mer- 
senne  in  1632  ;*  but  he  was  of  all  men  the 
most  unwilling  to  praise  a  contemporary. 
It  may  be  said  that  these  were  philoso- 
phers, and  that  their  testimony  does  not 
imply  the  admiration  of  mankind.  But 
writers  of  a  very  different  character  men- 
tion him  in  a  familiar  manner.  Richelieu 
is  said  to  have  highly  esteemed  Lord  Ba- 
con, f  And  it  may  in  some  measure  be 
due  to  this,  that  in  the  Sentimens  de  1'Aca- 
demie  Francaise  sur  le  Cid  he  is  alluded 
to,  simply  by  the  name  Bacon,  as  one  well 
known.!  Voiture,  in  a  letter  to  Costar, 
about  the  same  time,  bestows  high  eulogy 
on  some  passages  of  Bacon  which  his  cor- 
respondent had  sent  to  him,  and  observes 
that  Horace  would  have  been  astonished 
to  hear  a  barbarian  Briton  discourse  in 
such  a  style.  The  treatise  De  Augmentis 
was  republished  in  France  in  1624,  the 
year  after  its  appearance  in  England.  It 
was  translated  into  French  as  early  as 
1632  ;  no  great  proofs  of  neglect.  Edi- 
tions came  out  in  Holland,  1645,  1652,  and 
1662. §  Even  the  Novum  Organum,  which, 
as  has  been  said,  never  became  so  popular 
as  his  other  writings,  was  thrice  printed 
in  Holland,  in  1645, 1650,  and  1660.||  Leib- 
nitz and  Puffendorf  are  loud  in  their  ex- 
pressions of  admiration,  the  former  ascri- 
bing to  him  the  revival  of  true  philosophy 
as  fully  as  we  can  at  present.^  I  should 


*  Vol.  vi.,  p.  210,  edit.  Cousin. 

t  The  only  authority  that  I  can  now  quote  for 
this  is  not  very  good,  that  of  Aubrey's  Manuscripts, 
which  1  find  in  Seward's  Anecdotes,  iv.,  328.  But 
it  seems  not  improbable.  The  same  book  quotes 
Balzac  as  saying :  "  Croyons  done,  pour  1'amour  du 
Chancelier  Bacon,  que  toutes  les  folies  des  anciens 
Bont  sages ;  et  tous  leurs  songes  mysteres,  et  de 
celles-la  qui  sont  estimees  pures  fables,  il  n'y  en  a 
pas  une,  quelque  bizarre  et  extravagante  qu'elle  soit, 
qui  n'ait  son  fondement  dans  1'histoire,  si  Von  en 
veut  croire  Bacon,  et  qui  n'ait  ete  deguisee  de  15  sorte 
par  les  sages  du  vieux  temps,  pour  la  rendre  plus 
utile  aux  peuples." 

t  P.  44  (1633). 

§  J'ai  trouve  parfaitement  beau  tout  ce  que  vons 
me  mandez  de  Bacon.  Mais  ne  vous  semble  t'il 
pas  qu'  Horace  qui  disoit,  Visam  Britannos  hospiti- 
ous  feros,  seroit  bien  «tonne  d'entendre  un  barbare 
discourir  comme  cela?  Costar  is  said  by  Bayle  to 
have  borrowed  much  from  Bacon.  La  Mothe  le 
Vayer  mentions  him  in  his  Dialogues  ;  in  fact,  in- 
stances are  numerous. 

II  Montagu's  Life  of  Bacon,  p.  407.  He  has  not 
mentioned  an  edition  at  Strasburg,  1635,  which  is 
in  the  British  Museum. 

There  is  also  an  edition  without  time  or  place,  in 
the  catalogue  of  the  British  Museum. 

T  Brucker,  v.,95.  Stewart  says  that  "Bayle  does 
not  give  above  twehe  lines  to  Bacon ;"  but  he  calls 

VOL.  II.— M 


be  more  inclined  to  do-ubt  whether  he  were 
adequately  valued  by  his  countrymen  in 
his  own  time,  or  in-the  immediately  subse- 
quent period.  Under  the  first  Stuarts, 
there  was  little  taste  among  studious,  men 
but  for  theology,  and  chiefly  for  a  theolo<- 
gy  which,  proceeding  with  an  extreme 
deference  to  authority,  could  not  but  gen- 
erate a  disposition  of  mind,  even  upon 
other  subjects,  alien  to  the  progressive  and 
inquisitive  spirit  of  the  inductive  philoso- 
phy.* The  institution  of  the  Royal  Socie- 
ty, or,  rather,  the  love  of  physical  science 
out  of  which  that  institution  arose,  in  the 
second  part  of  the  seventeenth  century, 
made  England,  resound  with  the  name  of 
her  illustrious  chancellor.  Few  now  spoke 
of  him  without  a  kind  of  homage  that  only 
the  greatest  men  receive.  Yet  still  it  was 
by  natural  philosophers  alone  that  the  wri- 
tings of  Bacon  were  much  studied.  The 
editions  of  his  works,  except  the  Essays, 
were  few;  the  Novum  Organum  never 

him  one  of  the  greatest  men  of  his  age,  and  the 
length  of  an  article  in  Bayle  was  never  designed 
to  be  a  measure  of  the  merit  of  its  subject. 

*  It  is  not  uncommon  to  meet  with  persons,  espe- 
cially who  are  or  have  been  engaged  in  teaching  oth- 
ers dogmatically  what  they  have  themselves  received 
in  the  like  manner,  to  whom  the  inductive  philosophy 
appears  a  mere  school  of  skepticism,  or,  at  best, 
wholly  inapplicable  to  any  subjects  which  require 
entire  conviction.  A  certain  deduction  from  cer- 
tain premises  is  the  only  reason  they  acknowledge. 
This  is  peculiarly  the  case  with  theologians,  but  it  is 
also  extended  to  everything  which  is  taught  in  a  syn- 
thetic manner.  Lord  Bacon  has  a  remarkable  pas- 
sage on  this  in  the  9th  book  De  Augmentis.  Post- 
quam  articuli  et  principia  religionis  jam  in  sedibus 
suis  fuerint  locata,  ita  ut  a  rationis  examine  penitus 
eximantur,  turn  demum  conceditur  ab  illis  illationea 
derivare  ac  deducere,  secundum  analogiam  ipsorum. 
In  rebus  quidem  naturalibus  hoc  non  tenet.  Nam 
et  ipsa  principia  examini  subjiciuntur;  per  inducli- 
onem,  inquam,  licet  minime  per  syllogismum.  At- 
que  eadem  ilia  nullam  habent  cum  ratione  repug- 
nantiam,  ut  ab  eodem  fonte  cum  prima?  propositi- 
ones,  turn  mediae,  deducantur.  Aliter  fit  in  religio- 
ne  :  ubi  et  primae  propositiones  authopystatee  sunt, 
atque  per  se  subsistentes ;  et  rursus  non  reguntur 
ab  ilia  ratione  qua  propositiones  consequentes  de- 
ducit.  Neqne  tamen  hoc  fit  in  religione  sola,  sed 
etiam  in  aliis  scientiis,  tam  gravioribus,  quam  levi- 
oribus,  ubi  scilicet  propositiones  humanse  placita 
sunt,  non  posita  ;  siquidem  et  in  illis  rationis  usus 
absolntus  esse  non  potest.  Videmus  enim  in  ludis, 
puta  schaccorum,  aut  similibus,  priores  ludi  normas 
et  leges  mer6  positivas  esse,  et  ad  placitum ;  quai 
recipi,  non  in  disputationem  vocari,  prorsus  opor- 
teat ;  ut  vero  vincas,  et  peritd  lusum  instituas,  id  ar- 
tificiosum  est  et  rationale.  Eodem  modo  fit  et  in 
legibus  humanis ;  in  quibus  haud  paucae  sunt  maxi- 
ma1, ut  loquuntur,  hoc  est,  placita  mera  juris,  qua 
auctoritate  magis  quam  ratione  nituntur,  neque  in 
disceptationem  veniunt.  Quid  vero  sit  justissi- 
mum,  non  absolute,  sed  relative,  hoc  est  ex  analo- 
gi&  illarum  maximarum,  id  demum  rationale  est,  et 
latum  disputation!  campum  praebet.  This  passage, 
well  weighed,  may  show  us  where,  why,  and  by 
whom  the  synthetic  and  syllogistic  methods  ha,ve 
been  preferred  to  the  inductive  and  analytical. 


90 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


came  separately  from  the  English  press.* 
They  were  not  even  much  quoted ;  for  I 
believe  it  will  be  found  that  the  fashion  of 
referring  to  the  brilliant  passages  of  the 
De  Augmentis  and  the  Novum  Organum, 
at  least  in  books  designed  for  the  general 
reader,  is  not  much  older  than  the  close 
of  the  last  century.  Scotland  has  the 
merit  of  having  led  the  way;  Reid,  Stew- 
art, Robison,  and  Playfair  turned  that 
which  had  been  a  blind  veneration  into  a 
rational  worship  ;  and  I  should  suspect 
that  more  have  read  Lord  Bacon  within 
these  thirty  years  than  in  the  two  prece- 
ding centuries.  It  may  be  a  usual  con- 
sequence of  the  enthusiastic  panegyrics 
lately  poured  upon  his  name,  that  a  more 
positive  efficacy  has  sometimes  been  at- 
tributed to  his  philosophical  writings  than 
they  really  possessed;  and  it  might  be 
asked  whether  Italy,  where  he  was  proba- 
bly not  much  known,  were  not  the  true 
school  of  experimental  philosophy  in  Eu- 
rope ;  whether  his  methods  of  investigation 
were  not  x"!vlofly  such  as  men  of  sagacity 
and  lovers  of  truth  might  simultaneously 
have  devised.  But,  whatever  may  have 
been  the  case  with  respect  to  actual  dis- 
coveries in  science,  we  must  give  to  writ- 
ten wisdom  its  proper  meed ;  no  books 
prior  to  those  of  Lord  Bacon  carried  man- 
kind so  far  on  the  road  to  truth ;  none 
have  obtained  so  thorough  a  triumph  over 
arrogant  usurpation  without  seeking  to 
substitute  another ;  and  he  may  be  com- 
pared with  those  liberators  of  nations,  who 
have  given  them  laws  by  which  they  might 
govern  themselves,  and  retained  no  hom- 
age but  their  gratitude. f 


SECTION  III. 


*  The  De  Augmentis  was  only  once  published 
after  the  first  edition,  in  1638.  An  indifferent  trans- 
lation, by  Gilbert  Watts,  came  out  in  1640.  No 
edition  of  Bacon's  Works  was  published  in  Eng- 
land before  1730;  another  appeared  in  1740,  and 
there  have  been  several  since.  But  they  had  been 
printed  at  Frankfort  in  1665.  It  is  unnecessary  to 
observe  that  many  copies  of  the  foreign  editions 
were  brought  to  this  country.  This  is  mostly  ta- 
ken from  Mr.  Montagu's  account. 

t  I  have  met,  since  this  passage  was  written,  with 
one  in  Stewart's  Life  of  Reid,  which  seems  to  state 
the  effects  of  Bacon's  philosophy  in  a  just  and  tem- 
perate spirit,  and  which  I  rather  quote,  because  this 
writer  has,  by  his  eulogies  on  that  philosophy,  led 
some  to  an  exaggerated  notion.  "  The  influence  of 
Bacon's  genius  on  the'  subsequent  progress  of 
physical  discovery  has  been  seldom  duly  apprecia- 
ted ;  by  some  writers  almost  entirely  overlooked, 
and  by  others  considered  as  the  sole  cause  of  the 
reformation  in  science  which  has  since  taken  place. 
Of  these  two  extremes,  the  latter  certainly  is  the 
least  wide  of  the  truth :  for  in  the  whole  history 
of  letters  no  other  individual  can  be  mentioned 
whose  exertions  have  had  so  indisputable  an  etfect 
in  forwardinj  the  intellectual  progress  of  mankind. 
On  the  other  hand,  it  must  be  acknowledged  that,  be- 
fore the  xra  when  Bacon  appeared,  various  philoso- 


On  the  Metaphysical  Philosophy  of  Descartes. 

81.  RENE  DESCARTES  was  born  in  1596, 
of  an  ancient  family  in  Touraine.  Early  life  of 
An  inquisitive  curiosity  into  the  Descartes, 
nature  and  causes  of  all  he  saw  is  said  to 
have  distinguished  his  childhood,  and  this 
was  certainly  accompanied  by  an  uncom- 
mon facility  and  clearness  of  apprehen- 
sion.    At  a  very  early  age  he  entered  the, 
college  of  the  Jesuits  at  La  Heche,  and 
passed  through  their  entire  course  of  liter- 
ature and  philosophy.    It  was  now,  at  the 
age  of  sixteen,  as  he  tells  us,  that  he  be- 
gan to  reflect,  with  little  satisfaction,  on 
his  studies,  finding  his  mind  beset  with 
error,  and  obliged  to  confess  that  he  had 
learned  nothing  but  the  conviction  of  his 
ignorance.   Yet  he  knew  that  he  had  been 
educated  in  a  famous  school,  and  that  he 
was  not  deemed  behind  his  contempora- 
ries.    The    ethics,  the   logic,   even   the 
geometry  of  the  ancients,  did  not  fill  his 
mind  with  that  clear  stream  of  truth  for 
which  he  was  ever  thirsting.     On  leaving 
La  Fleche,  the  young  Descartes  mingled 
for  some  years  in  the  world,  and  served 
as  a  volunteer  both  under  Prince  Maurice 
and  in  the  Imperial  army.     Yet  during 
this  period  there  were  intervals  when  he 
withdrew  himself  wholly  from    society, 
and  devoted  his  leisure  to  mathematical 
science.  Some  gennes,  also,  of  his  peculiar 
philosophy  were  already  ripening  in  his 
mind. 

82.  Descartes  was  twenty-three  years 


phers  in  different  parts  of  Europe  had  struck  into 
the  right  path  ;  and  it  may  perhaps  be  doubted 
whether  any  one  important  rule  with  respect  to  the 
true  method  of  investigation  be  contained  in  his 
works,  of  which  no  hint  can  be  traced  in  those  of 
his  predecessors.  His  great  merit  lay  in  concen- 
trating their  feeble  and  scattered  lights  ;  fixing  the 
attention  of  philosophers  on  the  distinguishing  char- 
acteristics of  true  and  of  false  science,  by  a1  felici- 
ty of  illustration  peculiar  to  himself,  seconded  by 
the  commanding  powers  of  a  bold  and  figurative 
eloquence.  The  method  of  investigation  which  he 
recommended  had  been  previously  followed  in  every 
instance  in  which  any  solid  discovery  had  been 
made  with  respect  to  the  laws  of  nature  ;  but  it 
had  been  followed  accidentally  and  without  any 
regular  preconceived  design ;  and  it  was  reserved 
for  him  to  reduce  to  rule  and  method  what  others 
had  effected  either  fortuitously,  or  from  some  mo- 
mentary glimpse  of  the  truth.  These  remarks  are 
not  intended  to  detract  from  the  just  glory  of  Ba- 
con ;  for  they  apply  to  all  those,  without  exception, 
who  have  systematized  the  principles  of  any  of  the 
arts.  Indeed,  they  apply  less  forcibly  to  him  than 
to  any  other  philosopher  whose  studies  have  been 
directed  to  objects  analogous  to  his  ;  inasmuch  as 
we  know  of  no -art  of  which  the  rules  have  been 
reduced  successfully  into  a  didactic  form,  when  the 
art  itself  was  as  much  in  infancy  as  experimental 
philosophy  was  when  Bacon  wrote." — Account  of 
Life  and  Writings  of  Reid,  sect.  2. 


FROM  JGOO  TO  1650. 


91 


His  beginning  old  when,  passing  a  solitary 
to  philosophize,  winter  in  his  quarters  at  Neu- 
burg  on  the  Danube,  he  began  to  resolve 
in  his  mind  the  futility  of  all  existing  sys- 
tems of  philosophy,  and  the  discrepance 
of  opinions  among  the  generality  of  man- 
kind, which  rendered  it  probable  that  no 
one  had  yet  found  out  the  road  to  real 
science.  He  determined,  therefore,  to  set 
about  the  investigation  of  truth  for  him- 
self, erasing  from  his  mind  all  precon- 
ceived judgments,  as  having  been  hastily 
and  precariously  taken  up.  He  laid  down 
for  his  guidance  a  few  fundamental  rules 
of  logic,  such  as  to  admit  nothing  as  true 
which  he  did  not  clearly  perceive,  and  to 
proceed  from  the  simpler  notions  to  the 
more  complex,  taking  the  method  of  geom- 
eters, by  which  they  had  gone  so  much 
farther  than  others,  for  the  true  art  of 
reasoning.  Commencing,  therefore,  with 
the  mathematical  sciences,  and  observing 
that,  however  different  in  their  subjects, 
they  treat  properly  of  nothing  but  the  re- 
lations of  quantity,  he  fell,  almost  acci- 
dentally, as  his  words  seem  to  import,  on 
the  great  discovery  that  geometrical  curves 
may  be  expressed  algebraically.*  This 
gave  him  more  hope  of  success  in  applying 
his  method  to  other  parts  of  philosophy. 

83.  Nine   years  more  elapsed,  during 
He  retires   which  Descartes,  though  he  quit- 
to  Holland,  ted  military  service,  continued  to 
observe  mankind  in  various  parts  of  Eu- 
rope, still  keeping  his  heart  fixed  on  the 
great  aim  he  had  proposed  to  himself,  but, 
as  he  confesses,  without  having  framed 
the   scheme    of  any  philosophy  beyond 
those  of  his  contemporaries.     He  deemed 
his  time  of  life  immature  for  so  stupendous 
a  task.     But  at  the  age  of  thirty-three, 
with  little  notice  to  his  friends,  he  quitted 
Paris,  convinced  that  absolute  retirement 
was  indispensable   for  that  rigorous  in- 
vestigation of  first  principles  he  now  de- 
termined to  institute,  and  retired  into  Hol- 
land.    In  this  country  he  remained  eight 
years,  so  completely  aloof  from  the  dis- 
tractions of  the  world  that  he  concealed 
his  very  place  of  residence,  though  pre- 
serving an  intercourse  of  letters  with  many 
friends  in  France. 

84.  In  1637  he  broke  upon  the  world 
His  pubii-  with  a  volume  containing  the  Dis- 
cations.     course  upon  Method,  the  Dioptrics, 
the  Meteors,  and  the  Geometry.   It  is  only 
with  the  first  that  we  are  for  the  present 
concerned.!   In  tms  discourse,  the  most  in- 
teresting, perhaps,  of  Descartes'  writings, 
on  account  of  the  picture  of  his  life  and 
of  the  progress  of  his  studies  that  it  fur- 

*  CEuvres  de  Descartes,  par  Cousin,  Paris,  1824, 
vol.  i.,p.  143.  f  W,  p.  121-212. 


nishes,  we  find  the  Cartesian  metaphysics, 
which  do  not  consist  of  many  articles,  al- 
most as  fully  detailed  as  in  any  of  his  later 
works.  In  the  Meditationes  de  Prima 
Philosophia,  published  in  Latin,  1641,  these 
fundamental  principles  are  laid  down  again 
more  at  length.  He  invited  the  criticism 
of  philosophers  on  these  famous  Medita- 
tions. They  did  not  refuse  the  challenge  ; 
and  seven  sets  of  objections,  from  as  many 
different  quarters,  with  seven  replies  from 
Descartes  himself,  are  subjoined  to  the 
later  editions  of  the  Meditations.  The 
Principles  of  Philosophy,  published  in 
Latin  in  1644,  contains  what  may  be  reck- 
oned the  final  statement,  which  occupies 
most  of  the  first  book,  written  with  un- 
common conciseness  and  precision.  The 
beauty  of  philosophical  style  which  dis- 
tinguished Descartes  is  never  more  seen 
than  in  this  first  book  of  the  Principia,  the 
translation  of  which  was  revised  by  Cler- 
selier,  an  eminent  friend  of  the  author.  It 
is  a  contrast  at  once  to  the  elliptical  brev- 
ity of  Aristotle,  who  hints,  or  has  been 
supposed  to  hint,  the  most  important  posi- 
tion in  a  short  clause,  and  to  the  verbose, 
figurative  declamation  of  many  modern 
metaphysicians.  In  this  admirable  perspi- 
cuity Descartes  was  imitated  by  his  dis- 
ciples Arnaud  and  Malebranche,  especially 
the  former.  His  unfinished  posthumous 
treatise,  the  "  Inquiry  after  Truth  by  Nat- 
ural Reason,"  is  not  carried  farther  than 
a  partial  development  of  the  same  lead- 
ing principles  of  Cartesianism.  There  is, 
consequently,  a  great  deal  of  apparent 
repetition  in  the  works  of  Descartes,  but 
such  as,  on  attentive  consideration,  will 
show,  not  perhaps  much  real  variance, 
but  some  new  lights  that  had  occurred  to 
the  author  in  the  course  of  his  reflections.* 
R5.  In  pursuing  the  examination  of  the 
first  principles  of  knowledge,  HO  begins  by 
Descartes  perceived  not  only  doubting  ail. 
that  he  had  cause  to  doubt  of  the  various 
opinions  he  had  found  current  among  men, 
from  that  very  circumstance  of  their  va- 
riety, but  that  the  sources  of  all  that  he 
had  received  for  truth  themselves,  namely, 
the  senses,  had  afforded  him  no  indispu- 
table certainty.  He  began  to  recollect  how 
often  he  had  been  misled  by  appearances, 
which  had  at  first  sight  given  no  intimation 

*  A  work  has  lately  been  published,  Essais  Philo- 
sophiques,  suivis  de  la  Metaphysique,  de  Descartes 
resemblee  et  mise  en  ordre,  par  L.  A.  Gruyer,  4 
vols.,  Bruxelles,  1832.  In  the  fourth  volume  we 
find  the  metaphysical  passages  in  the  writings  ol 
Descartes,  including  his  correspondence,  arranged 
methodically  in  his  own  words,  but  with  the  omis 
sion  of  a  large  part  of  the  objections  to  the  Medita 
tions  and  of  his  replies  I  did  not,  however,  see  thu 
work  in  time  to  make  use  of  it. 


92 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


of  their  fallacy,  and  asked  himself  in  vain, 
by  what  infallible  test  he  could  discern 
the  reality  of  external  objects,  or,  at  least, 
their  conformity  to  his  idea  of  them.    The 
strong  impressions  made  in  sleep  led  him 
to  inquire  whether  all  he  saw  and  felt 
might  not  be  in  a  dream.   It  was  true  that 
there  seemed  to  be  some  notions  more 
elementary  than  the  rest,  such  as  exten- 
sion, figure,  duration,  which  could  not  be 
reckoned  fallacious ;  nor  could  he  avoid 
owning  that,  if  there  were  not  an  existing 
triangle  in  the  world,  the  angles  of  one 
conceived  by  the  mind,  though  it  were  in 
sleep,  must   appear  equal  to   two   right 
angles.     But   even   in   this  certitude   of 
demonstration  he  soon  found  something 
deficient ;  to  err  in  geometrical  reasoning 
is  not  impossible:  why  might  he  not  err 
in  tins'!   especially  in  a  train  of  conse- 
quences, the  particular  terms  of  which  are 
not  at  the  same  instant  present  to  the 
mind.     But,  above  all,  there  might  be  a 
superior  being,  powerful  enough  and  will- 
ing to  deceive  him.     It  was  no  kind  of 
answer  to  treat  this  as  improbable,  or  as 
an  arbitrary  hypothesis.   He  had  laid  down 
as  a  maxim  that  nothing  could  be  received 
as  truth  which  was  not  demonstrable ;  and 
in  one  place  rather  hyperbolically,  and,  in- 
deed, extravagantly  in  appearance,  says 
that   he   made   little   difference  between 
merely  probable  and  false  suppositions ; 
meaning  this,  however,  as  we  may  pre- 
sume, in  the  sense  of  geometers,  who 
would  say  the  same  thing. 

86.  But,  divesting  himself  thus  of  al 
His  first  belief  in  what  the  world  deemec 
step  in  most  unquestionable,  plunged  in 
knowledge.  an  abyss,  as  it  seemed  for  a  time 
he  soon  found  his  feet  on  a  rock,  from 
which  he  sprang  upward  to  an  uncloudec 
sun.  Doubting  all  things,  abandoning  al 
things,  he  came  to  the  question,  what  is  it 
that  doubts  and  denies1?  Something  it 
must  be ;  he  might  be  deceived  by  a  su- 
perior power,  but  it  was  he  that  was  de- 
ceived. He  felt  his  own  existence ;  the 
proof  of  it  was  that  he  did  feel  it ;  that 
he  had  affirmed,  that  he  now  doubted,  in  a 
word,  that  he  was  a  thinking  substance 
Cogito;  Ergo  sum — this  famous  en  thy  mem 
of  the  Cartesian  philosophy  veiled  in 
rather  formal  language  that  which  was  to 
him,  and  must  be  to  us  all,  the  eterna 
basis  of  conviction,  which  no  argumen 
can  strengthen,  which  no  sophistry  can 
impair,  the  consciousness  of  a  self  within 
a  percipient  indivisible  Ego.*  The  only 


*  This  word,  introduced  by  .the  Germans,  o 
originally,  perhaps,  by  the  old  Cartesians,  is  rathe 
awkward,  but  far  less  so  than  the  English  pronoui 
I,  which  is  also  equivocal  in  sound.  Stewart  ha 


roof  of  this  is  that  it  admits  of  no  prool ; 
hat  no  man  can  pretend  to  doubt  of  his 
wn  existence  with  sincerity,  or  to  express 
a  doubt  without  absurd  and  inconsistent 
anguage. 

87.  The  skepticism  of  Descartes,  it  ap- 
ears,  which  is  merely  provision-  His  mind 

al,  is  not  at  all  similar  to  that  of  not  skepti- 
he  Pyrrhonists,  though  some  of  cal- 
his  arguments  may  have  been  shafts  from 
heir  quiver.  Nor  did  he  make  use,  which 
s  somewhat  remarkable,  of  the  reason- 
ngs  afterward  employed  by  Berkeley 
against  the  material  world,  though  no  one 
more  frequently  distinguished  than  Des- 

artes  between  the  objective  reality,  as  it 
was  then  supposed  to  be,  of  ideas  in  the 
mind,  and  the  external  or  sensible  reality 
of  things.  Skepticism,  in  fact,  was  so  far 

rom  being  characteristic  of  his  disposi- 
tion, that  his  errors  sprang  chiefly  from 
;he  opposite  source,  little  as  he  was  aware 
of  it,  from  an  undue  positiveness  in  theo- 
ries which  he  could  not  demonstrate,  or 

ven  render  highly  probable.* 

88.  The  certainty  of  an  existing  Ego 
easily  led  him  to  that  of  the  op-  He  arrive8 
erations  of  the  mind,  called  af-  at  more 
terward  by  Locke  ideas  of  reflec-  certainty- 


adopted  it  as  the  lesser  evil,  and  it  seems  reason- 
able not  to  scruple  a  word  so  convenient,  if  not 
necessary,  to  express  the  unity  of  the  conscious 
principle.  If  it  had  been  employed  earlier,  I  am 
apt  to  think  that  some  great  metaphysical  extrava- 
gances would  have  been  avoided,  and  some  funda- 
mental truths  more  clearly  apprehended.  Fichte 
is  well  known  to  have  made  the  grand  division  of 
Ich  and  Nicht  Ich,  Ego  and  Non  Ego,  the  basis  of 
his  philosophy ;  in  other  words,  the  difference  of 
subjective  and  objective  reality. 

*  One  of  the  rules  Descartes  lays  down  in  his 
posthumous  art  of  logic,  is  that  we  ought  never  to 
busy  ourselves  except  about  objects  concerning 
which  our  understanding  appears  capable  of  acqui- 
ring an  unquestionable  and  certain  knowledge,  vol. 
xi.,  p.  204.  This  is,  at  least,  too  unlimited  a  propo- 
sition, and  would  exclude,  not  indeed  all  probabili- 
ty, but  all  inquiries  which  must,  by  necessity,  end 
in  nothing  more  than  probability.  Accordingly,  we 
find  in  the  next  pages  that  he  made  little  account 
of  any  sciences  but  arithmetic  and  geometry,  or 
such  others  as  equal  them  in  certainty.  "  From 
all  this,"  he  concludes,  "  we  may  infer,  not  that 
arithmetic  and  geometry  are  the  only  sciences 
which  we  must  learn,  but  that  he  who  seeks  the 
road  to  truth  should  not  trouble  himself  with  any 
object  of  which  he  cannot  have  as  certain  a  knowl- 
edge as  of  arithmetical  or  geometrical  demonstra- 
tions." It  is  unnecessary  to  observe  what  havoc 
this  would  make  with  investigations,  even  in 
physics,  of  the  highest  importance  to  mankind. 

Beattie,  in  the  essay  on  Truth,  part  ii.,  chap.  2, 
has  made  some  unfounded  criticisms  on  the  skepti- 
cism of  Descartes,  and  endeavours  to  turn  into 
ridicule  his  Cogito ;  ergo  sum.  Yet,  if  any  one 
should  deny  his  own  or  our  existence,  I  do  not  see 
how  we  could  refute  him,  were  he  worthy  of  refu- 
tation, but  by  some  such  language ;  and,  in  fact,  it 
is  what  Beattje  himself  says,  more  paraphrastically, 
in  answering  Hume. 


FROM  1600  TO  1650. 


93 


tion,  the  believing,  doubting,  willing,  lov- 
ing, fearing,  which  he  knew  by  conscious- 
ness, and,  indeed,  by  means  of  which 
alone  he  knew  that  the  Ego  existed.  He 
now  proceeded  a  step  farther ;  and,  reflect- 
ing on  the  simplest  truths  of  arithmetic 
and  geometry,  saw  that  it  was  as  impos- 
sible to  doubt  of  them  as  of  the  acts  of  his 
mind.  But  as  he  had  before  tried  to  doubt 
even  of  these,  on  the  hypothesis  that  he 
might  be  deceived  by  a  superior  intelligent 
i  power,  he  resolved  to  inquire  whether 
such  a  power  existed,  and  if  it  did.  whether 
it  could  be  a  deceiver.  The  affirmative  of 
the  former,  and  the  negative  of  the  latter 
question  Descartes  established  by  that 
extremely  subtle  reasoning  so  much  cele- 
brated in  the  seventeenth  century,  but 
which  has  less  frequently  been  deemed 
conclusive  in  later  times.  It  is,  at  least, 
that  which  no  man,  not  fitted  by  long 
practice  for  metaphysical  researches,  will 
pretend  to  embrace. 

89.  The  substance  of  his  argument  was 
His  proof    this.     He  found  within  himself 
of  a  Deiiy.  the  idea  of  a  perfect  Intelligence, 
eternal,  infinite,  necessary.     This   could 
not  come  from  himself,  nor  from  external 
things,  because  both  were  imperfect,  and 
there  could  be  no  more  in  the  effect  than 
there  is  in  the  cause.     And  this  idea  re- 
quiring a  cause,  it  could  have  none  but  an 
actual  being ;  not  a  possible  being,  which 
is  undistinguishable  from  mere  nonentity. 
If,  however,  this  should  be  denied,  he  in- 
quires whether  he,  with  this  idea  of  God, 
could  have  existed  by  any  other  cause  if 
there  were  no  God.     Not,  he  argues,  by 
himself;  for  if  he  were  the  author  of  his 
own  being,  he  would  have  given  himself 
every  perfection ;  in  a  word,  would  have 
been  God.     Not  by  his  parents,  for  the 
same  might  be  said  of  them,  and  so  forth, 
if  we  remount  to  a  series  of  productive 
beings.     Besides  this,  as  much  power  is 
required  to  preserve  as  to  create,  and  the 
continuance   of  existence   in   the    effect 
implies  the   continued  operation  of  the 
cause. 

90.  With  this  argument,  in  itself  suffi- 
Another     ciently  refined,  Descartes  blended 
proof  of  it.  another  still  more  distant  from 
common   apprehension.     Necessary   ex- 
istence is  involved  in  the  idea  of  God. 
All  other  beings  are  conceivable  in  their 
essence  as  things  possible ;  in  God  alone 
his  essence  and  existence  are  inseparable. 
Existence    is    necessary   to    perfection ; 
hence  a  perfect  being,  or  God,  cannot  be 
conceived  without  necessary   existence. 
Though  I  do  not  know  that  I  have  mis- 
represented Descartes  in  this  result  of  his 
very  subtle  argument,  it  is  difficult  not  to 


treat  it  as  a  sophism.  And  it  was  always 
objected  by  his  adversaries,  that  he  infer- 
red the  necessity  of  the  thing  from  the 
necessity  of  the  idea,  which  was  the  very 
point  in  question.  It  seems  impossible  to 
vindicate  many  of  his  expressions,  from 
which  he  never  receded  in  the  controver- 
sy to  which  his  meditations  gave  rise. 
But  the  long  habit  of  repeating  in  his  mind 
the  same  series  of  reasonings  gave  Des- 
cartes, as  it  will  always  do,  an  inward  as- 
surance of  their  certainty,  which  could 
not  be  weakened  by  any  objection.  The 
former  argument  for  the  being  of  God, 
whether  satisfactory  or  not,  is  to  be  dis- 
tinguished from  the  present.* 


*  "  From  what  is  said  already  of  the  ignorance 
we  are  in  of  the  essence  of  mind,  it  is  evident  that 
we  are  not  able  to  know  whether  any  mind  may  be 
necessarily  existent  by  a  necessity  &  priori  founded 
in  its  essence,  as  we  have  showed  time  and  space 
to  be.  Some  philosophers  think  that  such  a  neces- 
sity may  be  demonstrated  of  God  from  the  nature 
of  perfection.  For  God  being  infinitely,  that  is,  ab- 
solutely perfect,  they  say  he  must  needs  be  neces 
sarily  existent ;  because,  say  they,  necessary  exist- 
ence is  one  of  the  greatest  of  perfections.  But  I 
take  this  to  be  one  of  those  false  and  imaginary  ar- 
guments that  are  founded  in  the  abuse  of  certain 
terms ;  and  of  all  others,  this  word  perfection 
seems  to  have  suffered  most  this  way.  I  wish  I 
could  clearly  understand  what  these  philosophers 
mean  by  the  word  perfection,  when  they  thus  say 
that  necessity  of  existence  is  perfection.  Does  per 
fection  here  signify  the  same  thing  that  it  does 
when  we  say  that  God  is  infinitely  good,  omnipo- 
tent, omniscient  ?  Surely  perfections  are  properly 
asserted  of  the  several  powers  that  attend  the  es- 
sences of  things,  and  not  of  anything  else  but  in  a 
very  unnatural  and  improper  sense.  Perfection  is 
a  term  of  relation,  and  its  sense  implies  a  fitness  or 
agreement  to  some  certain  end,  and  most  properly 
to  some  power  in  the  thing  that  is  denominated  per- 
fect. The  term,  as  the  etymology  of  it  shows,  is 
taken  from  the  operation  of  artists.  When  an  art- 
ist proposes  to  himself  to  make  anything  that  shall 
be  serviceable  to  a  certain  effect,  his  work  is  called 
more  or  less  perfect,  according  as  it  agrees  more  or 
less  with  the  design  of  the  artist.  From  arts,  by  a 
similitude  of  sense,  this  word  has  been  introduced 
into  morality,  and  signifies  that  quality  of  an  agent 
by  which  it  is  able  to  act  agreeably  to  the-  end  its 
actions  tend  to.  The  metaphysicians,  who  reduce 
everything  to  transcendental  considerations,  have 
also  translated  this  term  into  their  science,  and  use 
it  to  signify  the  agreement  that  anything  has  with 
that  idea  which  it  is  required  that  thing  should  an- 
swer to.  This  perfection  therefore  belongs  to 
those  attributes  that  constitute  the  essence  of  a 
thing ;  and  that  being  is  properly  called  the  most 
perfect  which  has  all,  the  best,  and  each  the  com 
pletest  in  its  kind  of  those  attributes  which  can  be 
united  in  one  essence.  Perfection  therefore  be- 
longs to  the  essence  of  things,  and  not  properly  U 
their  existence ;  which  is  not  a  perfection  of  any 
thing,  no  attribute  of  it,  but  only  the  mere  constitu 
tion  of  it  in  rentm  natura.  Necessary  existence, 
therefore,  which  is  a  mode  of  existence,  is  not  4 
perfection,  it  being  no  attribute  of  the  thing,  no 
more  than  existence  is,  which  it  is  a  mode  of.  Bui 
it  may  be  said  that,  though  necessary  existence  i» 
not  a  perfection  in  itself,  yet  it  is  so  in  its  cause. 


HISTORY  OF  CHRISTIANITY. 


91.  From  the  idea  of  a  perfect  being 
iibdedoe-  Descartes  immediately  deduced 
lions  from  the  truth  of  his  belief  in  an  exter- 
tbu.  nai  World,  and  in  the  inferences 
of  his  reason.  For  to  deceive  his  crea- 
tures would  be  an  imperfection  in  God  ; 
but  God  is  perfect.  Whatever,  therefore, 
is  clearly  and  distinctly  apprehended  by 
our  reason,  must  be  true.  VV«  have  only 
to  be  on  our  guard  against  our  own  pre- 
cipitancy and  prejudice,  or  surrender  of 
our  reason  to  the  authority  of  others.  It 
is  not  by  our  understanding,  such  as  God 
gave  it  to  us,  that  we  are  deceived ;  but 
the  exercise  of  our  free-will,  a  high  pre- 
rogative of  our  nature,  is  often  so  incau- 
tious as  to  make  us  not  discern  truth  from 
falsehood,  and  affirm  or  deny,  by  a  volun- 
tary act,  that  which  we  do  not  distinctly 
apprehend.  The  properties  of  quantity, 
founded  on  our  ideas  of  extension  and 
number,  are  distinctly  perceived  by  our 
'minds,  and  hence  the  sciences  of  arithme- 
tic and  geometry  are  certainly  true.  But 
when  he  turns  his  thoughts  to  the  phe- 
nomena of  external  sensation,  Descartes 
cannot  wholly  extricate  himself  from  his 
original  concession,  the  basis  of  his  doubt, 
that  the  senses  do  sometimes  deceive  us. 
He  endeavours  to  reconcile  this  with  his 
own  theory,  which  had  built  the  certainty 
of  all  that  we  clearly  hold  certain  on  the 
perfect  veracity  of  God. 

92.  It  is  in  this  inquiry  that  he  reaches 
Primary  and  that  important  distinction  be- 
secomiary  tween  the  primary  and  second- 
tles-  ary  properties  of  matter,  the 
latter  being  modifications  of  the  former, 
relative  only  to  our  apprehension,  but  not 


upon  account  of  that  attribute  of  the  entity  from 
whence  it  flows;  that  that  attribute  must  of  all 
others  be  the  most  perfect  and  most  excellent 
which  necessary  existence  flows  from,  it  being  such 
as  cannot  be  conceived  otherwise  than  as  existing. 
But  what  'excellence,  what  perfection  is  there  in 
all  this  ?  Spnce  is  necessarily  existent  on  account 
of  extension,  which  cannot  be  conceived  otherwise 
than  as  existing.  But  what  perfection  is  there  in 
space  upon  this  account,  which  can  in  no  manner 
art  on  anything,  which  is  entirely  devoid  of  all  pow- 
er, wherein  I  have  showed  all  perfections  to  con- 
sist ?  Therefore  necessary  existence,  abstractedly 
considered,  is  no  perfection ;  and,  therefore,  the 
idea  of  infinite  perfeciion  does  not  include,  and  con- 
sequently not  prove,  God  to  be  necessarily  exist- 
ence [sic].  If  he  be  so,  it  is  on  account  of  those 
attributes  of  his  essence  which  we  have  no  knowl- 
edge of." 

1  have  made  this  extract  from  a  very  short  tract, 
called  Contemplatio  Philosophica,  by  Brook  Tay- 
lor, which  I  found  in  an  unpublished  memoir  of  his 
life  printed  bv  the  late  Sir  William  Young  in  1793. 
It  bespeaks  the  clear  and  acute  understanding  of 
this  celebrated  philosopher,  and  appears  to  me  an 
entire  refutation  of  the  scholastic  argument  of  Des- 
cartes ;  one  more  fit  for  the  Anselms  and  such  deal- 
ers \r.  words,  from  whom  it  came,  than  for  himself. 


inherent  in  things,  which,  without  being 
wholly  new,  contradicted  the  Aristotelian 
theories  of  the  schools;*  and  he  remarked 
that  we  are  never,  strictly  speakiug,  de- 
ceived by  our  senses,  but  by  the  infer- 
ences which  we  draw  from  them. 

93.  Such  is  nearly  the  substance,  ex- 
clusive of  a  great  variety  of  more  or  less 
episodical  theories,  of  the  three  mataphys- 
ical  works  of  Descartes,  the  history  of 
the  soul's  progress  from  opinion  to  doubt, 
and  from  doubt  to  certainty.     Few  would 
dispute,  at  the  present  day,  that  he  has  de- 
stroyed too  much  of  his  foundations  to 
render  his  superstructure  stable  ;  and  to 
readers  averse  from  metaphysical  reflec- 
tion, he  must  seem  little  else  than  an  idle 
theorist,    weaving  cobwebs   for  pastime 
which  common  sense  sweeps  away.     It 
is  fair,  however,  to  observe,  that  no  one 
was  more  careful  than  Descartes  to  guard 
against  any  practical  skepticism  in  the  af- 
fairs of  life.     He  even  goes  so  far  as  to 
maintain,  that  a  man,  having  adopted  any 
practical  opinion  on  such  grounds  as  seem 
probable,  should  pursue  it  with  as  much 
steadiness  as  if  it  were  founded  on  de- 
monstration ;    observing,   however,  as   a 
general  rule,  to  choose  the  most  moder- 
ate opinions  among  those  which  he  should 
find  current  in  his  own  country  f 

94.  The  objections  adduced  against  the 
Meditations  are  in  a  series  of  objections 
seven.     The  first  are  by  a  the-  made  to  his 
ologian  named  Caterus,  the  sec-  Wedltatlolls- 
ond  by  Mersenne,  the  third  by  Hobbes, 
the  fourth  by  Arnauld,  the  fifth  by  Gas- 
sendi,  the  sixth  by  some  anonymous  wri- 
ters, the  seventh  by  a  Jesuit  of  the  name 
of  Bourdin.     To  all  of  these  Descartes 


*  See  Stewart's  First  Dissertation  on  the  Prog- 
ress of  Philosophy.  Thi."  writer  has  justly  observ- 
ed, that  many  persons  conceive  colour  to  be  inherent 
in  the  object,  so  that  the  censure  of  Reid  on  Des- 
cartes and  his  followers,  as  having  pretended  to  dis- 
cover what  no  one  doubted,  is  at  least  unreasonable 
in  this  respect.  A  late  writer  has  gone  so  far  as  to 
say  :  "  Nothing  at  first  can  seem  a  more  rational, 
obvious,  and  incontrovertible  conclusion,  than  that 
the  colour  of  a  body  is  an  inherent  quality,  like  its 
weight,  hardness,  &c. ;  and  that  to  see  the  object, 
and  to  see  it  of  its  own  colour,  when  nothing  inter- 
venes between  our  eyes  and  it,  are  one  and  the  same 
thing.  Yet  this  is  only  a  prejudice,"  &c. — Her- 
schel's  Discourse  on  Nat.  Philos.,  p.  82.  I  almost 
even  suspect  that  the  notion  of  sounds  and  smells 
being  secondary  or  merely  sensible  qualities,  is  not 
distinct  in  all  men's  minds.  But  after  we  are  be- 
come familiar  with  correct  ideas,  it  is  not  easy  to 
revive  prejudices  in  our  imagination.  In  the  same 
page  of  Stewart's  Dissertation,  he  has  been  led,  by 
dislike  of  the  University  of  Oxford,  to  misconceive, 
in  an  extraordinary  manner,  a  passage  of  Addison 
in  the  Guardian,  which  is  evidently  a  sportive  ridi- 
cule of  the  Cartesian  theory,  and  is  absolutely  in 
applicable  to  the  Aristotelian. 

t  Vol.  i.,  p.  147.     Vol.  iii.,  p.  04. 


FROM  1600  TO  1650. 


95 


leplied  with  spirit  and  acuteness.  By  far 
the  most  important  controversy  was  with 
Gassendi,  whose  objections  were  stated 
more  briefly,  and,  I  think,  with  less  skill, 
by  Hobbes.  It  was  the  first  trumpet  in 
the  new  philosophy  of  an  ancient  war  be- 
tween the  sensual  and  ideal  schools  of 
pyschology.  Descartes  had  revived,  and 
placed  in  a  clear  light,  the  doctrine  of  mind, 
as  not  absolutely  dependant  upon  the  sen- 
ses, nor  of  the  same  nature  as  their  ob- 
jects. Stewart  does  not  acknowledge 
him  as  the  first  teacher  of  the  soul's  im- 
materiality. "  That  many  of  the  school- 
men, and  that  the  wisest  of  the  ancient 
philosophers,  when  they  described  the 
mind  as  a  spirit,  or  as  a  spark  of  celestial 
fire,  employed  these  expressions,  not  with 
any  intention  to  materialize  its  essence, 
but  merely  from  want  of  more  unexcep- 
tionable language,  might  be  shown  with 
demonstrable  evidence,  if  this  were  the 
proper  place  for  entering  into  the  discus- 
sion."* But  though  it  cannot  be  said  that 
Descartes  was  absolutely  the  first  who 
maintained  the  strict  immateriality  of  the 
soul,  it  is  manifest  to  any  one  who  has 
read  his  correspondence,  that  the  tenet, 
instead  of  being  general,  as  we  are  apt  to 
presume,  was  by  no  means  in  accordance 
with  the  common  opinion  of  his  age. 
The  fathers,  with  the  exception,  perhaps 
the  single  one,  of  Augustin,  had  taught  the 
corporeity  of  the  thinking  substance.  Ar- 
nauld  seems  to  consider  the  doctrine  of 
Descartes  as  almost  a  novelty  in  modern 
times.  "  What  you  have  written  con- 
cerning the  distinction  between  the  soul 
and  body  appears  to  me  very  clear,  very 
evident,  and  quite  divine  ;  and,  as  nothing 
is  older  than  truth,  I  have  had  singular 
pleasure  to  see  that  almost  the  same 
things  have  formerly  been  very  perspicu- 
ously and  agreeably  handled  by  St.  Au- 
gustin in  all  his  tenth  book  on  the  Trinity, 
but  chiefly  in  the  tenth  chapter."!  But 
Arnauld  himself,  in  his  objections  to  the 
Meditations,  had  put  it  as  at  least  ques- 
tionable, whether  that  which  thinks  is  not 
something  extended,  which,  besides  th,e 
usual  properties  of  extended  substances, 
such  as  mobility  and  figure,  has  also  this 
particular  virtue  and  power  of  thinking.! 
The  reply  of  Descartes  removed  the  diffi- 
culties of  the  illustrious  Jansenist,  who 
became  an  ardent  and  almost  complete 
disciple  of  the  new  philosophy.  In  a 
placard  against  the  Cartesian  philosophy, 
printed  in  1647,  which  seems  to  have 
come  from  Revius,  professor  of  theology 


*  Dissertation,  ubi  suprik. 
t  Descartes,  x.,  138. 


t  Id.,  ii.,  14. 


at  Leyden,  it  is  said :  "  As  far  as  regards 
the  nature  of  things,  nothing  seems  to  hin- 
der but  that  the  soul  may  be  either  a  sub- 
stance, or  a  mode  of  corporeal  substance.'1* 
And  More,  who  had  carried  on  a  meta- 
physical correspondence  with  Descartes, 
whom  he  professed  to  admire,  at  least  at 
that  time,  above  all  philosophers  that  had 
ever  existed,  without  exception  of  his  fa- 
vourite Plato,  extols  him  after  his  death  in 
a  letter  to  Clerselier,  as  having  best  es- 
tablished the  foundations  of  religion.  "  For 
the  Peripatetics,"  he  says,  "  pretend  that 
there  are  certain  substantial  forms  ema- 
nating from  matter,  and  so  united  to  it 
that  they  cannot  exist  without  it,  to  which 
these  philosophers  refer  the  souls  of  al- 
most all  living  beings,  even  those  to  which 
they  allow  sensation  and  thought ;  while 
the  Epicureans,  on  the  other  hand,  who 
laugh  at  substantial  forms,  ascribe  thought 
to  matter  itself;  so  that  it  is  M.  Descartes 
alone,  of  all  philosophers,twho  has  at  once 
banished  from  philosophy  all  these  sub- 
stantial forms  or  souls  derived  from  mat- 
ter, and  absolutely  divested  matter  itself 
of  the  faculty  of  feeling  and  thinking."! 

95.  It  must  be  owned  that  the  firm  be- 
lief of  Descartes  in  the  immate-  Theory  or 
riality  of  the  Ego  or  thinking  memory  and 
principle,  was  accompanied  with  iraasmauon. 
what,  in  later;  times,  would  have  been 
deemed  rather  too  great  concessions  to 
the  materialists.  He  held  the  imagina- 
tion and  the  memory  to  be  portions  of  the 
brain,  wherein  the  images  of  our  sensa- 
tions are  bodily  received ;  and  even  as- 
signed such  a  motive  force  to  the  imagi- 
nation as  to  produce  those  involuntary 
actions  which  we  often  perform,  and  all 
the  movements  of  brutes.  "  This  ex- 


*  Vol.  x  ,  p.  73. 

•f  Vol.-  x.,  p.  386.  Even  More  seems  to  have 
been  perplexed  at  one  time  by  the  difficulty  of  ac- 
counting for  the  knowledge  and  sentiment  of  dis- 
imbodied  souls,  and  almost  inclined  to  admit  their 
corporeity.  "  J'aimerois  mieux  dire  avec  les  Pla- 
toniciens,  les  anciens  pe.res,  et  presque  tous  les 
philosophes,  que  les  ames  humaines,  tous  les  g6nies 
tant  bons  que  mauvais,  sont  corporels,  et  que  par 
consequent  ils  out  un  sentiment  i<$el,  c'est  a  dire, 
qui  leur  vient  du  corps  dont  ils  sont  revetus."  This 
is  in  a  letter  to  Descartes  in  1649,  which  I  have  not 
read  in  Latin  (vol.  x  ,  p.  249).  I  do  not  quite  un- 
derstand whether  he  meant  only  that  the  soul, 
when  separated  from  the  gross  body,  is  invested 
with  a  substantial  clothing,  or  that  there  is  what 
we  ma^  call  an  interior  body,  a  supposed  monad,  to 
which  the  thinking  principle  is  indissolubly  united. 
This  is  what  all  materialists  mean,  who  have  any 
clear  notions  whatever ;  it  is  a  possible,  perhaps  a 
plausible,  perhaps  even  a  highly  probable  hypothe- 
sis, but  one  which  will  rrot  prove  their  theory. 
The  former  seems  almost  an  indispensable  suppo 
sition,  if  we  admit  sensibility  to  phenomena  at  al) 
in  the  soul  after  dea'h  ;  but  it  is  rather,  perhaps,  a 
theological  than  a  r..etaphysical  speculation. 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


plains  how  all  the  motions  of  all  animals 
arise,  though  we  grant  them  no  knowledge 
of  things,  but  only  an  imagination  entirely  j 
corporeal,  and  how  all  those  operations  j 
which  do  not  require  the  concurrence  of 
reason  are  produced  in  us."  But  the 
whole  of  his  notions  as  to  the  connexion 
of  the  soul  and  body,  and,  indeed,  all  his 
physiological  theories,  of  which  he  was 
most  enamoured,  do  little  credit  to  the 
Cartesian  philosophy.  They  are  among 
those  portions  of  his  creed  which  have 
lain  most  open  to  ridicule,  and  which  it 
would  be  useless  for  us  to  detail.  He 
seems  to  have  expected  more  advantage 
to  pyschology  from  anatomical  research- 
es than,  in  that  state  of  the  science,  or 
even,  probably,  in  any  future  state  of  it, 
anatomy  could  afford.  When  asked  once 
where  was  his  library,  he  replied,  showing 
a  calf  he  was  dissecting,  This  is  my  libra- 
ry.* His  treatise  on  the  passions,  a  sub- 
ject so  important  in  the  philosophy  of  the 
human  mind,  is  made  up  of  crude  hypothe- 
ses, or,  at  best,  irrelevant  observations  on 
their  physical  causes  and  concomitants. 

96.  It  may  be  considered  as  a  part  of 
seat  of  the  tnis  syncretism,  as  we  may  call 
BOU!  in  the  it,  of  the  material  and  immate- 
pineai  gland.  rjai  hypotheses,  that  Descartes 
fixed  the  seat  of  the  soul  in  the  conarion, 
or  pineal  gland,  which  he  selected  as  the 
only  part  of  the  brain  which  is  not  double. 
By  some  mutual  communication,  which  he 
did  not  profess  to  explain,  though  later 
metaphysicians  have  attempted  to  do  so, 
the  unextended  intelligence,  thus  confined 
to  a  certain  spot,  receives  the  sensations 
which  are  immediately  produced  through 
impressions  on  the  substance  of  the  brain. 
If  he  did  not  solve  the  problem,  be  it  re- 
membered that  the  problem  has  never 
since  been  solved.  It  was  objected  by  a 
nameless  correspondent,  who  signs  him- 
self Hyperaspistes,  that  the  soul,  being 
incorporeal,  could  not  leave,  by  its  opera- 
tions, a  trace  on  the  brain,  which  his  the- 
ory seemed  to  imply.  Descartes  answer- 
ed, in  rather  a  remarkable  passage,  that 
as  to  things  purely  intellectual,  we  do  not, 
properly  speaking,  remember  them  at  all, 
as  they  are  equally  original  thoughts  ev- 
ery time  they  present  themselves  to  the 
mind,  except  that  they  are  habitually  join- 
ed, as  it  were,  and  associated  with  certain 
names,  which  being  bodily,  make  us  re- 
member them.f 


*  Descartes  was  very  fond  of  dissection  :  C'est 
un  exercise  qQ  je  me  suis  souvent  occupe  depuis 
onze  ans,  et  je  crois  qu'il  n'y  a  guere  de  m^decins 
qui  y  ait  regard^  de  si  pres  que  moi. — Vol.  viii.,  p. 
100  ;  also  p  174  and  180. 

+  This  passage  I  must  give  in  French,  finding  it 


07.  If  the  orthodox  of  the  age  were  not 
yet  prepared  for  a  doctrine  whicli  _ 

•  j         f  •  ,  Gassendi's 

seemed  so  favourable,  at  least  to  attacks  cm 
natural  religion,  as  the  immateri-  theMedUa- 
ality  of  the  soul,  it  may  be  readi-  tlo"s> 
ly  supposed  that  Gassendi,  like  Hobbes, 
had  imbibed  too  much  of  the  Epicurean 
theory  to  acquiesce  in  the  spiritualizing 
principles  of  his  adversary.  In  a  sportive 
style  he  addresses  him,  O  animal  and 
Descartes,  replying  more  angrily,  retorts 
upon  him  the  name  O  euro  !  which  he  fre- 
quently repeats.  Though  we  may  lament 
such  unhappy  efforts  at  wit  in  these  great 
men,  the  names  do  not  ill  represent  the 
spiritual  and  carnal  philosophies ;  the 
school  that  produced  Leibnitz,  Kant,  and 
Stewart,  contrasted  with  that  of  Hobbes, 
Condillac,  and  Cabanis. 

98.  It  was  a  matter  of  course  that  the 
vulnerable  passages  of  the  six  superiority 
Meditations  would  not  escape  of  Descartes, 
the  spear  of  so  skilful  an  antagonist  as 
Gassendi.  But  many  of  his  objections 
appear  to  be  little  more  than  cavils ;  and, 
upon  the  whole,  Descartes  leaves  me  with 
the  impression  of  his  great  superiority  in 
metaphysical  acuteness.  It  was,  indeed, 
impossible  that  men  should  agree  who 
persisted  in  using  a  different  definition  of 
the  important  word  idea;  and  the  same 
source  of  interminable  controversy  has 
flowed  ever  since  for  their  disciples. 
Gassendi,  adopting  the  scholastic  maxim, 
"  Nothing  is  in  the  understanding  which 
has  not  been  in  the  sense,"  carried  it  so 
much  farther  than  those  from  whom  it 
came,  that  he  denied  anything  to  be  an 
idea  but  what  was  imagined  by  the  mind. 
Descartes  repeatedly  desired  both  him 
and  Hobbes,  whose  philosophy  Avas  built 
on  the  same  notion,  to  remark  that  he 
meant  by  idea  whatever  can  be  conceived 
by  the  understanding,  though  not  capable 
of  being  represented  by  the  imagination.* 

very  obscure,  and  having  translated  more  according 
to  what  1  guess  than  literally.  Mais  pour  ce  qui 
est  des  choses  purement  intellectuelles,  a  propre- 
ment  parler  on  n'en  a  aucun  ressouvenir ;  et  la  pre- 
miere fois  qu'elles  se  pvesentent  a  1'esprit,  on  lea 
pense  aussi  bien  que  la  seconde,  si  ce  n'est  peut-e'tre 
qu'elles  ont  coutume  d'etre  jointes  et  comme  at- 
tachees  a  certains  noms  qui,  etant  corporels,  font 
que  nous  nous  ressouvenons  aussi  d'elles. — VoL 
viii.,  p.  271. 

*  Par  le  nom  d'idee,  il  veut  seulement  qu'on  en- 
tende  ici  les  images  des  choses  materielles  depein 
tes  en  la  fantaisie  corporelle ;  et  cela  etant  suppose, 
il  lui  est  ais6  de  montrer  qu'pn  ne  peut  avoir  propre 
et  veritable  idee  de  Dieu  ni  d'un  ange  ;  mais  j'ai 
souvent  averti,  et  principalement  en  celui  la  me'me, 
que  je  prends  le  nom  d'idee  pour  tout  ce  qui  esl 
congu  immediatement  par  1'esprit ;  en  sorte  que, 
lorsque  je  veux  et  que  je  crains,  parceque  je  con- 
cois  en  meme  temps  que  je  veux  et  que  je  crains, 
ce  vouloir  et  cette  crainte  sont  mis  par  moi  en  nom- 


FROM  1600  TO  1650. 


97 


Thus  we  imagine  a  triangle,  but  we  can 
only  conceive  a  figure  of  a  thousand  sides  ; 
we  know  its  existence,  and  can  reason 
about  its  properties,  but  we  have  no  image 
whatever  in  the  mind  by  which  we  can 
distinguish  such  a  polygon  from  one  of  a 
smaller  or  .greater  number  of  sides. 
Hobbes,  in  answer  to  this,  threw  out  a 
paradox,  which  he  has  not,  at  least  in  so 
unlimited  a  manner,  repeated,  that  by  rea- 
son, that  is,  by  the  process  of  reasoning, 
we  can  infer  nothing  as  to  the  nature  of 
things,  but  only  as  to  their  names.*  It  is 
singular  that  a  man,  conversant  at  least 
with  the  elements  of  geometry,  should 
have  fallen  into  this  error.  For  it  does 
not  appear  that  lie  meant  to  speak  -only 
of  natural  substances,  as  to  which  his  lan- 
guage might  seem  to  be  a  bad  expression 
of  what  was  afterward  clearly  shown  by 
Locke.  That  the  understanding  can  con- 
ceive and  reason  upon  that  which  the  im- 
agination cannot  delineate,  is  evident  not 
only  from  Descartes'  instance  of  a  poly- 

bre  des  idces  ;  et  je  me  suis  servi  de  ce  mot,  parce- 
tju'il  etoit  rieja  comrnunetnent  rec.u  par  les  philoso- 
phes  pour  signifier  les  formes  des  conceptions  de 
rentendernent  divin,  encore  que  nous  ne  reconnois- 
sions  en  Dieu  aucune  fantaisie  on  imagination  cor- 
porelle,  et  je  n'en  savois  point  de  plus  propre.  Et 
je  pense  avoir  assez  exphque  1'idee  de  Dieu  pour 
ceux  qni  veulent  conc.evoir  les  sens  que  je  donne  a 
mes  paroles  ;  mais  pour  ceux  qui  s'attachent  a  les 
entendre  autrement  que  je  ne  fais,  je  ne  le  pourrais 
iamais  ass<-z.—  Vol.  i.,  p.  404.  This  is  in  answer  to 
Hobbes  ;  the  objections  of  Hobbes,  and  Descartes' 
replies,  turn  very  much  on  this  primary  difference 
between  ideas  as  images,  which  alone  our  country- 
man could  understand,  and  ideas  as  intellections, 
conceptions,  vtovneva,  incapable  of  being  imagined, 
but  not  less  certainly  known  and  reasoned  upon. 
The  French  is  a  translation,  but  made  by  Clerselier 
under  the  eye  of  Descartes,  so  that  it  may  be  quo 
tod  as  an  original. 

*  Que  dirons  nous  maintenant  si  peu-tetre  le  rai 
sonnement  n'est  rien  autre  chose  qu'un  assemblage 
et  un  enchainemeut  de  noms  par  ce  mot  est  ?  D'ou 
il  s'ensuivroit  que  par  la  raison  nous  ne  concluons 
rien  de  tout  touchant  la  nature  des  choses,  mais 
seulemont  touchant  leurs  appellations,  c'est  a  dire 
que  par  elle  nous  voyons  simplernent  si  nous  as- 
semblons  bien  on  mal  les  noms  des  choses  selon 
les  conventions  que  nous  avons  faites  a  notre  fan- 
taisie  touchant  leurs  significations,  p.  476.  Descar 
tes  merely  answered  :  L'assemblage  qui  se  fail 
dans  le  raisonnement  n'est  pas  celui  des  noms, 
mais  bien  celui  des  choses  signifiees  par  les  noms  ; 
et  je.in'  etonne  que  le  contraire  puisse  venir  en  1'es- 
prit  de  personne.  Descartes  treated  Hobbes,  whom 
lie  did  not  esteem,  with  less  attention  than  his  other 
correspondents.  Hobbes  could  not  understand  what 
have  been  called  ideas  of  reflection,  such  as  fear, 
and  thought  it  was1  nothing  more  than  the  idea  of 
the  object  feared.  "  For  what  else  is  the  fear  of  a 
lion,"  he  says,  "  than  the  idea  of  this  lion,  and  the 
effect  Which  it  produces  in  the  heart,  which  leads 
us  to  run  away  ?  But  this  running  is  not  a  thought ; 
so  that  nothing  of  thought  exists  in  fear  but  the 
idea  of  the  object."  Descartes  only  replied,  "  it  is 
self-evident  that  it  is  not  the  same  thing  to  see  a 
lion  and  fear  him  that  it  is  to  see  him  only,"  p.  483. 
VOL.  II.— N 


gon,  but  more  strikingly  by  the  whole 
theory  of  infinites,  which  are  certainly 
somewhat  more  than  bare  words,  what- 
ever assistance  words  may  give  us  in  ex- 
plaining them  to  others  or  to  ourselves.* 
99.  Dugald  Stewart  has  justly  dwelt  on 
the  signal  service  rendered  by  Stevmt,g 
Descartes  to  psychological  phi-  remarks  on 
losophy,  by  turning  the  mental  ^cartes, 
vision  inward  upon  itself,  and  accustoming 
us  to  watch  the  operations  of  our  intellect, 
which,  though  employed  upon  ideas  ob- 
tained through  the  senses,  are  as  distin- 
guishable from  them  as  the  workman  from 
his  work.  He  has  given,  indeed,  to  Des- 
cartes a  very  proud  title,  Father  of  the 
experimental  philosophy  of  the  human 
mind,  as  if  he  were  to  man  what  Bacon 
was  to  nature.f  By  patient  observation 
of  what  passed  within  him  ;  by  holding  his 
soul  as  it  were  an  object  in  a  microscope, 

*  1  suspect,  from  what  I  have  since  read,  that 
Hobbes  had  a  different,  and  what  seems  to  me  a 
very  erroneous  view  of  infinite,  or  infinitesimal 
quantities  in  geometry.  For  lie  answers  the  old 
sophism  of  Zrno,  Qnicquid  dividi  potest  in  partes 
infinitns  est  infinitum,  in  a  manner  which  does  not 
meet  the  real  truth  of  the  case  :  Dividi  posse  in 
partes  infinites  nihil  aliud  est  quam  dividi  posse  in 
partes  quotcgnque  quis  velit. — Logica  sive  Computa- 
tio,  c.  5,  p.  38  (edit.  1667).  ' 

t  Dissertation  on  Progress  of  Philosophy.  The 
word  experiment  must  be  taken  in  the  sense  of  ob- 
servation. Stewart  very  early  took  up  his  admira- 
tion for  Descartes.  "  He  was  the  first  philosopher 
who  stated  in  a  clear  and  satisfactory  manner  the 
distinction  between  mind  and  matter,  and  who 
pointed  out  the  proper  plan  for  studying  the  intel- 
lectual philosophy.  It  is  chiefly  in  consequence  of 
his  precise  ideas  with  respect  to  this  distinction 
that  we  may  remark  in  all  his  metaphysical  wri- 
tings a  perspicuity  which  is  not  observable  in  those 
of  any  of  his  predecessors."— Elem.  of  Philos.  of 
Human  Mind,  vol.  i.  (published  in  1792),  note  A. 
"  When  Descartes,"  he  says  in  the  dissertation  be- 
fore quoted,  ''established  it  as  a  general  principle 
that  nothing  conceivable  by  the  power  of  imagination 
could  throw  any  light  on  the  operations  of  thought,  a 
principle  which  I  consider  as  exclusively  his  own, 
lie  hii'.l  the  foundations  of  the  experimental  philos- 
ophy of  the  human  mind.  That  the  same  truth 
had  been  previously  perceived  more  or  less  dis- 
tinctly by  Bacon  and  others,  appears  probable  from 
the  general  complexion  of  their  speculations;  but 
which  of  them  has  expressed  it  with  equal  precision, 
or  laid  it  down  as  a  fundamental  maxim  in  their 
loeic  ?"  Tho  words  whicli  1  have  put  in  italics  seem 
too  vaguely  and  not  very  clearly  expressed,  nor  am 
I  aware  that  they  are  borne  out  in  their  literal  sense 
by  any  position  of  Descartes;  nor  do  I  apprehend 
the  allusion  to  Bacon.  But  it  is  certain  that  Des- 
cartes, and  still  more  his  disciples  Arnaud  and 
Malebranche,  take  better  care  to  distinguish  what 
can  be  imagined  from  what  can  be  conceived  or  un- 
derstood, than  any  of  the  school  of  Gassendi  in  this 
or  other  countries.  One  of  the  great  merits  ot 
Descartes  as  a  metaphysical  writer,  not  unconnect 
ed  with  this,  is  that  he  is  generally  careful  to  avoid 
figurative  language  in  speaking  of  rneiital  opera- 
tions, wherein  he  has  much  the  advantage  over 
Locke. 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


which  is  the  only  process  of  a  good  meta- 
physician, he  became  habituated  to  throw 
away  those  integuments  of  sense  which 
hide  us  from  ourselves.  Stewart  has  cen- 
sured him  for  the  paradox,  as  he  calls  it, 
that  the  essence  of  mind  consists  in  think- 
ing, and  that  of  matter  in  extension.  That 
the  act  of  thinking  is  as  inseparable  from 
the  mind  vis  extension  is  from  matter, 
cannot  indeed  be  proved;  since,  as  our 
thoughts  are  successive,  it  is  not  incon- 
ceivable that  there  may  be  intervals  of 
duration  between  them  ;  but  it  can  hardly 
be  reckoned  a  paradox.  But  whoever 
should  be  led  by  the  word  essence  to  sup- 
pose that  Descartes  confounded  the  per- 
cipient thinking  substance,  the  Ego,  upon 
whose  bosom,  like  that  of  the  ocean,  the 
waves  of  perception  are  raised  by  every 
breeze  of  sense,  with  the  perception  itself, 
or  even,  what  is  scarcely  more  tenable, 
with  the  reflective  action  or  thought ;  that 
he  anticipated  this  strange  paradox  of 
Hume  in  his  earliest  work,  from  which  he 
silently  withdrew  in  his  Essays,  would 
not  only  do  great  injustice  to  one  6f  the 
acutest  understandings  that  ever  came  to 
the  subject,  but  overlook  several  clear  as- 
sertions of  the  distinction,  especially  in 
his  answer  to  Hobbes.  "The  thought," 
he  says,  "  differs  from  that  which  thinks, 
as  the  mode  from  the  substance."*  And 
Stewart  has  in  his  earliest  work  justly 
corrected  Reid  in  this  point  as  to  the 
Cartesian  doctrine. f 

100.  Several  singular  positions,  which 
Paradoxes  of  have  led  to  an  undue  deprecia- 
Descanes  tion  of  Descartes  in  general  as 
a  philosopher,  occur  in  his  metaphysical 
writings.  Such  was  his  denial  of  thought, 
and,  as  is  commonly  said,  sensation  to. 
brutes,  which  he  seems  to  have  founded 
on  the  mechanism  of  the  bodily  organs ;  a 
cause  sufficient,  in  his  opinion,  to  explain 
all  the  phenomena  of  the  motions  of  ani«- 
mals,  and  to  obviate  the  difficulty  of  as- 
signing to  them  immaterial  souls  ;|  his 

*  Vol.  i.,  p.  470.  Arnaud  objected,  in  a  letter  to 
Descartes,  Comment  se  pent  il  faire  que  la  pensee 
constitue  I'essence  de  Tesprit^puisque  1'esprit  est 
une  substance,  et  qne  la  pensee  seinble  n'en  etre 
qu'un  mode?  Descartes  replied  that  thought  in 
general,  la  pensee,  ou  la  nature  qui  pense,  in  which 
he  placed  the  essence  of  soul,  was  very  different 
from  such  or  such  particular  acts  of  thinking,  vol. 
vi.,  p.  153,  100. 

t  Philosophy  of  Human  Mind,  vol.  i.,  note  A. 
See  the  Principia,  §  63. 

}  It  is  a  common  opinion  that  Descartes  denied 
all  life  and  sensibility  to  brutes.  But  this  seems 
not  so  clear.  11  faut  remarquer,  he  says  in  a  letter 
to  More,  where  he  has  been  arguing  against  the  ex- 
istence in  brutes  of  any  thinking  principle,  que  je 
parle  de  la  pensee.  non  de  la  vie,  on  du  sentiment ; 
car  je  n'ote  la  vie  a  aucun  animal,  ne  la  faisant  con- 
sister  que  dans  la  seule  chaleur  du  coeur.  Je  ne 


rejection  of  final  causes  in  the  explanation 
of  nature,  as  far  above  our  comprehension, 
and  unnecessary  to  those  who  had  the  in- 
ternal proof  of  "God's  existence;  his  still 
more  paradoxical  tenet,  that  the  truth  of 
geometrical  theorems,  and  every  other 
axiom  of  intuitive  certainty,  depended 
upon  the  will  of  God;  a  notion  that 
seems  to  be  a  relic  of  his  original  skepti- 
cism, but  which  he  pertinaciously  defends 
throughout  his  letters.*  From  remarkable 


leur  refuse  pas  me'me  le  sentiment  autant  qu'il  de- 
pend des  organes  du  corps. — Vol.  x.,  p.  208.  Jn  a 
longer  passage,  if  he  docs  not  express  himself  very 
clearly,  he  admits  passions  in  brutes,  and  it  seems 
impossible  that  he  could  have  ascribed  passion?  to 
what  has  no  sensation.  Much  of  what  he  here  says 
is  very  good.  Bien  que  Montaigne  et  Charron  aient 
du,  qu'il  y  a  plus  de  difference  d'homme  a  homme 
que  d'homme  a  bete,  il  n'est  toutefois  jamais  trouve 
aucune  be'ie  si  parfaite,  qu'elle  ait  use  de  quelqne 
signe  pour  faire  entendre  a  d'autres  animaux  quel- 
que  chose  que  n'eut  point  de  rapport  a  ses  passions ; 
et  il  n'y  a  point  d'homme  si  irnparfait  qu'il  n'en  use ; 
en  sortequeceux  qui  sontsourdset  muetsmventent 
des  signes  particuliers  par  lesquels  ils  expriment 
leur  pensees;  ce  qui  me  semble  un  tres  fort  argu- 
ment pour  prouver  que  ce  qui  fait  que  les  be'tes  ne 
parlcnt  point  comme  nous,  est  qu'elles  n'ont  aucune 
pensee,  et  non  point  que  les  organes  leur  manquent. 
Et  on  ne  peut  dire  qu'elles  parlent  entre  elles,  mais 
que  nous  ne  les  entendons  pas;  car  contme les  chiens 
et  rjuelqties  autrts  animaux  nous  exprimtnt  leurs  pas- 
sions, ils  nous  exprimeroient  aussi  bien  leurs  pen- 
sees  s'ils  en  avoient.  Je  sais  bien  que  les  be'tes 
font  beaucoup  de  choses  mieux  qne  nous,  mais  je  ne 
m'en  etonne  pas;  car  cela  me'me  sert  a  prouver 
qu'elles  agissent  naturellement,  et  par  ressorts,  ainsi 
qu'un  horloge  ;  laquelle  montre  bien  mieux  1'heure 
qu'il  est,  que  notre  jugement  nous  1'enseigne.  .  . 
On  peut  seulement  dire  que,  bien  que  les  be'tes  ne 
fassent  aucune  action  qui  nous  assure  qu'elles  pen- 
sent,  toutefois,  a  causeque  les  organes  de  leurs 
corps  ne  sont  pas  fort  difterens  des  notres,  on  peut 
conjecturer  qu'il  y  a  quelque  pensee  jointe  a  ces  or- 
ganes, ainsi  qne  nous  experimentons  en  nous,  bien 
que  la  leur  soil  beaucoup  moins  parfaite ;  a  quoi  je 
n'ai  rien  a  repondre,  si  non  que  si  elles  pensoient 
aussi  que  nous,  elles  auroient  une  ame  immortelle 
aussi  bien  qne  nous ;  ce  qui  n'est  pas  vraisemblable, 
a  cause  qu'il  n'y  a  point  de  raison  pour  le  croire  de 
quelques  animaux,  sans  le  croire  de  tous,  et  qu'il  y 
en  a  plusieurs  trop  imparfaits  pour  pouvoir  croire 
cela  d'eux,  comme  sont  les  huitres,  les  eponges,  &c. 
— Vol.  ix.,  p.  425.  I  do  not  see  the  meaning  of  une 
ame  immortelle  in  the  last  sentence;  if  the  words 
had  been  une  ame  immaterielle,  it  would  be  to  the 
purpose.  More,  in  a  letter  to  which  this  is  a  reply, 
had  argued  as  if  Descartes  took  brutes  for  insensible 
machines,  and  combats  the  paradox  with  the  argu- 
ments which  common  sense  furnishes.  He  would 
even  have  preferred  ascribing  immortality  to  them, 
as  many  ancient  philosophers  did.  But  surely  Des 
cartes,  who  did  not  acknowledge  any  proofs  of  the 
immortality  of  the  soul  to  be  valid,  except  those 
founded  on  revelation,  needed  not  to  trouble  him 
self  much  about  this  difficulty. 

*  C'est  en  effet  parler  de  Dieu  comme  d'un  Jupi- 
ter ou  d'nn  Snturne,  et  1'assujettir  au  Styx  et  aux 
destinees,  que  de  dire  que  ces  verites  sont  inde- 
pendantes  de  lui.  Ne  craignez  point,  je  vous  prie, 
d'assurer  et  de  publier  partout  que  c'est  Dieu  qui  a 
etabli  ces  lois  en  la  nature,  ainsi  qu'un  roi  etablit 
les  lois  en  son  royaume. — Vol.  vi.,  p.  109.  He  ar- 


FROM  1600  TO  1650. 


99 


errors  men  of  original  and  independent 
genius  are  rarely  exempt ;  Descartes  had 
pulled  down  an  edifice  constructed  by  the 
labours  of  near  two  thousand  years,  with 
great  reason  in  many  respects,  yet,  per- 
haps, with  too  unlimited  a  disregard  of  his 
predecessors  ;  it  was  his  destiny,  as  it  had 
been  theirs,  to  be  sometimes  refuted  and 
depreciated  in  his  turn.  But  the  single 
fact  of  his  having  first  established,  both  in 
philosophical  and  popular  belief,  the  im- 
materiality of  the  soul,  were  we  even  to 
forget  the  other  great  accessions  which 
he  made  to  psychology,  would  declare  the 
influence  he  has  had  on  human  opinion. 
From  this  immateriality,  however,  he  did 
not  derive  the  tenet  of  its  immortality. 
He  was  justly  contented  to  say,  that  from 
the  intrinsic  difference  between  mind  and 
body,  the  dissolution  of  the  one  could  not 
necessarily  take  away  the  existence  of  the 
other,  but  that.it  was  for  God  to  determine 
whether  it  should  continue  to  exist;  and 
this  determination,  as  he  thought,  could 
only  be  learned  from  his  revealed  will. 
The  more  powerful  arguments,  according 
to  general  apprehension,  which  reason  af- 
fords for  the  sentient  being  of  the  soul 
after  death,  did  not  belong  to  the  meta- 
physical philosophy  of  Descartes,  and 
would  never  have  been  very  satisfactory 
to  his  mind.  He  says  in  one  of  his  let- 
ters, that,  "  laying  aside  what  faith  assures 
us  of,  he  owns  that  it  is  more  easy  to 
make  conjectures  for  our  own  advantage 
and  entertain  promising  hopes,  than  to 
feel  any  confidence  iu  their  accomplish- 
ment."* 

101.  Descartes  was  perhaps  the  first 
His  just  no-  who  saw  that  definitions  of 
tipn  of  defi-  words,  already  as  cloar  as  they 
nuions.  ean  jje  ma(jej  are  nugatory  or 

impenetrable.  This  alone  would  distin- 
guish his  philosophy  from  that  of  the 
Aristotelians,  who  had  wearied  and  con- 
fused themselves  for  twenty  centuries 
with  unintelligible  endeavours  to  grasp  by 
definition  what  refuses  to  be  defined. 
"  Mr.  Locke,"  says  Stewart,  "  claims  this 
improvement  as  entirely  his  own,  but  the 
merit  of  it  unquestionably  belongs  to  Des- 
cartes, although  it  must  be  owned  that  he 
has  not  always  sufficiently  attended  to  it 
in  his  researches.''!  A  still  more  decisive 

gues  as  strenuously  the  same  point  in  p.  132  and  p. 
307.  *  Vol.ix.,  p.  369. 

t  Dissertation,  uhi  suprJu  Stewart,  in  his  Philo- 
sophical Essays,  note  A,  had  censured  Reid  for  as- 
signing this  remark  to  Descartes  and  Locke,  but 
without  giving  any  better  reason  than  that  it  is 
found  in  a  work  written  by  Lord  Stair ;  earlier, 
certainly,  than  Locke,  but  not  before  Descartes. 
It  may  be  doubtful,  as  we  shall  see  hereafter, 
whether  Locke  has  not  gone  beyond  Descartes,  or, 


passage  to  this  effect  than  that  referred  to 
by  Stewart  in  the  Principia  will  be  found 
in  the  posthumous  dialogue  on  the  Search 
after  Truth.  It  is  objected  by  one  of  the 
interlocutors,  as  it  had  actually  been  by 
Gassendi,  that,  to  prove  his  existence  by 
the  act  of  thinking,  he  must  first  know 
what  existence  and  what  thought  is.  "  I 
agree  with  you,"  the  representative  of 
Descartes  replies,  "  that  it  is  necessary 
to  know  what  doubt  is,  and  what  thought 
is,  before  we  can  be  fully  persuaded  of 
this  reasoning ;  I  doubt,  therefore  I  am, 
or,  what  is  the  same  thing,  I  think,  there- 
fore I  am.  But  do  not  imagine  that  for 
this  purpose  you  must  torture  your  mind 
to  find  out  the  next  genus,  or  the  essen- 
tial differences,  as  the  logicians  talk,  and 
so  compose  a  regular  definition.  Leave 
this  to  such  as  teach  or  dispute  in  the 
schools.  But  whoever  will  examine  things 
by  himself,  and  judge  of  them  according 
to  his  understanding,  cannot  be  so  sense- 
less as  not  to  see  clearly,  when  he  pays 
attention,  what  doubting,  thinking,  being 
are,  and  as  to  have  any  need  to  learn  their 
distinctions.  Besides,  there  are  things 
which  we  render  more  obscure  in  at- 
tempting to  define  them,  because,  as  they 
are  very  simple  and  very  clear,  we  cannot 
know  and  comprehend  them  better  than 
by  themselves.  And  it  should  be  reckon- 
ed among  the  chief  errors  that  can  be 
committed  in  science  for  men  to  fancy 
that  they  can  define  that  which  they  can 
only  conceive,  and  distinguish  what  is 
clear  in  it  from  what  is  obscure,  while 
they  do  not  see  the  difference  between 
that  which  must  be  defined  before  it  is 
understood,  and  that  which  can  be  fully 
known  by  itself.  Now,  among  things 
which  can  thus  be  clearly  known  by  them- 
selves, we  must  put  doubting,  thinking, 
being.  For  I  do  not  believe  any  one  ever 
existed  so  stupid  as  to  need  to  know  what 
being  is  before  he  could  affirm  that  he  is  ; 
and  it  is  the  same  of  thought  and  doubt. 
Nor  can  he  learn  these  things  except  by 
himself,  nor  be  convinced  of  them  but  by 
his  own  experience,  and  by  that  con- 
sciousness and  inward  witness  which  ev- 
ery man  finds  in  himself  when  he  exam- 
ines the  subject.  And  as  we  should  de- 
fine whiteness  in  vain  to  a  man  who  can 
see  nothing,  while  one  who  can  open  his 
eyes  and  see  a  white  object  requires  no 
more,  so  to  know  what  doubting  is,  and 
what  thinking  is,  it  is  only  necessary  to 
doubt  and  to  think."*  Nothing  could 
more  tend  to  cut  short  the  verbal  cavils 
of  the  schoolmen  than  this  limitation  of 


at  least,  distinguished    undefinable    words    more 
strictly.  *  Vol.  xi.,  p.  369. 


100 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


their  favourite  exercise,  definition.  It  is 
due,  therefore,  to  Descartes,  so  often  ac- 
cused of  appropriating  the  discoveries  of 
others,  that  we  should  establish  his  right 
to  one  of  the  most  important  that  the  new 
logic  has  to  boast. 

102.  He   seems,   at   one    moment,   to 
His  notion  or  have  been  on  the  point  of  taking 
substances    another  step  very  far   in   ad- 
vance of  his  age.     "  Let  us  take,"    he 
says,  "  a  piece  of  wax  from  the  honey- 
comb ;  it  retains  some  taste  and  smell ;  it 
is  hard ;  it  is  cold ;  it  has  a  very  marked 
colour,  form,  and  size.     Approach  it  to 
the  fire  ;  it  becomes  liquid,  warn),  inodor- 
ous, tasteless;   its  form  and  colour  are 
changed ;  its  size  is  increased.     Does  the 
same  wax  remain  after  these  changes  ? 
It  must  be  allowed  that  it  does ;  no  one 
doubts  it,  no  one  thinks  otherwise.    What 
was  it,  then,  that  we  so  distinctly  knew 
to  exist  in  this  piece  of  wax  ]     Nothing, 

'  certainly,  that  we  observed  by  the  senses, 
since  all  that  the  taste,  the  smell,  the 
sight,  the  touch  reported  to  us  has  disap- 
peared, and  still  the  same  wax  remains." 
This  something  which  endures  under  ev- 
ery change  of  sensible  qualities  cannot  be 
imagined  ;  for  the  imagination  must  rep- 
resent some  of  these  qualities,  and  none 
of  them  are  essential  to  the  thing  ;  it  can 
only  be  conceived  by  the  understanding.* 

103.  It  may  seem  almost  surprising  to 
not  quite  us,  after  the  writings  of  Locke  and 
correct.    ju's  followers  on  the  one  hand,  and 
the  chymist  with  his  crucible  on  the  oth- 
er, have  chased  these  abstract  substances 
of  material  objects  from  their  sanctuaries, 
that  a  man  of  such  prodigious  acuteness 
and  intense  reflection  as  Descartes  should 
not  have  remarked  that  the  identity  of 
wax  after  its  liquefaction  is  merely  nomi- 
nal, and  depending  on  arbitrary  language, 
which  in  many  cases  gives  new  appella- 
tions to  the  same  aggregation  of  particles 
after  a  change  of  their  sensible  qualities  ; 
and  that  all  we  call  substances  are  but 
aggregates  of  resisting  moveable  corpus- 
cles, which,  by  the  laws  of  nature,  are  ca- 
pable of  affecting  our  senses  differently, 
according  to  the  combinations  they  may 
enter  into,  and  the  changes  they  may  suc- 
cessively undergo.     But,  if  he  had  dis- 
tinctly seen  this,  which  I  do  not  appre- 
hend that  he  did,  it  is  not  likely  that  he 
would  have  divulged  the  discovery.     He 
had  already  given  alarm  to  the  jealous 
spirit  of  orthodoxy  by  what  now  appears 
to  many  so  self-evident,  that  they  have 
treated  the  supposed  paradox  as  a  trifling 
with  words — the  doctrine  that  colour,  heat, 


smell,  and  other  secondary  qualities,  or 
accidents  of  bodies,  do  not  exist  in  them, 
but  in  our  own  minds,  and  are  the  effects 
of  their  intrinsic  or  primary  qualities.  It 
was  the  tenet  of  the  schools  that  these 
were  sensible  realities,  inherent  in  bodies  ; 
and  the  Church  held  as  an  article  of  faith, 
that  the  substance  of  bread  being  with- 
drawn from  the  consecrated  wafer,  the 
accidents  of  that  substance  remained  as 
before,  but  independent,  and  not  inherent 
in  any  other.  Arnauld  raised  this  objec- 
tion, which  Descartes  endeavoured  to  re- 
pel by  a  new  theory  of  transubstantia- 
tion  ;  but  it  always  left  a  shade  of  suspi- 
cion, in  the  Catholic  Church  of  Rome,  on 
the  orthodoxy  of  Cartesianism. 

104.  "  The  paramount  and  indisputable 
authority  which,  in  all  our  rea-  IIis  notion8 
sonings   concerning  the  human  of  intuitive 
mind,  he  ascribes  to  the  evidence  truth- 

of  consciousness,"  is  reckoned  by  Stewart 
among  the  great  merits  of  Descartes.  It 
is  certain  that  there  are  truths  which  we 
know,  as  it  is  called,  intuitively,  that  is, 
by  the  mind's  immediate  inward  glance. 
And  reasoning  would  be  interminable  if 
it  did  not  find  its  ultimate  limit  in  truths 
which  it  cannot  prove.  Gassendi  imputed 
to  Descartes,  that,  in  his  fundamental  en- 
thymem,  Cogito,  ergo  sum,  he  supposed  a 
knowledge  of  the  major  premise,  Quod 
cogitat,  est.  But  Descartes  replied  that  it 
was  a  great  error  to  believe  that  our 
knowledge  of  particular  propositions  must 
always  be  deduced  from  universals,  ac- 
cording to  the  rules  of  logic ;  whereas,  on 
the  contrary,  it  is  by  means  of  our  knowl- 
edge of  particulars  that  we  ascend  to 
generals,  though  it  is  true  that  we  descend 
again  from  them  to  infer  other  particular 
propositions.*  It  is  probable  that  Gas- 
sendi did  not  make  this  objection  very 
seriously. 

105.  Thus  .the  logic  of  Descartes,  using 
that  word  for  principles   that  guide  our 
reasoning,  was  an  instrument  of  defence 
both  against  the  captiousness  of  ordinary 
skepticism,  that  of  the  Pyrrhonic  school, 
and  against  the  disputatious   dogmatism 
of  those  who  professed  to  serve  under  the 
banner  of  Aristotle.     He  who  reposes  on 
his  own  consciousness,  or  who  recurs  to 
first   principles   of   intuitive   knowledge, 
though  he  cannot  be  said  to  silence  his 
adversary,  should  have  the  good  sense  to 
be  silent  himself,  which  puts  equally  an 
end  to  debate.    But,  so  far  as  we  are  con- 
cerned with  the  investigation  of  truth,  the 
Cartesian  appeal  to  our  own  conscious- 


Meditation  Seconde,  i.,  256. 


*  Vol.  ii.,  p.  305.    See,  too,  the  passage  quoted 
above,  in  his  posthumous  dialogue, 


FROM  1600  TO  1650. 


It)! 


ii^-ss,  of  which  Stewart  was  very  fond, 
just  as  it  is  in  principle,  may  end  in  an 
assumption  of  our  own  prejudices  as 
the  standard  of  belief.  Nothing  can  be 
truly  self-evident  but  that  which  a  clear, 
an  honest,  and  an  experienced  under- 
standing in  another  man  acknowledges  to 
be  so. 

106.  Descartes  has  left  a  treatise  high- 
Treatise  on  ly  valuable,  but  not  very  much 
an  of  logic,  known,  on  the  art  of  logic,  or 
rules  for  the  conduct  of  the  understand- 
ing.* Once  only,  in  a  letter,  he  has  al- 
luded to  the  name  of  Bacon. f  There  are, 
perhaps,  a  few  passages  in  this  short  tract 
that  remind  us  of  the  Novum  Organum. 
But  I  do  not  know  that  the  coincidence  is 
such  as  to  warrant  a  suspicion  that  he 
was  indebted  to  it;  we  may  reckon  it 
rather  a  parallel  than  a  derivative  logic ; 
written  in  the  same  spirit  of  cautious,  in- 
ductive procedure,  less  brilliant  and  origi- 
nal in  its  inventions,  but  of  more  general 
application  than  the  Novum  Organum, 
which  is  with  some  difficulty  extended 
beyond  the  province  of  natural  philosophy. 
Descartes  is  as  averse  as  Bacon  to  syllo- 
gistic forms.  "Truth,"  he  says,  "often 
escapes  from  these  fetters,  in  which  those 
who  employ  them  remain  entangled.  This 
is  less  frequently  the  case  with  those  who 


*  M.  Cousin  has  translated  and  republished  two 
works  of  Descartes,  which  had  only  appeared  in 
OperajPosthuma  Cartesii,  Amsterdam,  1702.  Their 
authenticity,  from  external  and  intrinsic  proofs,  is 
out  of  question.  One  of  these  is  that  mentioned  in 
the  text ;  entitled  "  Rules  for  the  Direction  of  the 
Understanding ;"  which,  though  logical  in  its  sub- 
ject, takes  most  of  its  illustrations  from  mathe- 
matics. The  other  is  a  dialogue,  left  imperfect,  in 
which  he  sustains  the  metaphysical  principles  of 
his  philosophy.  Of  these  two  little  tracts  their 
editor  has  said,  that  "  they  equal  in  vigour,  and 
perhaps  surpass  in  arrangement,  the  Meditations 
and  Discourse  on  Method.  We  see  in  these  more 
unequivocally  the  main  object  of  Descartes,  and 
the  spirit  of  the  revolution  which  has  created  mod- 
ern philosophy,  and  placed  in  the  understanding 
itself  the  principle  of  all  certainty,  the  point  of  de- 
parture for  all  legitimate  inquiry.  They  might 
seem  written  but  yesterday,  and  for  the  present 
age." — Vol.  xi.,  preface,  p.  1.  I  may  add  to  this, 
that  I  consider  the  Rules  for  the  Direction  of  the 
Understanding1  as  one  of  the  best  works  on  logic 
(in  the  enlarged  sense)  which  I  have  ever  read  ; 
more  practically  useful,  perhaps,  to  young  students 
than  the  Novum  Organum ;  and  though,  as  1  have 
said,  his  illustrations  are  chiefly  mathematical, 
most  of  his  rules  are  applicable  to  the  general  dis- 
cipline of  the  reasoning  powers.  It  occupies  little 
more  than  one  hundred  pages,  and  I'think  that  1  am 
doing  a  service  in  recommending  it.  Many  of  the 
rul^s  will,  of  course,  be  found  in  later  books  ;  some 
possibly  in  earlier.  This  tract,  as  well  as  the  dia- 
logue which  follows  it,  is  incomplete,  a  portion  be- 
ing probably  lost. 

t  Si  quelqu'un  de  celte  humeur  vouloit  entre- 
prendre  d'ecrire  1'histoire  des  apparences  celestes 
selon  la  methode  de  Verulamius. — Vol.  vi.,  p.  210. 


make  no  use  of  logic,  experience  showing 
that  the  most  subtle  of  sophisms  cheat 
none  but  sophists  themselves,  not  those 
who  trust  to  their  natural  reason.  And 
to  convince  ourselves  how  little  this  syl- 
logistic art  serves  towards  the  discovery 
of  truth,  we  may  remark  that  the  logicians 
can  form  no  syllogism  with  a  true  conclu- 
sion, unless  they  are  already  acquainted 
with  the  truth  that  the  syllogism  develops. 
Hence  it  follows  that  the  vulgar  logic  is 
wholly  useless  to  him  who  would  discover 
truth  for  himself,  though  it  may  assist  in 
explaining  to  others  the  truth  he  already 
knows,  and  that  it  would  be  better  to 
transfer  it  as  a  science  from  philosophy  to 
rhetoric."* 

107.  It  would  occupy  too  much  space 
to  point  out  the  many  profound  Merits  of  his 
and  striking  thoughts  which  this  writings, 
treatise  on  the  conduct  of  the  understand- 
ing, and,  indeed,  most  of  the  writings  of 
Descartes,  contain.    "  The  greater  part  of 
the  questions  on  which  the  learned  dispute 
are  but  questions  of  words.     These  occur 
so  frequently,  that,  if  philosophers  would 
agree  on  the  signification  of  their  words, 
scarce  any  of  their  controversies  would 
remain."     This  has  been  continually  said 
since  ;  but  it  is  a  proof  of  some  progress 
in  wisdom,  when  the  original  thought  of 
one  age  becomes  the  truism  of  the  next. 
No  one  had  been  so  much  on  his  guard 
against  the  equivocation  of  words,  or  knew 
so  well  their  relation  to  the  operations  of 
the  mind.     And  it  may  be  said  generally, 
though  not  without  exception,  of  the  meta- 
physical writings  of  Descartes,  that  we 
find  in  them  a  perspicuity  which  springs 
from  his  unremitting  attention  to  the  logi- 
cal process  of  inquiry,  admitting  no  doubt- 
ful or  ambiguous  position,  and  never  re- 
quiring from  his  reader  a  deference  to  any 
authority  but  that  of  demonstration.    It  is 
a  great  advantage  in  reading  such  writers 
that  we  are  able  to  discern  when  they  are 
manifestly  in  the  wrong.     The  sophisms 
of  Plato,  of  Aristotle,  of  the  schoolmen, 
and  of  a  great  many   recent  metaphy- 
sicians, are  disguised  by  their  obscurity^; 
and  while  they  creep  insidiously  into  the 
mind  of  the  reader,  are  always  denied  and 
explained  away  by  partial  disciples. 

108.  Stewart  has  praised  Descartes  for 
having  recourse  to  the  evidence  His  notions 
of  consciousness  in  order  to  prove  of  free-will, 
the  liberty  of  the  will.     But  he  omits  to 
tell  us  that  the  notions  entertained  by  this 
philosopher  were  not  such  as  have  been 
generally  thought   compatible   with  free 
agency  in  the  only  sense  that  admits  of 

*  Vol.  xi.,  p.  255 


102 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


controversy.  It  was  an  essential  part  of  I 
the  theory  of  Descartes,  that  God  is  the  ! 
cause  of  all  human  actions.  "  Before  God 
sent  us  into  the  world,"  he  says  in  a  let- 
ter, "  he  knew  exactly  what  all  the  incli- 
nations of  our  will  would  be  ;  it  is  he  that 
has  implanted  them  in  us ;  it  is  he  also 
that  has  disposed  all  other  things,  so  that 
such  or  such  objects  should  present  them- 
selves to  us  au  such  or  such  times,  by 
means  of  which  he  has  known  that  our 
free-will  would  determine  us  to  such  or 
such  actions,  and  he  has  willed  that  it 
should  be  so  ;  but  he  has  not  willed  to 
compel  us  thereto."*  "  We  could  not 
demonstrate,"  he  says  at  another  time, 
"  that  God  exists,  except  by  considering 
him  as  a  being  absolutely  perfect;  and  he 
could  not  be  absolutely  perfect  if  there 
could  happen  anything  in  the  world  which 
did  not  spring  entirely  from  him.  .  .  Mere 
philosophy  is  enough  to  make  us  know 
that  there  cannot  enter  the  least  thought 
into  the  mind  of  man,  but  God  must  will 
and  have  willed  from  all  eternity  that  it 
should  enter  there,  "f  This  is  in  a  letter 
to  his  highly  intelligent  friend,  the  Prin- 
cess Palatine  Elizabeth,  granddaughter  of 
James  I. ;  and  he  proceeds  to  declare  him- 
self strongly  in  favour  of  predestination, 
denying  wholly  any  particular  providence, 
to  which  she  had  alluded,  as  changing  the 
decrees  of  God,  and  all  efficacy  of  prayer, 
except  as  one  link  in  the  chain  of  his  de- 
terminations. Descartes  therefore,  what- 
ever some  of  his  disciples  may  have  be- 
come, was  far  enough  from  an  Arminian 
theology.  "  As  to  free-will,"  he  says  else- 
where, "  I  own,  that  thinking  only  of  our- 
selves, we  cannot  but  reckon  it  independ- 
ent ;  but  when  we  think  of  the  infinite  pow- 
er of  God,  we  cannot  but  believe  that  all 
things  depend  on  him,  and  that,  conse- 
quently, our  free-will  must  do  so  too. . .  But 
since  our  knowledge  of  the  existence  of 
God  should  not  hinder  us  from  being  as- 
sured of  our  free-will,  because  we  feel  and 
are  conscious  of  it  in  ourselves,  so  that 
of  our  free-will  should  not  make  us  doubt 
of  the  existence  of  God.  For  the  inde- 
pendence which  we  experience  and  feel 
in  ourselves,  and  which  is  sufficient  to 
make  our  actions  praiseworthy  or  blame- 
able,  is  not  incompatible  with  a  depend- 
ance  of  another  nature,  according  to  which 
all  things  are  subject  to  God."j 

109.  A  system  so  novel,  so  attractive  to 


*  Vol.  is.,  p.  374.  f  Id.,  p.  246. 

JVol.  ix.,  p.  368.    This  had  originally  been  sta- 
in the  Principia  with  less  confidence,  the  free- 
will of  man   and  predetermination  of  God  being 
both  asserted  as  true,  but  their  coexistence  incom- 
prehensible,— Vol.  iii.,  p.  86. 


the  imagination  by  its  bold  and  „ 

,     .,,.         •  T        •*  .1      .        /.   rameof  his 

brilliant  paradoxes  as  that  of  system,  and 
Descartes,  could  not  but  excite  attacks  upon 
the  attention  of  an  age  already  "' 
roused  to  the  desire  of  a  new  philosophy, 
and  to  the  scorn  of  ancient  authority. 
His  first  treatises  appeared  in  French ;  and, 
though  he  afterward  employed  Latin,  his 
works  were  very  soon  translated  by  his 
disciples,  and  under  his  own  care.  He 
wrote  in  Latin  with  great  perspicuity  ;  in 
French  with  liveliness  and  elegance.  His 
mathematical  and  optical  writings  gave 
him  a  reputation  which  envy  could  not 
take  away,  and  secured  his  philosophy 
from  that  general  ridicule  which  some- 
times overwhelms  an  obscure  author.  His 
very  enemies,  numerous  and  vehement  as 
they  were,  served  to  enhance  the  celebrity 
of  the  Cartesian  system,  which  he  seems 
to  have  anticipated  by  publishing  their  ob- 
jections to  his  Meditations  with  his  own 
replies.  In  the  universities,  bigoted  for 
the  most  part  to  Aristotelian  authority,  he 
had  no  chance  of  public  reception ;  but  the 
influence  of  the  universities  was  much 
diminished  in  France,  and  a  new  theory 
ha.d  perhaps  better  chances  in  its  favour 
on  account  of  their  opposition.  But  the 
Jesuits,  a  more  powerful  body,  were  in 
general  adverse  to  the  Cartesian  system, 
and  especially  some  time  afterward,  when 
it  was  supposed  to  have  the  countenance 
of  several  leading  Jansemsts.  The  Epi- 
curean school,  led  by  Gassendi  and  Hobbes, 
presented  a  formidable  phalanx  ;  since  it, 
in  fact,  comprehended  the  wits  of  the 
world,  the  men  of  indolence  and  sensuali- 
ty, quick  to  discern  the  many  weaknesses 
of  Cartesianism,  with  no  capacity  for  its 
excellences.  It  is  unnecessary  to  say 
how  predominant  this  class  was  in  the  sev- 
enteenth and  eighteenth  centuries,  both  in 
France  and  England. 

110.  Descartes  was  evidently  in  con- 
siderable alarm  lest  the  Church  controversy 
should  bear  with  its  weight  withvoet. 
upon  his  philosophy.*  He  had  the  cen- 
sure on  Galileo  before  his  eyes,  and  cer- 
tainly used  some  chicane  of  words  as  to 
the  earth's  movement  upon  this  account. 
It  was,  however,  in  the  Protestant  coun- 
try, which  he  had  chosen  as  his  harbour 
of  refuge,  that  he  was  doomed  to  encoun- 
ter the  roughest  storm.  Gisbert  Voet,  an 

*  On  a  tellement  assujetti  la  theologie  a.  Aris- 
totle, qu'il  est  impossible  d'expliquer  une  antre  phi- 
losophie  qu'il  ne  semble  d'abord  qu'elle  soil  contre 
la  foi.  Et  a-propos  de  ceci,  je  vous  prie  de  me 
mander  s'il  n'y  a  rien  de  determine  en  la  foi  tou- 
chant  1'etendue  du  monde:  savoir  s'il  est  fini  ou  plu- 
tot  infini,  et  si  tout  ce  qu'on  appelle  espaces  imagi- 
nairessoient  des  corps  crees  et  veritables. — Vol.  vi.. 
p.  73. 


FROM  1GOO  TO  1650. 


103 


eminent  theologian  in  the  University  of 
Utrecht,  and  the  head  of  the  party  in  the 
Church  of  Holland,  which  had  been  victo- 
rious in  the  Synod  of  Dort,  attacked  Des- 
cartes with  all  the  virulence  and  bigotry 
characteristic  of  his  school   of  divinity. 
The  famous  demonstration  of  the  being 
of  God  he  asserted  to  be  a  cover  for  athe- 
ism, and  thus  excited  a  flame  of  contro- 
versy, Descartes  being  not  without  sup- 
porters in  the  University,  especially  Re- 
gius, professor  of  medicine.     The  philos- 
opher was  induced,  by  these  assaults,  to 
change  his  residence  from  a  town  in  the 
province   of  Utrecht   to   Leyden.      Voet 
did  not  cease  to  pursue  him  with  outra- 
geous calumny,  and  succeeded  in  obtain- 
ing decrees  of  the  senate  and  University, 
which  interdicted  Regius  from  teaching 
that  "new  and  unproved  (praesumpta)  phi- 
losophy" to  his  pupils.     The  war  of  libels 
on  the  Voetian  side   did  not  cease   for 
some  years,  and  Descartes  replied  with 
no  small  acrimony  against  Voet  himself. 
The  latter  had  recourse  to  the  civil  pow- 
er, and  instituted  a  prosecution  against 
Descartes,  which  was  quashed  by  the  in- 
terference of  the  Prince  of  Orange.     But 
many  in  the  University  of  Leyden,  under 
the  influence  of  a  notable  theologian  of 
that  age,  named  Triglandius,  one   of  the 
stoutest  champions  of  Dutch  orthodoxy, 
raised  a  cry  against  the  Cartesian  philos- 
ophy as  being  favourable  to  Pelagianism 
and  popery,  the  worst  names  that  could 
be  given  in  Holland ;   and  it  was  again 
through  the  protection  of  the  Prince  of 
Orange  that  he  escaped  a  public  censure. 
Regius,  the  most  zealous  of  his  original 
advocates,  began  to  swerve  from  the  fidel- 
ity of  a  sworn  disciple,  and  published  a 
book  containing  some  theories  of  his  own, 
which  Descartes  thought  himself  olliged 
to  disavow.      Ultimately  he   found,  like 
many  benefactors  of  mankind,  that  he  had 
purchased  reputation  at  the  cost  of  peace  ; 
and,  after  some  visits  to  France,  where, 
probably  from  the  same  cause,  he  never 
designed  to  settle,  found  an  honourable 
asylum  and  a  premature  death  at  the  court 
of  Christina.     He  died   in   1651,  having 
worked  a  more  important  change  in  spec- 
ulative philosophy  than  any  who  had  pre- 
ceded him  since  the  revival  of  learning ; 
for  there  could  be  no  comparison  in  that 
age  between  the  celebrity  and  effect  of 
his   writings  and  those  of  Lord  Bacon. 
The  latter  had  few  avowed  enemies  till 
it  was  too  late  to  avow  enmity.* 

*  The  life  of  D«cartes  was  written,  very  fully 
and  with  the  warmth  of  a  disciple,  by  Baillet,  in 
two  volumes  quarto,  1691,  of  which  he  afterward 
published  an  abridgment.  In  this  we  find  at  length 


111.  The  prejudice  against  Desc"rtes, 
especially  in  his  own  country,  charges  of 
was  aggravated  by  his  indiscreet  Plag'ansm. 
and  not  very  warrantable  assumption  of 
perfect  originality.*  No  one,  I  think,  can 
fairly  refuse  to  own  that  the  Cartesian 
metaphysics,  taken  in  their  consecutive  ar- 
rangement, form  truly  an  original  system  ; 
and  it  would  be  equally  unjust  to  deny  the 
splendid  discoveries  he  developed  in  alge- 
bra and  optics.  But  upon  every  one  sub- 
ject which  Descartes  treated,  he  has  not 
escaped  the  charge  of  plagiarism  ;  pro- 
fessing always  to  be  ignorant  of  what  had 
been  done  by  others,  he  falls  perpetually 
into  their  track ;  more,  as  his  adversaries 
maintained,  than  the  chances  of  coinci- 
dence could  fairly  explain.  Leibnitz  has 
Slimmed  up  the  claims  of  earlier  writers 
to  the  pretended  discoveries  of  Descar- 
tes ;  and  certainly  it  is  a  pretty  long  bill 
to  be  presented  to  any  author.  I  shall  in- 
sert this  passage  in  a  note,  though  much 
of  it  has  no  reference  to  this  portion  of 
the  Cartesian  philosophy.!  It  may,  per- 


the  attacks  made  on  him  by  the  Voetian  theologi- 
ans. Brucker  has  given  a  long  and  valuable  ac- 
count of  the  Cartesian  philosophy,  but  not  favour- 
able, and  perhaps  not  quite  fair. — Vol.  v.,  p.  200- 
334.  Buhle  is,  as  usual,  much  inferior  to  Brucker. 
But  those  who  omit  the  mathematical  portion  will 
not  find  the  original  works  of  Descartes  very  long, 
and  they  are  well  worthy  of  being  read. 

*  I  confess,  he  says  in  his  logic,  that  I  was  born 
with  such  a  temper,  that  the  chief  pleasure  I  find 
in  study  is  not  from  learning  the  arguments  of  oth- 
ers, but  by  inventing  my  own.  This  disposition 
alone  impelled  me  in  youth  to  the  study  of  science ; 
hence,  whenever  a  new  book  promised  by  its  title 
some  new  discovery,  before  sitting  down  to  read  it, 
1  used  to  try  whether  my  own  natural  sagacity 
could  lead  me  to  anything  of  the  kind,  and  1  took 
care  not  to  lose  this  innocent  pleasure  by  too  hasty 
a  perusal.  This  answ  <,red  so  often  that  1  at  length 
perceived  that  I  arrived  at  truth,  not  as  other  men 
do,  after  blind  and  precarious  guesses,  by  good  luck 
rather  than  skill,  but  that  long  experience  had 
taught  rne  certain  fixed  rules,  which  were  of  sur- 
prising utility,  and  of  which  I  afterward  made  use 
to  discover  more  truths.— Vol.  xi ,  p.  252. 

t  Dogmata  ejus  metaphysica,  velut  circa  ideas  a 
sensibus  remotas,  et  animae  distinctionem  a  corpore, 
et  fluxam  per  se  rerum  rnatenalium  fidem,  prorsus 
Platonica  sunt.  Argumentum  pro  existentia  Dei, 
ex  eo,  quod  ens  perfectissimum,  vel  quo  majus  in- 
telligi  non  potest,  existentiam  includit,  fui  Anselmi, 
et  in  libro  "  Contra  insipientern"  inscripto  extat  in- 
ter ejus  opera,  passimque  ascholasticis  examinatur. 
In  doctrina  de  continuo,  pleno  et  loco  Aristotelem 
noster  secutus  est,  Stoicosque  in  re  morali  penitus 
expressit,  floriferis  ut  apes  in  saltibus  omnia  libant. 
In  explicatione  rerum  mechanica  Leucippum  et 
Democritum  praaeuntes  habuit,  qui  et  vortices  ipsos 
jam  docuerant.  Jordanus  Brunus  easdem  fere  de 
magnitudine  universi  ideas  habuisse  dicitur,  quern- 
admodum  et  notavit  V.  CC.  Stephanus  Spleissius, 
ut  de  Gilberto  ml  dicatn,  cujus  magnetica?  consid- 
erationes  turn  per  se,  turn  ad  systema  universi  ap- 
phcatao,  Cartesio  plurimum  profuerunt.  Explica- 
tionem  gravitatis  per  materias  solidioris  rejectionem 
in  tangente,  quod  in  physica  Cartesiana  prope  pul- 


104 


•LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


haps,  be  thought  by  candid  minds  that  we  I 
cannot  apply  the  doctrine  of  chances  to 
coincidence  of  reasoning  in  men  of  acute 
and  inquisitive  spirits  as  fairly  as  we  may  \ 
to  that  of  style  or  imagery ;   but  if  we 
hold  strictly  that  the  older  writer  may 
claim  the  exclusive  praise  of  a  philosoph- 
ical discovery,  we  must  regret  to  see  such 
a  multitude  of  feathers  plucked  from  the 
wing  of  an  eagle. 

112.  The  name  of  Descartes  as  a  great 
Recent  in-  metaphysical  writer  has  revived 
crease  of  his  in  some  measure  of  late  years  ; 
fame.  an(j  this  has  been  chiefly  owing, 
among  ourselves,  to  Dugald  Stewart ;  in 
France,  to  the  growing  disposition  of  their 
philosophers  to  cast  away  their  idols  of 
the  eighteenth  century.  "  I  am  disposed," 

rherrimum  est,  didicit  ex  Keplero,  qui  similitudine 
palearum  motu  aquae  in  vase  gyrantis  ad  centrum 
contrursarum  rem  explicuit  primus.  Actionein  lu- 
cis  in  distans,  similitudine  baculi  pressi  jam  veteres 
adutnbravere.  Circa  iridem  a  M.  Antonio  de  Dpm- 
inis  non  parum  lucis  accepit.  Keplerum  fuisse 
primum  suum  in  dioptricis  magistrum,  et  in  eo  ar- 
gumento  omnes  ante  se  mortales  Ipngo  intervallo 
antegressum,  fatetur  Cartesius  in  epistolis  familiar- 
ibus  ;  nam  in  scriptis,  quae  ipse  edidit,  longe  abest 
a  tali  confessione  aut  laude,  tametsi  ilia  ratio,  quae 
rationum  directionem  explicat,  ex  compositione 
nimirum  duplicis  conatus  perpendicularis  ad  super- 
iiciem  et  ad  eandem  parallel!,  disertfe  apud  Keple- 
rum extet,  qui  eodem,  ut  Cartesius,  modo  aequali- 
tatem  angulorum  incidentiae  et  reflexionis  hinc  de- 
ducit.  Idque  gratam  mentionem  ideo  merebatur, 
quod  omnis  prope  Cartesii  ratiocinatio  huic  inriiti- 
tur  principio.  Legem  refractionis  primum  invenisse 
Willebroodum  Snellium,  Isaacus  Vossius  patefecit, 
quanquam  non  ideo  negare  ausim,  Cartesiurn  in 
eadem  incidere  potuisse  de  sno.  Negavit  in  Epis- 
tolis Vietam  sibi  lectum,  sed  Thomas  Harrioti  An- 
gli  libros  analyticos  posthumos  anno  1631  editos 
vidisse  multi  vix  dubitant ;  usque  adeo  magnus  est 
eprum  consensus  cum  calculo  geometriae  Carte- 
sianae.  Sane  jam  Harriotus  asquationem  nihilo 
squalem  posuit,  et  hinc  derivavit,  quomodo  oriatur 
aequatio  ex  multiplicatione  radicum  in  se  invicem, 
et  quomodo  radiorum  auctione,  diminutione,  multi- 
plicatione aut  divisione  variari  jequatio  possit,  et 
quomodo  proinde  natura,  etconstitutio  aequationum 
et  radicum  cognosci  possit  ex  terminorum  habitu- 
dine.  Itaque  narrat  celeberrirnus  Wallisius,  Kober- 
valium,  qui  miratus  erat,  unde  Cartesio  in  rnentem 
venisset  palmarium  illud,  aequationem  ponere  squa- 
lem  nihilo  ad  instar  unius  quantitatis,  ostenso  sibi 
a  Domino  de  Cavendish  libro  Harrioti  exclarnasse, 
il  1'a  vu  !  il  1'a  vu  !  vidit,  vidit.  Reductionem 
quadrato-quadratae  asquationis  ad  cubicam  superipri 
jam  sasculo  invenit  Ludpvicus  Ferrarius,  cujus 
vitarn  reliquit  Cardanus  ejns  familiaris.  Denique 
fuit  Cartesius,  ut  a  viris  doctis  dudum  notatum  est, 
et  ex  epistolis  nimium  apparet,  immodicus  con- 
temptor  aliorum,  et  famae  cupiditate  abartificiis  non 
abstinens,  qu33  parum  generosa  videri  possunt.  At- 
que  hsec  profecto  non  dico  animo  obtrectandi  viro, 
quem  mirific^  aestimo,  sed  eo  consilio,  ut  cuique 
suum  tribuatur,  nee  unus  omnium  laudes  absorbeat ; 
justissirnum  enim  est,  ut  inventoribus  suus  honos 
cpnstet,  nee  sublatis  virtutum  praemiis  praeclara  fa- 
ciendi  studiium  refrigescat. — Leibnitz  apud  Bruck- 
er,7.,255 


says  our  Scottish  philosopher,  "  to  dale 
the  origin  of  the  true  philosophy  of  mind 
from  the  Principia  (why  not  the  earlier 
works  1)  of  Descartes,  rather  than  from 
the  Organum  of  Bacon  or  the  Essays  of 
Locke ;  without,  however,  meaning  to 
compare  the  French  author  with  our  two 
countrymen,  either  as  a  contributor  to 
our  stock  of  facts  relating  to  the  intellect- 
ual phenomena,  or  as  the  author  of  any 
important  conclusion  concerning  the  gen- 
eral laws  to  which  they  may  be  referred." 
The  excellent  edition  by  M.  Cousin,  in 
which  alone  the  entire  works  of  Descartes 
can  be  found,  is  a  homage  that  France 
has  recently  offered  to  his  memory,  and 
an  important  contribution  to  the  studious 
both  of  metaphysical  and  mathematical 
philosophy.  I  have  made  use  of  no  oth- 
er, though  it  might  be  desirable  for  the  in- 
quirer to  have  the  Latin  original  at  his 
side,  especially  in  those  works  which  have 
not  been  seen  in  French  by  their  author. 


SECTION  IV. 
On  the  Metaphysical  Philosophy  of  Hobbes. 

113.  THE  metaphysical  philosophy  of 
Hobbes  was  promulgated  in  his  Metapiiysi- 
treatise  on  Human  Nature,  which  cai  treatises 
appeared  in  1650.  This,  with  his  of 
other  works,  De  Give  and  De  Corpore  Po- 
litico, were  fused  into  that  great  and  gen- 
eral system,  which  he  published  in  1651, 
with  the  title  of  Leviathan.  The  first 
part  of  the  Leviathan,  "  Of  Man,"  follows 
the  several  chapters  of  the  treatise  on 
Human  Nature  with  much  regularity ; 
but  so  numerous  are  the  enlargements  or 
omissions,  so  great  is  the  variance  with 
which  the  author  has  expressed  the  same 
positions,  that  they  should  much  rather 
be  considered  as  two  works  than  as  two 
editions  of  the  same.  They  differ  more 
than  Lord  Bacon's  treatise  De  Augmentis 
Scientiarum  does  from  his  Advancement 
of  Learning.  I  shall,  however,  blend  the 
two  in  a  single  analysis,  and  this  I  shall 
generally  give,  as  far  as  is  possible,  con- 
sistently with  my  own  limits,  in  the  very 
words  of  Hobbes.  His  language  is  so  lu- 
cid and  concise,  that  it  would  be  almost 
as  improper  to  put  an  algebraical  process 
in  different  terms  as  some  of  his  meta- 
physical paragraphs.  But,  as  a  certain 
degree  of  abridgment  cannot  be  dispensed 
with,  the  reader  must  not  take  it  for 
granted,  even  where  mverted  commas 
denote  a  closer  attention  to  the  text,  that 
nothing  is  omitted,  although,  in  such  cases, 


FROM  1600  TO  1650. 


105 


I  never  hold  it  permissible  to  make  any 
change. 

114.  All  single  thoughts,  it  is  the  prima- 
His  theory  of  ry  tenet  of  Hobbes,  are  repre- 
eensatioa  sentations  or  appearances  of 
some  quality  of  a  body  without  us,  which 
is  commonly  called  an  object.  "  There  is 
no  conception  in  a  man's  mind  which  hath 
not  at  first  totally,  or  by  parts,  been  be- 
gotten upon  the  organs  of  sense.  The 
rest  are  derived  from  that  original."*  In 
the  treatise  on  Human  Nature  he  dwells 
long  on  the  immediate  causes  of  sensa- 
tion ;  and.  if  no  alteration  had  been  made 
in  his  manuscript  since  he  wrote  his  dedi- 
cation to  the  Earl  of  Newcastle  in  1640, 
he  must  be  owned  to  have  anticipated 
coincident  Descartes  in  one  of  his  most  cel- 
witn  DOS-  ebrated  doctrines.  "  Because  the 
cartes.  jmage  jn  vision,  consisting  in  col- 
our and  shape,  is  the  knowledge  we  have 
of  the  qualities  of  the  object  of  that  sense, 
it  is  no  hard  matter  for  a  man  to  fall  into 
this  opinion,  that  the  same  colour  and 
shape  are  the  very  qualities  themselves ; 
and  for  the  same  cause  that  sound  and 
noise  are  the  qualities  of  the  bell  or  of 
the  air.  And  this  opinion  hath  been  so 
long  received,  that  the  contrary  must 
needs  appear  a  great  paradox ;  and  yet 
the  introduction  of  species  visible  and  in- 
telligible (which  is  necessary  for  the 
maintenance  of  that  opinion),  passing  to 
and  fro  from  the  object,  is  worse  than  any 
paradox,  as  being  a  plain  impossibility. 
I  shall  therefore  endeavour  to  make  plain 
these  points  :  1.  That  the  subject  wherein 
colour  and  image  are  inherent,  is  not  the 
object  or  thing  seen.  '2.  That  there  is 
nothing  without  us  (really)  which  we  call 
an  image  or  colour.  3.  That  the  said  im- 
age or  colour  is  but  an  apposition  unto  us 
of  the  motion,  agitation,  or  alteration 
which  the  object  worketh  in  the  brain  or 
spirits,  or  some  external  substance  of  the 
head.  4.  That  as  in  vision,  so  also  in 
conceptions  that  arise  from  the  other 
senses,  the  subject  of  their  inherence  is 
not  the  object,  but  the  sentient."!  And 
this  he  goes  on  to  prove.  Nothing  of 
this  will  be  found  in  the  Discourse  sur  la 
Methode,  the  only  work  of  Descartes  then 
published  ;  and,  even  if  we  believe  Hobbes 
to  have  interpolated  this  chapter  after  he 
had  read  the  Meditations,  he  has  stated 
the  principle  so  clearly  and  illustrated  it 
so  copiously,  that,  so  far  especially  as 
Locke  and  the  English  metaphysicians 
took  it  up,  we  may  almost  reckon  him 
another  original  source. 

115.  The  second  chapter  of  the  Levia- 


*  Leviathan,  c.  1. 
VOL.  II.— O 


t  Hum.  Nat.,  c.  2. 


than,  "  On  Imagination,"  begins  imagination 
with  one  of  those  acute  and  and  memory, 
original  observations  we  often  find  in 
Hobbes :  "  That  when  a  thing  lies  still, 
unless  somewhat  else  stir  it,  it  will  lie 
still  for  ever,  is  a  truth  that  no  man  doubts 
of.  But  that,  when  a  thing  is  in  motion, 
it  will  eternally  be  in  motion,  unless  some- 
what stay  it,  though  the  reason  be  the 
same,  namely,  that  nothing  can  change 
itself,  is  not  so  easily  assented  to.  For 
men  measure,  not  only  other  men,  but  all 
other  things,  by  themselves  ;  and  because 
they  find  themselves  subject,  after  motion, 
to  pain  and  lassitude,  think  everything 
else  grows  weary  of  motion  and  seeks 
repose  of  its  own  accord."  The  physical 
principle  had  lately  been  established,  but 
the  reason  here  given  for  the  contrary 
prejudice,  though  not  the  sole  one,  is  in- 
genious, and  even  true.  Imagination  he 
defines  to  be  "  conception  remaining,  and 
by  little  and  little  decaying  after,  the  act 
of  sense."*  This  he  afterward  expressed 
less  happily,  "  the  gradual  decline  of  the 
motion  in  which  sense  consists  •"  his 
phraseology  becoming  more  and  more 
tinctured  with  the  materialism  he  affected 
in  all  his  philosophy.  Neither  definition 
seems  at  all  applicable  to  the  imagination 
which  calls  up  long  past  perceptions. 
"  This  decaying  sense,  when  we  would 
express  the  thing  itself  (I  mean  fancy  it- 
self), we  call  imagination;  but  when  we 
would  express  the  decay,  and  signify  that 
the  sense  is  fading,  old  and  past,  it  is  call- 
ed memory.  So  that  imagination  and 
memory  are  but  one  thing,  which,  for  di- 
vers considerations,  have  divers  names."! 
It  is,  however,  evident  that  imagination 
and  memory  are  distinguished  by  some- 
thing more  than  their  names.  The  sec- 
ond fundamental  error  of  Hobbes  in  his 
metaphysics,  his  extravagant  nominalism, 
if  so  it  should  be  called,  appears  in  this 
sentence,  as  the  first,  his  materialism, 
does  in  that  previously  quoted. 

11G.  The  phenomena  of  dreaming  and 
the  phantasms  of  waking  men  are  con- 
sidered in  this  chapter  with  the  keen  ob- 
servation and  cool  reason  of  Hobbes. J  I 
am  not  sure  that  he  has  gone  more  pro- 
foundly into  pyschological  speculations  in 
the  Leviathan  than  in  the  earlier  treatise ; 
but  it  bears  witness  more  frequently  to 
what  had  probably  been  the  growth  of  the 
intervening  period,  a  proneness  to  politi- 
cal and  religious  allusion,  to  magnify  civil 
and  to  depreciate  ecclesiastical  power. 
"  If  this  superstitious  fear  of  spirits  were 


*  Hum.  Nat.,  c.  3. 
J  Hum.  Nat.,  c.  3. 


t'Lev.,  c.  2. 


106 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


taken  away,  and  with  it  prognostics  from 
dreams,  false  prophecies,  and  many  other 
things  depending  thereon,  by  which  crafty 
and  ambitious  persons  abuse  the  simple 
people,  men  would  be  much  more  fitted 
than  they  are  for  civil  obedience.  And 
this  ought  to  be  the  work  of  the  schools ; 
but  they  rather  nourish  such  doctrine."* 

117.  The  fourth  chapter  on  Human  Na- 
Discourseor  ture'  ar>d  the  corresponding  third 
train  of  ima-  chapter  of  the  Leviathan,  enti- 
gination.       tled  On  Discourse,  or  the  Con- 
sequence and  Train  of  Imagination,  are 
among  the  most  remarkable  in  Hobbes,  as 
they  contain  the  elements  of  that  theory 
of  association,  which  was  slightly  touch- 
ed afterward  by  Locke,  but  developed  and 
pushed  to  a  far  greater  extent  by  Hartley. 
"  The  cause,"  he  says,  "  of  the  coherence 
or  consequence  of  one  conception  to  an- 
other is  their  first  coherence  or  conse- 
quence at  that  time  when  they  are  pro- 
duced by  sense  :  As,  for  instance,  from 
St.  Andrew  the  mind  runneth  to  St.  Peter, 
because  their  names  are  read  together ; 
from  St.  Peter  to  a  stone,  from  the  same 
cause  ;  from  stone  to  foundation,  because 
we  see  them  together ;  and,  for  the  same 
cause,  from  foundation  to   Church,   and 
from  Church  to  people,  and  from  people 
to  tumult ;  and,  according  to  this  exam- 
ple, the  mind  may  run  almost  from  any- 
thing to  anything."!    This  he  illustrates 
in  the  Leviathan  by  the  well-known  ques- 
tion suddenly  put  by  one  in  conversation 
about  the  death  of   Charles   I.,   "What 
was  the  value  of  a  Roman  penny  ?"     Of 
this  discourse,  as  he  calls  it,  in  a  larger 
sense  of  the  word  than  is  usual  with  the 
logicians,    he    mentions    several    kind* ; 
and,   after   observing   that    the   remem- 
brance of  succession  of  one  thing  to  an- 
other, that  is,  of  what  was  antecedent,  and 
what  consequent,  and  what  concomitant,  is 
called  an  experiment,  adds,  that  "  to  have 
had  many  experiments   is  what  we  call 
experience,  which  is  nothing  else  but  re- 
membrance  of   what   antecedents   have 
been  followed  by  what  consequents."! 

118.  "No  man  can  have  a  conception 
Experience.  of  the  futllre,  for  the  future  is  not 

yet,  but  of  our  conceptions  of 
the  past  we  make  a  future,  or,  rather,  call 
past  future  relatively."^  And  again:  "The 
present  only  has  a  being  in  nature  ;  things 
past  have  a  being  in  the  memory  only,  but 
things  to  come  have  no  being  at  all ;  the 
future  being  but  a  fiction  of  the  mind,  ap- 
plying the  sequels  of  actions  past  to  the 
actions  that  are  present,  which  with  most 


*  Hum.  Nat.,  c.  3. 
t  Id.  ibid. 


t  Id.,  c.  4,  §  2. 
$  Id.,  c.  4,  $  7. 


certainty  is  done  by  him  that  has  most 
experience,  but  not  with  certainty  enough. 
And  though  it  be  called  prudence  when 
the  event  answereth  our  expectation,  yet 
in  its  own  nature  it  is  but  presumption."* 
"  When  we  have  observed  antecedents 
and  consequents  frequently  associated,  we 
take  one  for  a  sign  of  the  other,  afe  clouds 
foretel  rain,  and  rain  is  a  sign  there  have 
been  clouds.  But  signs  are  but  conjectu- 
ral, and  their  assurance  is  never  full  or 
evident.  For  though  a  man  have  always 
seen  the  day  and  night  follow  to  one  an- 
other hitherto,  yet  can  he  not  thence  con- 
clude they  shall  do  so,  or  that  they  have 
done  so,  eternally.  Experience  conclu- 
deth  nothing  universally.  But  those  who 
have  most  experience  conjecture  best,  be- 
cause they  have  most  signs  to  conjecture 
by ;  hence  old  men,  caeteris  paribus,  and 
men  of  quick  parts,  conjecture  better  than 
the  young  or  dull."f  "  But  experience  is 
not  to  be  equalled  by  any  advantage  of 
natural  and  extemporary  wit,  though  per- 
haps many  young  men  think  the  contra- 
ry." There  is,  a  presumption  of  the  past 
as  well  as  the  future  founded  on  experi- 
ence, as  when,  from  having  often  seen 
ashes  after  fire,  we  infer,  from  seeing  them 
again,  that  there  has  been  fire.  But  this 
is  as  conjectural  as  our  expectations  of 
the  future.J 

1 19.  In  the  last  paragraph  of  the  chapter 
in  the  Leviathan  he  adds,  what  Unconceive. 
is  a  very  leading  principle  in  the  ;  wer.ess  of 
philosophy  of  Hobbes,  but  seems  in(ililty- 
to  have  no  particular  relation  to  what  has 
preceded :  "  Whatsoever  we  imagine  is 
finite ;  therefore  there  is  no  idea  or  con- 
ception of  anything  we  call  infinite.  No 
man  can  have  in  his  mind  an  image  of 
infinite  magnitude,  nor  conceive  infinite 
swiftness,  infinite  time,  or  infinite  force,  or 
infinite  power.  When  we  say  anything 
is  infinite,  we  signify  only  that  we  are  not 
able  to  conceive  the  ends  and  bounds  of 
the  things  named,  having  no  conception 
of  the  thing,  but  of  our  own  inability.  And 
therefore  the  name  of  God  is  used,  not  to 
make  us  conceive  him,  for  he  is  incom- 
prehensible, and  his  greatness  and  power 
are  inconceivable,  but  that  we  may  honour 
him.  Also,  because  whatsoever,  as  I  said 
before,  we  conceive  has  been  perceived 
first  by  sense,  either  all  at  once  or  by 
parts,  a  man  can  have  no  thought,  repre- 
senting anything,  not  subject  to  sense. 
JsTo  man,  therefore,  can  conceive  anything, 
but  he  must  conceive  it  in  some  place, 
and,  indeed,  with  some  determinate  mag- 
nitude, and  which  may  be  divided  into 


*  Lev.,  c.  3. 


•f  Hum.  Nat. 


{Lev. 


FROM  1600  TO  1650. 


107 


parts,  nor  that  anything  is  all  in  this  place 
and  all  in  another  place  at  the  same  time, 
nor  that  two  or  more  things  can  be  in  one 
and  the  same  place  at  once.  For  none  of 
these  things  ever  have  or  can  be  incident  to 
sense,  but  are  absurd  speeches,  taken  upon 
credit,  without  any  signification  at  all,  from 
deceived  philosophers,  and  deceived  or  de- 
ceiving schoolmen.'}  This,  we  have  seen 
in  the  last  section,  had  been  already  dis- 
cussed with  Descartes.  The  paralogism 
of  Hobbes  consists  in  his  imposing  a 
limited  sense  on  the  word  idea  or  concep- 
tion, and  assuming  that  what  cannot  be 
conceived  according  to  that  sense  has  no 
signification  at  all. 

120.  The  next  chapter,  being  the  fifth  in 
Origin  of  one  treatise  and  the  fourth  in  the 
language,  other,  may  be  reckoned,  perhaps, 
the  most  valuable,  as  well  as  original,  in 
the  writings   of   Hobbes.     It   relates   to 
speech  and  language.    "  The  invention  of 
printing,"  he  begins  by  observing,  "  though 
ingenious,  compared  with  the  invention 

of  letters,  is  no  great  matter But 

the  most  noble  and  profitable  invention  of 
all  others   was  that  of  speech,  consist- 
ing of  names   or  appellations,  and  their 
connexion,  whereby  men   register   their 
thoughts,  recall  them  when  they  are  past, 
and  also  declare  them  one  to  another  for 
mutual  utility  and  conversation  ;  without 
which  there  had  been  among  men  neither 
commonwealth,  nor  society,  nor  content, 
nor  peace,  no   more   than   among  lions, 
bears,  and  wolves.     The  first  author  of 
speech  was  God  himself,  that  instructed 
Adam  how  to  name  such  creatures  as  he 
presented  to  his  sight ;  for  the  Scripture 
goeth  no  farther  in  this  matter.     But  this 
was  sufficient  to  direct  him  to  add  more 
names,  as  the  experience  and  use  of  the 
creatures  should  give  him  occasion,  and 
to  join  them  in  such  manner  by  degrees 
as  to  make  himself  understood ;  and  so, 
by  succession  of  time,  ,so  much  language 
might  be  gotten  as  he  iiad  found  use  for, 
though  not  so  copious  as  an  orator  or 
philosopher  has  need  of."* 

121.  This   account  of  the  original  of 
His  political  language  appears  in  general  as 
theory  iniur-  probable  as  it  is  succinct   and 
feres.  clear.    But  the  assumption  that 
there  could  have  been  no  society  or  mutual 
peace  among  mankind  without  language, 
the  ordinary  instrument  of  contract,  is 
too  much  founded  upon  his  own  political 
speculations.     Nor  is   it  proved  by  the 
comparison  to  lions,  bears,  and  wolves, 
even  if  the  analogy  could  be  admitted ; 
since  the  state  of  warfare  which  he  here 

*  Leviathan,  c.  4. 


intimates  to  be  natural  to  man  does  not 
commonly  subsist  in  these  wild  animals 
of  the  same  species.-  S&vis  inter  se  con- 
venit  ursis  is  an  old  remark.  But,  taking 
mankind  with  as  much  propensity  to  vio- 
lence towards  each  other  as  Hobbes  could 
suggest,  is  it  speech,  or  reason  and  the 
sense  of  self-interest,  which  has  restrained 
this  within  the  boundaries  imposed  on  it 
by  civil  society  ?  The  position  appears  to 
be,  that  man,  with  every  other  faculty  and 
attribute  of  his  nature  except  language, 
could  never  have  lived  in  community 
with  his  fellows.  It  is  manifest  that  the 
mechanism  of  such  a  community  would 
have  been  very  imperfect.  But, possessing 
his  rational  powers,  it  is  hard  to  see  why 
he  might  not  have  devised  signs  to  make 
known  his  special  wants,  or  why  he  might 
not  have  attained  the  peculiar  prerogative 
of  his  species  and  foundation  of  society, 
the  exchange  of  what  he  liked  less  for 
what  he  liked  better. 

12.2.  This  will  appear  more  evident,  and 
the  exaggerated  notions  of  the  Necessity  of 
school  of  Hobbes  as  to  the  ab-  speech  exag- 
solute  necessity  of  language  to  seratei 
the  mutual  relations  of  mankind,  will  be 
checked  by  considering,  what  was  not  so 
well  understood  in  his  age  as  at  present, 
the  intellectual  capacities  of  those  who 
are  born  deaf,  and  the  resources  which 
they  are  able  to  employ.  It  can  hardly 
be  questioned  but  that  a  number  of  fam- 
ilies, thrown  together  in  this  unfortunate 
situation,  without  other  intercourse,  could, 
by  the  exercise  of  their  natural  reason,  as 
well  as  the  domestic  and  social  affections, 
constitute  themselves  into  a  sort  of  com- 
monwealth, at  least  as  regular  as  that  of 
the  ants  and  bees ;  and,  if  the  want  of 
language  would  deprive  them  of  many  ad- 
vantages of  polity,  it  would  also  secure 
them  from  much  fraud  and  conspiracy. 
But  those  whom  we  have  known  to  want 
the  use  of  speech  have  also  wanted  the 
sense  of  hearing,  and  have  thus  been  shut 
out  from  many  assistances  to  the  reason- 
ing faculties  which  our  hypothesis  need 
not  exclude.  The  fair  supposition  is  that 
of  a  number  of  persons  merely  dumb ; 
and,  although  they  would  not  have  laws 
or  learning,  it  does  not  seem  impossible 
that  they  might  maintain  at  least  a  patri- 
archal, if  not  a  political,  society  for  many 
generations.  Upon  the  lowest  supposi- 
tion, they  could  not  be  inferior  to  the 
Chimpanzees,  who  are  said  to  live  in  com- 
munities in  the  forests  of  Angola. 

123.  The  succession  of  conceptions  in 
the  mind  depending  wholly  on  that  use  of 
they  had  one  to  another  when  pro-  nair 
duced  by  the  senses,  they  cannot  be  ".-.  - 


108 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


called  at  our  choice  and  the  need  we  have 
of  them,  "  but  as  it  chanceth  us  to  hear 
and  see  such  things  as  shall  bring  them  to 
our  mind.  Hence  brutes  are  unable  to 
call  what  they  want  to  mind,  and  often, 
though  they  hide  food,  do  not  know  where 
to  find  it.  But  man  has  the  power  to  set 
up  marks  or  sensible  objects,  and  remem- 
ber thereby  somewhat  past.  The  most 
eminent  of  these  are  names  or  articulate 
sounds,  by  which  we  recall  some  concep- 
tion of  things  to  which  we  give  those 
names  ;  as  the  appellation  white  bringeth 
to  remembrance  the  quality  of  such  ob- 
jects as  produce  that  colour  or  conception 
in  us.  It  is  by  names  that  we  are  capable 
of  science,  as,  for  instance,  that  of  num- 
ber; for  beasts  cannot  number  for  want 
of  words,  and  do  not  miss  one  or  two  out 
of  their  young  ;  nor  could  a  man,  without 
repeating  orally  or  mentally  the  words  of 
number,  know  how  many  pieces  of  money 
may  be  before  him."*  We  have  here  an- 
other assumption,  that  the  numbering  fac- 
ulty is  not  stronger  in  man  than  in  brutes, 
and  also  that  the  former  could  not  have 
found  out  how  to  divide  a  heap  of  coins 
into  parcels  without  the  use  of  words  of 
number.  The  experiment  might  be  tried 
with  a  deaf  and  dumb  child. 

124.   Of  names,  some  are  proper,  and 

Names  uni-  some  COmmOll  to  many  Or  Uni- 
versal not  versal,  there  being  nothing  in  the 
realities.  world  universal  but  names,  for 
the  things  named  are  every  one  of  them 
individual  and  singular.  "  One  universal 
name  is  imposed  on  many  things  for  their 
similitude  in  some  quality  or  other  acci- 
dents ;  and  whereas  a  proper  name  bring- 
eth to  mind  one  thing  only,  universals  re- 
call any  one  of  those  many,"f  "  The  uni- 
versality of  one  name  to  many  things  hath 
been  the  cause  that  men  think  the  things 
are  themselves  universal,  and  so  seriously 
contend  that  besides  Peter  and  John,  and 
all  the  rest  of  the  men  that  are,  have  been, 
or  shall  be  in  the  world,  there  is  yet  some- 
thing else  that  we  call  man  ;  viz.,  man  in 
general,  deceiving  themselves  by  taking 
the  universal  or  general  appellation  for 
the  thing  it  signifieth.J  For  if  one  should 


*  Hum.  Nat.,  c.  5.  t  Lev.,  c.  4. 

J  "  A  universal,"  he  says  in  his  Logic,  "  is  not  a 
name  of  many  things  collectively,  but  of  each  taken 
separately  ^sigillatim  sumptorum).  Man  is  not  the 
name  of  the  human  species  in  general,  but  of  each 
single  man,  Peter,  John,  and  the  rest,  separately. 
Therefore  this  universal  name  is  not  the  name  of 
*  anything  existing  in  nature, nor  of  any  idea  or  phan- 
tasm formed  in  the  mind,  but  always  of  some  word 
or  name.  Thus,  when  an  animal,  or  a  stone,  or  a 
ghost  (spectrum),  or  anything  else  is  called  univer- 
sal, we  are  not  to  understand  that  any  man,  or  stone, 
or  anything  else  was,  or  is,  or  can  be  a  universal, 


desire  the  painter  to  make  him  the  picture 
of  a  man,  which  is  as  much  as  to  say  of 
a  man  in  general,  he  meaneth  no  more 
but  that  the  painter  should  choose  what 
man  he  pleaseth  to  draw,  which  must 
needs  be  some  of  them  that  are,  or  have 
been,  or  may  be,  none  of  which  are  uni- 
versal. But  when  he  would  have  him  to 
draw  the  picture  of  the  king,  or  any  par- 
ticular person,  he  limiteth  the  painter  to 
that  one  person  he  chooseth.  It  is  plain, 
therefore,  that  there  is  nothing  universal 
but  names,  which  are  therefore  called  in- 
definite."* 

125.  "By  this  imposition  of  names,  some 
of  larger,  some  of  stricter  significa-  HOW  im- 
tion,  we  turn  the  reckoning  of  the  P°sed- 
consequences  of  things  imagined  in  the 
mind  into  a  reckoning  of  the  consequences 
of  appellations."!  Hence  he  thinks  that 
though  a  man  born  deaf  and  dumb  might, 
by  meditation,  know  that  the  angles  of  one 
triangle  are  equal  to  two  right  ones,  he 
could  not,  on  seeing  another  triangle  of 
different  shape,  infer  the  same  without  a 
similar  process.  But  by  the  help  of  words, 
after  having  observed  the  equality  is  not 
consequent  on  anything  peculiar  to  one 
triangle,  but.  on  the  number  of  sides  and 
angles  which  is  common  to  all,  he  regis- 
ters his  discovery  in  a  proposition.  This 
is  surely  to  confound  the  antecedent  pro- 
cess of  reasoning  with  what  he  calls  the 
registry,  which  follows  it.  The  instance, 
however,  is  not  happily  chosen,  and  Hobbes 


but  only  that  these  words  animal,  stone,  and  the 
like  are  universal  names,  that  is,  names  common 
to  many  things,  and  the  conceptions  corresponding 
to  them  in  the  mind  are  the  images  and  phantasms 
of  single  animals  or  other  things.  And  therefore 
we  do  not  need,  in  order  to  understand  what  is 
meant  by  a  universal,  any  other  faculty  than  that  of 
imagination,  by  which  we  remember  that  such 
words  have  excited  the  conception  in  our  minds, 
sometimes  of  one  particular  thing,  sometimes  of 
another." — Cap.  2,  §  9.  Imagination  and  memory 
are  used  by  Hobbes  almost  as  synonymes. 

*  Hum.  Nat.,  c.  5. 

t  It  may  deserve  to  be  remarked  that  Hobbe» 
himself,  Nominalist  as  he  was,  did  not  limit  reason- 
ing to  comparison  of  propositions,  as  some  later 
writers  have  been  inclined  to  do,  and  as,  in  his  ob- 
jections to  Descartes,  he  might  seem  to  do  himself. 
This  may  be  inferred  from  the  sentence  quoted  in 
the  text,  and  more  expressly,  though  not  quite  per- 
spicuously, from  a  passage  in  the  Computatio,  she 
Logica,  his  Latin  treatise  published  after  the  Levi- 
athan. Quomodo  autem  anirno  sine  verbis  tacita  co- 
gitatione  ratiocinando  adde.re  et  subtrahere  solemus  uno 
aut  altero  exemplo  ostendendum  est.  Si  quis  ergo 
e  longinquo  aliquid  obscure  videat,  etsi  nulla  sint 
imposita  vocabula,  habet  tamen  ejus  rei  ideam  ean- 
dem  propter  quam  impositis  nunc  vocabulis  dicit 
earn  rem  esse  corpus.  Postquam  autem  propius 
accesserit,  videritque  eandem  rem  certo  quodain 
modo  nunc  uno,  nunc  alio  in  loco  esse,  habebit  ejus- 
dem  ideam  novam,  propter  quam  nunc  talem  rem 
animatam  vocat,  &C.,  p.  2. 


FROM  1600  TO  1650. 


109 


has  conceded  the  whole  point  in  question 
by  admitting  that  the  truth  of  the  proposi- 
tion could  be  observed,  which  cannot  re- 
quire the  use  of  words.*  He  expresse 
the  next  sentence  with  more  felicity. 
"  And  thus  the  consequence  found  in  one 
particular  comes  to  be  registered  and  re- 
membered as  a  universal  rule,  and  dis- 
charges our  mental  reckoning  of  time  and 
place  ;  and  delivers  us  from  all  labour  of 
the  mind  saving  the  first,  and  makes  that 
which  was  found  true  here  and  now  to  be 
true  in  all  times  and  places."! 

126.  The  equivocal  use  of  names  makes 
The  subject  it  often  difficult  to  recover  those 
continued  conceptions  for  which  they  were 
designed,  "  not  only  in  the  language  of 
others,  wherein  we  are  to  consider  the 
drift,  and  occasion,  and  contexture  of  the 
speech,  as  well  as  the  words  themselves, 
but  in  our  own  discourse,  which,  being  de- 
rived from  the  custom  and  common  use 
of  speech,  representeth  unto  us  not  our 
own  conceptions.  It  is,  therefore,  a  great 
ability  in  a  man,  out  of  the  words,  con- 
texture, and  other  circumstances  of  lan- 
guage, to  deliver  himself  from  equivoca- 
tion, and  to  find  out  the  true  meaning  of 
what  is  said  ;  and  this  is  it  we  call  under- 
standing. "J  "  If  speech  be  peculiar  to 
man,  as  for  aught  I  know  it  is,  then  is  un- 
derstanding peculiar  to  him  also ;  under- 
standing being  nothing  else  but  conception 
caused  by  speech. "§  This  definition  is 
arbitrary,  and  not  conformable  to  the  usual 
sense.  "  True  and  false,"  he  observes 
afterward,  "  are  attributes  of  speech,  not 
of  things ;  where  speech  is  not,  there  is 
neither  truth  nor  falsehood,  though  there 
may  be  error.  Hence,  as  truth  consists 
in  the  right  ordering  of  names  in  our  af- 
firmations, a  man  that  seeks  precise  truth 
hath  need  to  remember  what  every  word 


*  The  demonstration  of  the  thirty-second  propo- 
sition of  Euclid  could  leave  no  one  in  doubt  wheth- 
er this  property  were  common  to  all  triangles,  after 
it  had  been  proved  in  a  single  instance.  It  is  said, 
however,  to  be  recorded  by  an  ancient  writer,  that 
this  discovery  was  first  made  as  to  equilateral,  af- 
terward as  to  isosceles,  and  lastly  as  to  other  trian- 
gles.— Stewart's  Philosophy  of  Human  Mind,  vol. 
ii.,  chap,  iv  ,  sect.  2.  The  mode  of  proof  must  have 
been  different  from  that  of  Euclid.  And  this  might 
possibly  lead  us  to  suspect  the  truth  of  the  tradition. 
For  if  the  equality  of  the  angles  of  a  triangle  to  two 
right  angles  admitted  of  any  elementary  demonstra- 
tion, such  as  might  occur  in  the  infancy  of  geome- 
try, without  making  use  of  the  property  of  parallel 
lines  assumed  in  the  twelfth  axiom  of  Kuciid,  the 
difficulties  consequent  on  that  assumption  would 
readily  be  evaded. — See  the  Note  on  Kuciid,  i ,  29, 
in  Playfair,  who  has  given  a  demonstration  of  his 
own,  but  one  which  involves  the  idea  of  motion 
rather  more  than  was  usual  with  the  Greeks  in 
their  elementary  propositions.  t  Lev. 

t  Hum.  Nat.  Lev. 


he  uses  stands  for,  and  place  it  according- 
ly. In  geometry,  the  only  science  hither- 
to known,  men  begin  by  definitions.  And 
every  man  who  aspires  to  true  knowledge 
should  examine  the  definitions  of  former 
authors,  and  either  correct  them  or  make 
them  anew.  For  the  errors  of  definitions 
multiply  themselves,  according  as  the 
reckoning  proceeds,  and  lead  men  into  ab- 
surdities, which  at  last  they  see,  but  can- 
not avoid  without  reckoning  anew  from 
the  beginning,  in  which  lies  the  foundation 
of  their  errors In  the  right  defini- 
tion of  names  lies  the  first  use  of  speech, 
which  is  the  acquisition  of  science.  And 
in  wrong  or  no  definitions  lies  the  first 
abuse  from  which  proceed  all  false  and 
senseless  tenets,  which  make  those  men 
that  take  their  instruction  from  the  au- 
thority of  books,  and  not  from  their  own 
meditation,  to  be  as  much  below  the  con- 
dition of  ignorant  men,  as  men  endued 
with  true  science  are  above  it.  For,  be- 
tween true  science  and  erroneous  doctrine, 
ignorance  is  in  the  middle.  Words  are 
wise  men's  counters  ;  they  do  but  reckon 
by  them ;  but  they  are  the  money  of 
fools."* 

127.  "  The  names  of  such  things  as  af- 
fect us,  that  is,  which  please  and  \ames  dif- 
displease  us,  because  all  men  be  feremiy  im- 
not  alike  affected  with  the  same  posed- 
thing,  nor  the  same  man  at  all  times,  are, 
in  the  common  discourse  of  men,  of  in- 
constant signification.  For,  seeing  all 
names  are  imposed  to  signify  our  concep- 
tions, and  all  our  affections  are  but  con- 
ceptions, when  we  conceive  the  same 
thoughts  differently,  we  can  hardly  avoid 
different  naming  of  them.  For,  though  the 
nature  of  that  we  conceive  be  the  same, 
yet  the  diversity  of  our  reception  of  it,  in 
respect  of  different  constitutions  of  body 
and  prejudices  of  opinion,  gives  every- 
thing a  tincture  of  our  different  passions. 
And,  therefore,  in  reasoning,  a  man  must 
take  heed  of  words,  which,  besides  the 
signification  of  what  we  imagine  of  their 
nature,  have  a  signification  also  of  the 
nature,  disposition,  and  interest  of  the 
speaker  ;  such  as  are  the  names  of  virtues 
and  vices ;  for  one  man  calleth  wisdom 
what  another  calleth  fear,  and  one  cruelty 
what  another  justice ;  one  prodigality 
what  another  magnanimity,  and  one  grav- 
ity what  another  stupidity,  &c.  And, 
therefore,  such  names  can  never  be  true 
grounds  of  any  ratiocination.  No  more 
can  metaphors  and  tropes  of  speech  ;  but 
these  are  less  dangerous,  because  they 
profess  their  inconstancy,  which  the  other 
do  not."f  Thus  ends  this  chapter  of  the 


*  Lev. 


f  Id. 


110 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


Leviathan,  which,  with  the  corresponding 
one  in  the  Treatise  on  Human  Nature,  are, 
notwithstanding  what  appear  to  me  some 
erroneous  principles,  as  full,  perhaps,  of 
deep  and  original  thoughts  as  any  other 
pages  of  equal  length  on  the  art  of  reason- 
ing and  philosophy  of  language.  Many 
have  borrowed  from  Hobbes  without  na- 
ming him  ;  and,  in  fact,  he  is  the  founder 
of  the  nominalist  school  in  England.  He 
may  probably  have  conversed  with  Bacon 
on  these  subjects ;  we  see  much  of  that 
master's  style  of  illustration.  But  as  Ba- 
con was  sometimes  too  excursive  to  sift 
particulars,  so  Hobbes  has  sometimes 
wanted  a  comprehensive  view. 

128.  "  There    are,"    to    proceed    with 
Knowledge.  Hobbes'  "  two  kinds  of  knowl- 
edge ;  the  one,  sense,  or  knowl- 
edge original,  and  remembrance   of  the 
same ;  the  other,  science,  or  knowledge 
of  the  truth  of  propositions,  derived  from 
understanding.     Both  are  but  experience, 
one  of  things  from  without,  the  other  from 
the  proper  use  of  words  in  language;  and 
experience  being   but  remembrance,  all 
knowledge  is  remembrance.     Knowledge 
implies  two  things,  truth  and  evidence  ; 
the  latter  is  the  concomitance  of  a  man's 
conception  with  the   words  that  signify 
such  conception  in  the  act  of  ratiocina- 
tion."    If  a  man  does  not  annex  a  mean- 
ing to  his  words,  his  conclusions  are  not 
evident  to  him.      "  Evidence  is  to   truth 
as  the  sap  to  the  tree,  which,  so  far  as  it 
creepeth  along  with  the  body  and  branches, 
keepeth  them  alive ;   when  it  forsaketh 
them  they  die  ;  for  this  evidence,  which  is 
meaning  with  our  words,  is  the  life  of 
truth."     "  Science  is  evidence  of  truth, 
from  s\)me  beginning  or  principle  of  sense. 
The  first  principle  of  knowledge  is  that 
we  have  such  and  such  conceptions ;  the 
second,  that  we  have  thus  and  thus  named 
the  things  whereof  they  are  conceptions  ; 
the  third  is  that  we  have  joined  those 
names  in  such  manner  as  to  make  true 
propositions;  the  fourth  and  last  is  that 
we  have  joined  these  propositions  in  such 
manner  as   they  be  concluding,  and  the 
truth  of  the  conclusion  said  to  be  known."* 

129.  Reasoning  is  the  addition  or  sub- 
Reasoning.  traction  °f  Panels.     "In  what- 
ever matter  there  is  room   for 

addition  and  subtraction,  there  is  room  for 
reason ;  and  where  these  have  no  place, 
then  reason  has  nothing  at  all  to  do."f 
This  is  neither  as  perspicuously  express- 
ed, nor  as  satisfactorily  illustrated,  as  is 
usual  with  Hobbes  ;  but  it  is  true  that  all 
syllogistic  reasoning  is  dependant  upon 


Hum.  Nat.,  c.  6. 


t  Lev.,  c.  5. 


quantity  alone,  and,  consequently,  upon 
that  which  is  capable  of  addition  and  sub- 
traction. This  seems  not  to  have  been 
clearly  perceived  by  some  writers  of  the 
old  Aristotelian  school,  or  perhaps  by  some 
others,  who,  as  far  as  I  can  judge,  have  a 
notion  that  the  relation  of  a  genus  to  a 
species,  or  a  predicate  to  its  subject,  con- 
sidered merely  as  to  syllogism  or  deduct- 
ive reasoning,  is  something  different  from 
that  of  a  whole  to  its  parts  ;  which  would 
deprive  that  logic  of  its  chief  boast,  its 
axiomatic  evidence.  But,  as  this  would 
appear  too  dry  to  some  readers,  I  shall 
pursue  it  farther  in  a  n«te.* 


*  Dugald  Stewart  (Elements  of  Philosophy,  &c., 
vol.  ii.,  ch.  ii.,  sect.  2)  has  treated  this  theory  of 
Hobbes  on  reasoning,  as  well  as  that  of  Condillac, 
which  seems  much  the  same,  with  great  scorn,  as 
'  too  puerile  to  admit  of  (i.  e.,  require)  refutation." 
[  do  not  myself  think  the  language  of  Hobhes,  ei- 
;her  here,  or  as  quoted  by  Stewart  from  his  Latin 
treatise  on  Logic,  so  perspicuous  as  usual.  But  I 
cannot  help  being  of  opinion  that  he  is  substantially 
right.  For  surely,  when  we  assert  that  A  is  B,  we 
•\ssert  that  all  things  which  fall  under  the  class  B, 
aken  collectively,  comprehend  A  ;  or  that  B=A 
-f-X  :  B  being  here  put,  it  is  to  be  observed,  not  for 
;he  res  prcedicata  itself,  but  for  the  concrete,  de  qui- 
bus  pradicandum  est.  I  mention  this,  because  this 
lliptical  use  of  the  word  predicate  seems  to  have 
occasioned  some  confusion  in  writers  on  logic.  The 
Dredicate  strictly  taken,  being  an  attribute  or  quali- 
:y,  cannot  be  said  to  include  or  contain  the  subject. 
But  to  return  :  when  we  say  B=A-)-X,  or  B — X= 

A,  since  we  do  not  compare,  in  such  a  proposition, 
as  is  here  supposed,  A  with  X,  we  only  mean  that 
A=A,or  that  a  certain  part  of  B  is  the  same  as  it- 
self.    Again,  in  a  particular  affirmative,  Some  A  is 

B,  we  assert  that  part  of  A,  or  A — Y  is  contained  in 
B,  or  that  B  may  be  expressed  by  A — Y-f-X.     So 
also  when  we  say,  Some  A  is  not  B,  we  equally  di- 
vide the  class  or  genus  B  into  A — Y  and  X,  or  as- 
sert that  B=A—  Y+X;  but  in  this  case  the  sub- 
ject is  no  longer  A — Y,  but  the  remainder,  or  other 
part  of  A,  namely,  Y  ;  and  this  is  not  found  in  ei- 
ther term  of  the  predicate.     Finally,  in  the  umver- 
sal  negative,  No  A  (neither  A— Y  nor  Y)  is  B,  the 


A — Y  of  the  predicate  vanishes  or  has  no  value,  and 
B  becomes  equal  to  X,  which  is  incapable  of  meas- 
urement with  A,  and,  consequently,  with  either  A — 
Y  or  Y,  which  make  up  A.  Now  if  we  combine 
this  with  another  proposition,  in  order  to  form  a  syl- 
logism, and  say  that  C  is  A,  we  find,  as  before,  that 
A=C-|-Z  ;  and,  substituting  this  value  of  A  in  the 
former  proposition,  it  appears  that  B=C+Z-)-X. 
Then,  in  the  conclusion,  we  have  C  is  B  ;  that  is,  C 
is  a  part  of  C+Z-f-X.  And  the  same  in  the  three 
other  cases  or  moods  of  the  figure.  This  seems  to 
be,  in  plainer  terms,  what  Hobbes  means  by  addition 
or  subtraction  of  parcels,  and  what  Condillac  means 
by  rather  a  lax  expression,  that  equations  and  prop- 
ositions are  at  bottom  the  same,  or,  as  he  phrases  it 
better,  "  Pevidence  de  raison  consiste  uniquement 
dans  1'identite."  If  we  add  to  this,  as  he  probably 
intended,  non-identity  as  the  condition  of  all  nega- 
tive conclusions,  it  seems  to  be  no  more  than  is  ne- 
cessarily involved  in  the  fundamental  principle  of 
syllogism,  the  dictum  de  omni  et  nullo  ;  which  may 
be  thus  reduced  to  its  shortest  terms  :  "  Whatevei 
can  be  divided  into  parts  includes  all  those  parts, 


FROM  1600  TO  1650. 


130.  A  man  may  reckon  without  the  use 
False  rea-  of  words  in  particular  things,  as 
soiling.  m  conjecturing  from  the  sight  of 


and  nothing  else."  This  is  not  limited  to  mathe- 
matical quantity,  but  includes  everything  which  ad- 
mits of  more  and  less.  Hobbes  has  a  good  passag 
in  his  Logic  on  this :  Non  putandum  est  computa- 
tion}, id  est,  ratiocination!  innumeris  tantum  locum 
esse,  tanquam  homo  a  casteris  animantibus,  quod 

[  censuisse  narratur  Pythagoras,  sola  numerandi  fac- 
ilitate distirictus  esset ;  nam  et  magnitude  magmtu- 
dini,  corpus  corpori,  motus  motui,  tempus  tempori, 
gradus  qualitatis  gradui,  actio  actioni,  conceptus 
conceptui,  proportio  proportion!,  oratio  orationi,  no- 
men  noimni,  in  qnibus  onme  philosophise  genus  con- 
tiniHur,  adjici  adimique  potest. 

But  it  does  not  follow  by  any  means  that  we 
should  assent  to  the  strange  passages  quoted  by 
Stewart  from  Condillac  and  Diderot,  which  reduce 
all  kwiwli-ili-e  to  identical  propositions.  Even  in  ge- 
ometry, -where  the  objects  are  strictly  magnitudes, 
the  countless  variety  in  which  their  relations  may 
be  exhibited  constitutes  the  riches  of  that  inex- 
haustible science  ;  and  in  moral  or  physical  propo- 
sitions, the  relation  of  quantity  between  the  subject 
and  predicate,  as  concretes,  which  enables  them  to 
be  compared,  though  it  is  the  sole  foundation  of  all 
general  deductive  reasoning  or  syllogism,  has  nothing 
to  do  with  the  other  properties  or  relations,  of  which 
we  obtain  a  knowledge  by  means  of  that  compari- 
son. In  mathematical  reasoning,  we  infer  as  to 
quantity  through  the  medium  of  quantity;  in  other 
reasoning,  we  use  the  same  medium,  but  our  infer- 
ence is  as  to  truths  which  do  not  lie  within  that 
category.  Thus,  in  the  hackneyed  instance,  All  men 
are  mortal ;  that  is,  mortal  creatures  include  men 
and  something  more,  it  is  absurd  to  assert  that  we 
only  know  that  men  are  men.  It  is  true  that  our 
knowledge  of  the  truth  of  the  proposition  comes  by 
the  help  of  this  comparison  of  men  in  the  subject 
with  men  in  the  predicate;  but  the  very  nature  of 
the  proposition  discovers  a  constant  relation  be- 
tween the  individuals  6f  the  human  species  and 
that  mortality  which  is  predicated  of  them  along 
with  others  ;  and  it  is  in  this,  not  in  an  identical 
equation,  as  Diderot  seerns  to  have  thought,  that 
our  knowledge  consists. 

The  remarks  of  Stewart's  friend,  M.  Prevost  of 
Geneva,  on  the  principle  of  identity  as  the  basis  of 
mathematical  science,  and  which  the  former  has 

.  candidly  subjoined  to  his  own  volume,  appear  to  me 
very  satisfactory.  Stewart  comes  to  admit  that  the 
dispute  is  nearly  verbal ;  but  we  cannot  say  that  he 
originally  treated  it  as  such ;  and  the  principle  it- 

;  Belf,  both  as  applied  to  geometry  and  to  logic,  is,  in 
my  opinion,  of  some  importance  to  the  clearness  of 
our  conceptions  as  to  those  sciences.  It  may  be 
added,  that  Stewart's  objection  to  the  principle  of 
identity  as  the  basis  of  geometrical  reasoning  is  less 
forcible  in  its  application  to  syllogism.  He  is  will- 
ing to  admit  that  magnitudes  capable  of  coincidence 
by  immediate  superposition  may  be  reckoned  iden- 
tical, but  scruples  to  apply  such  a  word  to  those 
which  are  dissimilar  in  figure,  as  the  rectangles  of 
the  means  and  extremes  of  four  proportional  lines. 
Neither  one  nor  the  other  are,  in  fact,  identical  as 
real  quantities,  the  former  being  necessarily  conceiv- 
ed to  differ  from  each  other  by  position  in  space  as 
much  as  the  latter  ;  so  that  the  expression  he  quotes 
from  Aristotle,  ev  rourot?  ij  norm  ivory;,  or  any  sim- 
ilar one  of  modern  mathematicians,  can  only  refer 
to  the  abstract  magnitude  of  their  areas,  which  be- 
ing divisible  into  the  same  number  of  equal  parts, 
they  are  called  the  same.  And  there  seems  no  real  j 
difference  in  this  respect  between  two  circles  of 


anything  what  is  like.y  to  follow ;  and  if 
he  reckons  wrong,  it  is  error.  But  in  rea- 
soning on  general  words,  to  fall  on  a  false 
inference  is  not  error,  though  often  so  call- 
ed, but  absurdity.*  "  If  a  man  should  talk 
to  me  of  a  round  quadrangle,  or  accidents 
of  bread  in  cheese,  or  immaterial  substan- 
ces, or  of  free  subject,  a  free  will,  or  any 
free,  but  free  from  being  hindered  by  op- 
position, I  should  not  say  he  were  in  error, 
but  that  his  words  were  without  meaning, 
that  is  to  say,  absurd."  Some  of  these 
propositions,  it  will  occur,  are  intelligible 
in  a  reasonable  sense,  and  not  contradic- 
tory, except  by  means  of  an  arbitrary  def- 
inition, which  he  who  employs  them  does 
not  admit.  It  will  be  observed  here,  as 


equal  radii  and  two  such  rectangles  as  are  supposed 
above,  the  identity  of  their  magnitudes  being  a  dis- 
tinct truth,  independent  of  any  consideration  either 
of  their  figure  or  their  position.  But,  however 
this  may  be,  the  identity  of  the  subject  with  part 
of  the  predicate  in  an  affirmative  proposition  is  nev- 
er fictitious,  but  real.  It  means  that  the  persons  or 
things  in  the  one  are  strictly  the  same  beings  with 
the  persons  or  things  to  which  they  are  compared 
in  the  other,  though,  through  some  difference  of  re- 
lations or  other  circumstance,  they  are  expressed  in 
different  language.  It  is  needless  to  give  examples, 
as  all  those  who  can  read  this  note  at  all  will  know 
how  to  find  them. 

I  will  here  take  the  liberty  to  remark,  though  not 
closely  connected  with  the  present  subject,  that 
Archbishop  Wh'iteley  seems  not  quite  right  in  say- 
ing (Elements  of  Logic,  p.  4U)  that  in  affirmative 
propositions  the  predicate  is  never  distributed.  Be- 
sides the  numerous  instances  where  this  is,  in  point 
of  fact,  the  case,  all  which  he  excludes,  there  are* 
many  in  which  it  is  involved  in  the  very  form  of  the 
proposition.  Such  are  all  those  which  assert  iden- 
tity or  equality,  and  such  also  are  all  those  particu- 
lar affirmations  which  have  previously  been  convert- 
ed from  universals.  Of  the  first  sort  are  all  the  the- . 
orems  in  geometry,  asserting  an  equality  of  magni- 
tudes or  ratios,  in  which  the  subject  and  predicate 
may  always  change  places.  It  is  true  that  in  the  in- 
stance given  in  the  work  quoted,  that  equilateral 
triangles  are  equiangular,  the  converse  requires  a 
separate  proof,  and  so  in  many  similar  cases.  But 
in  these  the  predicate  is  not  distributed  by  the  form 
of  the  proposition ;  they  assert  no  equality  of  mag- 
nitude. 

The  position,  that  where  such  equality  is  affirm- 
ed, the  predicate  is  not  logically  distributed,  would 
lead  to  the  consequence  that  it  can  only  be  converted 
into  a  particular  affirmation.  Thus,  after  proving 
that  the  square  of  the  hypothenuse,  in  all  right- 
angled  triangles,  is  equal  to  those  of  the  sides, 
we  could  only  infer  that  the  squares  of  the  sides 
are  sometimes  equal  to  that  of  the  hypothenuse, 
which  could  not  be  maintained  without  rendering 
the  rules  of  logic  ridiculous.  The  most  general 
mode  of  considering  the  question  is  to  say,  as  we 
have  done  above,  that  in  a  universal  affirmative, 
the  predicate  B  (that  is,  the  class  of  which  B  is 
predicated)  is  composed  of  A  the  subject,  and  X  an 
unknown  remainder.  But  if,  by  the  very  nature  of 
the  proposition,  we  perceive  that  X  is  nothing  or 
has  no  value,  it  is  plain  that  the  subject  measures 
the  entire  predicate,  and  vice  versa,  the  predicate 
measures  the  subject ;  in  other  words,  each  is  taken 
universally,  or  distributed.  *  Lev.  r.  5 


112 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


we  have  done  before,  that  Hobbes  does 
not  confine  reckoning  or  reasoning  to  uni- 
versals,  or  even  to  words. 

131.  Man  has  the  exclusive  privilege 
of  forming  general  theorems. 

Its  frequency.   ^^  ^&  pr{viiege  js  allayed  by 

another,  that  is,  by  the  privilege  of  ab- 
surdity, to  which  no  living  creature  is 
subject,  but  man  only.  And  of  men  those 
are  of  all  men  most  subject  to  it  that 
profess  philosophy.  •  •  •  For  there  is  not 
one  that  begins  his  ratiocination  from  the 
definitions  or  explications  of  the  names 
they  are  to  use,  which  is  a  method  used 
only  in  geometry,  whose  conclusions  have 
thereby  been  made  indisputable.  He  then 
enumerates  seven  causes  of  absurd  con- 
clusions ;  the  first  of  which  is  the  want  of 
definitions,  the  others  are  erroneous  impo- 
sition of  names.  If  we  can  avoid  these 
errors,  it  is  not  easy  to  fall  into  absurdity 
(by  \vhich  he,  of  course,  only  means  any 
wrong  conclusion),  except,  perhaps,  by  the 
length  of  a  reasoning.  "  For  all  men," 
he  says,  "by  nature  reason  alike,  and 
well,  when  they  have  good  principles. 
Hence  it  appears  that  reason  is  not,  as 
sense  and  memory,  born  with  us,  nor  got- 
ten by  experience  only,  as  prudence  is, 
but  attained  by  industry,  in  apt  imposing 
of  names,  and  in  getting  a  good  and  or- 
derly method  of  proceeding  from  the  ele- 
ments to  assertions,  and  so  to  syllogisms. 
Children  are  not  endued  with  reason  at 
all  till  they  'have  attained  the  use  of 
speech,  but  are  called  reasonable  crea- 
tures for  the  possibility  of  having  the  use 
of  reason  hereafter.  And  reasoning  serves 
the  generality  of  mankind  very  little, 
though,  with  their  natural  prudence  with- 
out science  they  are  in  better  condition 
than  those  who  reason  ill  themselves,  or 
trust  those  who  have  done  so."*  It  has 
been  observed  by  Buhle,  that  Hobbes  had 
more  respect  for  the  Aristotelian  forms  of 
logic  than  his  master  Bacon.  He  has,  in 
fact,  written  a  short  treatise,  in  his  Ele- 
menta  Philosophise,  on  the  subject ;  ob- 
serving, however,  therein,  that  a  true  logic 
wrill  be  sooner  learned  by  attending  to  ge- 
ometrical demonstrations  than  by  drudg- 
ing over  the  rules  of  syllogism,  as  chil- 
dren learn  to  walk,  not  by  precept,  but  by 
habit,  f 

*  Id.  ibid. 

t  Citius  multo  veram  logicam  discunt  qui  math- 
ematicorum  demonstrationibus, quam  qui  logicorum 
syllogizandi  prseceptis  legendis  tempus  conterurit, 
hand  alitBr  quam  parvuli  pueri  gressutn  formare  dis- 
cnnt  non  praeceptis  sed  saepe  gradiendo. — C.  iv.,  p. 
30.  Atque  haec  sufficiunt  (he  says  afterward),  de  syl- 
logismo,  qui  est  tanquam  gressus  philosophise ;  nam 
et  quantum  necesse  est  ad  cognpscendum  Qndevim 
suam  habeat  omnis  argumentatio  legitima,  tantum 


132.  "  No  discourse  whatever,"  he  says 
truly  in  the  seventh  chapter  of  Know]e(,geof 
the  Leviathan,  "  can  end  in  ab-  fact  not  den- 
solute  knowledge  of  fact  past  ^inf™m  rea" 
or   to   come.      For  as   to  the 
knowledge  of  fact,  it  is  originally  sense  ; 
and  ever  after  memory.      And   for  the 
knowledge  of  consequences,  which  I  have 
said  before  is  called  science,  it  is  not  abso- 
lute, but  conditional.     No  man  can  know 
by  discourse  that  this  or  that  is,  has  been, 
or  will  be,  which  is  to  know  absolutely ; 
but  only  that  if  this  is,  that  is  ;  if  this  has 
been,  that  has  been  ;  if  this  shall  be,  that 
shall  be  ;  which  is  to  know  conditionally, 
and  that  not  the  consequence  of  one  thing 
to  another,  but  of  one  name  of  a  thing  to 
another  name  of  the  same  thing.     And, 
therefore,  when  the  discourse  is  put  into 
speech,  and  begins  with  the  definitions  of 
words,  and  proceeds  by  connexion  of  the 
same  into   general   affirmations,  and    of 
those  again  into   syllogisms,  the  end  or 
last  sum  is  called  the  conclusion,  and  the 
thought  of  the  mind  by  it  signified  is  that 
conditional  knowledge  of  the  consequence 
of  words  which  is  commonly  called  sci- 
ence.    But  if  the  first  ground  of  such  dis- 
course be  not  definitions,  or  if  definitions 
be  not   rightly  joined  together  in  syllo- 
gisms, then  the  end  or  conclusion  is  again 
opinion,  namely,  of  the  truth  of  somewhat 
said,   though    sometimes  in  absurd    and 
senseless  words,  without  possibility  of  be- 
ing understood."* 

133.  "  Belief,  which  is  the  admitting  of 
propositions  upon  trust,*in  many  ca- 

ses  is  no  less  free  from  doubt  than 
perfect  and  manifest  knowledge  ;  for  as 
there  is  nothing  whereof  there  is  not 
some  cause,  there  must  be  some  cause 
thereof  conceived.  Now  there  be  many 
things  which  we  receive  from  the  report 
of  others,  of  which  it  is  impossible  to  im- 
agine any  cause  of  doubt  ;  for  what  can 
be  opposed  against  the  consent  of  all  men, 
in  things  they  can  know  and  have  no 
cause  to  report  otherwise  than  they  are, 
such  as  is  great  part  of  our  histories,  un- 
less a  man  would  say  that  all  the  world 
had  conspired  to  deceive  him  T'f  What- 
ever w^  believe  on  the  authority  of  the 
speaker,  he  is  the  object  of  our  faith. 
Consequently,  when  we  believe  that  the 
Scriptures  arc  the  word  of  God,  having 
no  immediate  revelation  from  God  him- 

diximus;  et  omnia  accumulare  qu?R  dici  possnnt, 
seque  superflunm  esset  ac  si  qnis  ut  dixi  puerulo  ad 
gradiendum  pnecepta  dare  velit ;  acquiritur  enim 
ratiocinandi  ars  non  praeceptis  sed  usu  et  lectione 
eorum  librorum  in  quibus  omnia  sevens  demon- 
strationibus transiguntur. — C.  v.,  p.  35. 
*  Lev.,  c.  7.  f  Hum.  Nat.,  c.  6. 


FROM  1600  TO  1650. 


113 


self,  our  belief,  faith,  and  trust  is  in  th 
Church,  whose  word  we  take,  and  ac 
quiesce  therein.  Hence  all  we  believe  01 
the  authority  cf  me,n,  whether  they  b 
sent  from  God  or  not,  is  faith  in  men  only. 
We  have  no  certain  knowledge  of  th( 
truth  of  Scripture,  but  trust  the  holy  mei 
of  God's  Church  succeeding  one  anothe 
from  the  time  of  those  who  saw  the  won 
drous  works  of  God  Almighty  in  the  flesh 
And  as  we  believe  the  Scriptures  to  be 
the  word  uf  God  on  the  authority  of  the 
Church,  the  interpretation  of  the  Scrip- 
ture in  case  of  controversy  ought  to  be 
trusted  to  the  Church  rather  than  private 
opinion. f 

134.  The  ninth  chapter  of  the  Leviathar 
chart  of  contains  a  synoptical  chart  of  hu- 
science.  mau  science,  or  "  knowledge  of  con- 
sequences," also  called  philosophy.     He 
divides  it  into  natural  and  civil :  the  for- 
mer  into    consequences   from   accidents 
common  to  all  bodies,  quantity  and  mo- 
tion, and  those  from  qualities,  otherwise 
called  physics.     The  first  includes  astron- 
omy, mechanics,  architecture,  as  well  as 
mathematics.     The  second  he  distinguish- 
es  into  consequences  from  qualities   of 
bodies  transient,  or  meteorology,  and  from 
'hose  of  bodies   permanent,  such  as  the 
stars,  the  atmosphere,  or  terrestrial  bod- 
ies.    The  last  are  divided  again  into  those 
without  sense  and  those  with  sense  ;  and 
these  into  animals  and  men.     In  the  con- 
sequences from  the  qualities  of  animals 
generaltyhe  reckons  optics  and  music;  in 
those  from   men  we   find  ethics,  poetry, 
rhetoric,  and  logic.    These  altogether  con- 
stitute the  first  great  head  of  natural  phi- 
losophy.    In  the  second,  or  civil  philoso- 
phy, he  includes   nothing  but  the  rights 
and  duties  of  sovereigns  and  their  sub- 
jects.    This  chart  of  human  knowledge  is 
one  of  the  worst  that  has  been  propound- 
ed, and  falls  much  below  that  of  Bacon. J 
135. 'This  is  the  substance  of  the  phi- 
Anaiysis  of  losophy  of  Hobbes,  so  far  as  it 
passions,      relates  to  the  intellectual  facul- 
ties, and  especially  to  that  of  reasoning. 
In  the  seventh  and  two  following  chapters 
of  the  treatise  on  Human  Nature,  in  the 
ninth  and  tenth  of  the  Leviathan,  he  pro- 
ceeds to  the  analysis  of   the   passions. 
The  motion  in  some  internal  substance  of 
the  head,  if  it  does  not  stop  there,  pro- 
ducing mere  conceptions,  proceeds  to  the 
heart,  helping  or  hindering  the  vital  mo- 
tions, which  he   distinguishes   from   the 
voluntary,  exciting  in  us  pleasant  or  pain- 
ful affections,  called  passions.     We  are 


*  Lev.,  c.  7. 
t  Lev.,  c.  9. 
VOL.  II.— P 


fHum.  Nat.,  c.l  1. 


solicited  by  these  to  draw  near  to  that 
which  pleases  us,  and  the  contrary.  Hence 
pleasure,  love,  appetite,  desire,  are  divers 
names  for  divers  considerations  of  the 
same  thing.  As  all  conceptions  we  have 
immediately  by  the  sense  are  delight,  or 
pain,  or  appetite,  or  fear,  so  are  all  the 
imaginations  after  sense.  But,  as  they 
are  weaker  imaginations,  so  are  they  also 
weaker  pleasures  or  weaker  pains.*  -All 
delight  is  appetite,  and  presupposes  a  far- 
ther end.  There  is  no  utmost  end  in  this 
world ;  for  while  we  live  we  have  desires, 
and  desire  presupposes  a  farther  end.  We 
are  not,  therefore,  to  wonder  that  men 
desire  more  the  more  they  possess  ;  for 
felicity,  by  which  we  mean  continual  de- 
light, consists  not  in  having  prospered, 
but  in  prospering.!  Each  passion  being, 
as  he  fancies,  a  continuation  of  the  mo- 
tion which  gives  rise  to  a  peculiar  con- 
ception, is  associated  with  it.  They  all, 
except  such  as  are  immediately  connected 
with  sense,  consist  in  the  conception  of  a 
power  to  produce  some  effect.  To  hon- 
our a  man  is  to  conceive  that  he  has  an 
excess  of  power  over  some  one  with 
whom  he  is  compared ;  hence  qualities 
indicative  of  power,  and  actions  signifi- 
cant of  it,  are  honourable  ;  riches  are  hon- 
oured as  signs  of  power,  and  nobility  is 
lonourable  as  a  sign  of  power  in  anees- 
;ors.J 

136.  "The  constitution  of  man's  body 
s  in  perpetual  mutation,  and  Gooii  and 
icnce  it  is  impossible  that  all  evil  relative 
the  same  things  should  always  terins- 
ause  in  him  the  same  appetites  and  aver- 
sions ;  much  less  can  all  men  consent  in 
he  desire  of  any  one  object.  But  what- 
soever is  the  object  of  any  man's  appetite 
or  desire,  that  is  it  which  he,  for  his  part, 
?alls  good ;  and  the  object  of  his  hate  and 
iversion,  evil,  or  of  his  contempt,  vile  and 
nconsiderable.  For  these  words  of  good, 
jvil,  and  contemptible  are  ever  used  with 
elation  to  the  person  using  them,  there 
teing  nothing  simply  and  absolutely  so ; 
lor  any  common  rule  of  good  and  evil,  to 
e  taken  from  the  nature  of  the  objects 
hemselves,  but  from  the  person  of  the 
nan  where  there  is  no  commonwealth, 
r  in  a  commonwealth  from  the  person 
hat  represents  us,  or  from  an  arbitrator 
>r  judge,  whom  men  disagreeing  shall  by 
onsent  set  up,  and  make  his  sentence  the 
ule  thereof."^ 

137.  In  prosecuting  this  analysis,  all  the 
assions  are  resolved  into  self-love,  His  para- 
he  pleasure  we  take  in  our  own  doxes- 


*  Hum.  Nat.,  c.  7. 
t  Hum.  Nat.,  c.  8. 


t  Id.,  Lev.,  c.  11. 
$  Lev.,  c.  8. 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


power,  the  pain  we  suffer  in  wanting  it. 
Some  of  his  explications  are  very  forced. 
Thus,  weeping  is  said  to  be  from  a  sense 
of  our  want  of  power.  And  here  comes 
one  of  his  strange  paradoxes.  "  Men  are 
apt  to  weep  that  prosecute  revenge,  when 
the  revenge  is  suddenly  stopped  or  frus- 
trated by  the  repentance  of  their  adversa- 
ry ;  and  such  are  the  tears  of  reconcilia- 
tion."* So  resolute  was  he  to  resort  to 
anything  the  most  preposterous,  rather 
than  admit  a  moral  feeling  in  human  na- 
ture. His  account  of  laughter  is  better 
known,  and  perhaps  more  probable,  though 
not  explaining  the  whole  of  the  case.  Af- 
ter justly  observing  that  whatsoever  it  be 
that  moves  laughter,  it  must  be  new  and 
unexpected,  he  defines  it  to  be  "  a  sudden 
glory  arising  from  a  sudden  conception  of 
some  eminency  in  ourselves,  by  compari- 
son with  the  infirmity  of  others,  or  with 
our  own  formerly,  for  men  laugh  at  the 
follies  of  themselves  past."  It  might  be 
objected,  that  those  are  most  prone  to 
laughter  who  have  least  of  this  glorying 
in  themselves,  or  undervaluing  of  their 
neighbours. 

138.  •'  There  is  a  great  difference  be- 
His  notion  tween  the  desire  of  a  man  when 
of  love.  indefinite,  and  the  same  desire 
limited  to  one  person ;  and  this  is  that 
love  which  is  the  great  theme  of  poets. 
But,  notwithstanding  their  praises,  it  must 
be  defined  by  the  word  need ;  for  it  is  a 
conception  a  man  hath  of  his  need  of  that 
one  person  desired."!  "  There  is  yet  an- 
other passion  sometimes  called  love,  but 
more  properly  good-will  or  charity.  There 
can  be  no  greater  argument  to  a  man  of 
his  own  power  than  to  find  himself  able 
not  only  to  accomplish  his  own  desires, 
but  also  to  assist  other  men  in  theirs  ; 
and  this  is  that  conception  wherein  con- 
sists charity.  In  which  first  is  contained 
that  natural  affection  of  parents  towards 
their  children  which  the  Greeks  call  0-1-0/3777, 
as  also  that  affection  wherewith  men  seek 
to  assist  those  that  adhere  unto  them.  But 
the  affection  wherewith  men  many  times 
bestow  their  benefits  on  strangers  is  not 
to  be  called  charity,  but  either  contract, 
whereby  they  seek  to  purchase  friendship, 
or  fear,  which  makes  them  to  purchase 
peace. "t  This  is  equally  contrary  to  no- 
torious truth,  there  being  neither  fear  nor 
contract  in  generosity  towards  strangers. 
It  is,  however,  not  so  extravagant  as  a 
subsequent  position,  that  in  beholding  the 
danger  of  a  ship  in  a  tempest,  though 
there  is  pity,  which  is  grief,  yet  "the 

*  Hum.  Nat.,  c.  9.    Lev.,  c.  6  and  10. 

t  Hum  Nat.,  c.  9.  J  Id.  ibid. 


delight  in  our  own  security  is  so  far  pre- 
dominant, that  men  are  usually  content,  in 
such  a  case,  to  be  spectators  of  the  mis- 
ery of  their  friends."* 

139.  As  knowledge  begins  from  experi- 
ence, new  experience  is  the  be-  _ 

•          /•  i  IT         -iit-i     i     Curiosity. 

ginning  of  new  knowledge.  vV  hat- 
ever,  therefore,  happens  new  to  a  man, 
gives  him  the  hope  of  knowing  somewhat 
he  knew  not  before.  This  appetite  of 
knowledge  is  curiosity.  It  is  peculiar  to 
man  ;  for  beasts  never  regard  new  things 
except  to  discern  how  far  they  may  be 
useful,  while  man  looks  for  the  cause  and 
beginning  of  all  he  sees.f  This  attribute 
of  curiosity  seems  rather  hastily  denied 
to  beasts.  And  as  men,  he  says,  are  al- 
ways seeking  new  knowledge,  so  are  they 
always  deriving  some  new  gratification. 
There  is  no  such  thing  as  perpetual  tran- 
quillity of  mind  while  we  live  here,  be- 
cause life  itself  is  but  motion,  and  can 
never  be  without  desire,  nor  without  fear, 
no  more  than  without  sense.  "  What 
kind  of  felicity  God  hath  ordained  to  them 
that  devoutly  honour  him,  a  man  shall  no 
sooner  know  than  enjoy,  being  joys  that 
now  are  as  incomprehensible  as  the  word 
of  schoolmen,  beatifical  vision,  is  unintel- 
ligible.'t 

140.  From  the  consideration  of  the  pas- 
sions Hobbes  advances  to  in-  Difference  of 
quire  what  are  the  causes  of  the  intellectual 
difference  in  the  intellectual  ca-  caPilcities- 
pacities  and  dispositions  of  men.$    Their 
bodily  senses  are  nearly  alike,  whence  he 
precipitately  infers  there  can  be  no  great 
difference  in  the  brain.     Yet  men  differ 
much  in  their  bodily  constitution,  whence 
he  derives  the  principal  differences  in  their 
minds ;  some,  being  addicted  to  sensual 
pleasures,  are  less  curious  as  to  knowl- 
edge or  ambitious  as  to  power.     This  is 
called  dulness,  and  proceeds  from  the  ap- 
petite of  bodily  delight.     The  contrary  to 
this  is  a  quick  ranging  of  mind,  accompa- 
nied with  curiosity  in  comparing  things 
that  come  into  it,  either  as  to  unexpected 
similitude,  in  which  fancy  consists,  or  dis- 
similitude in  things  appearing  the  same, 
which  is  properly  called  judgment ;  "  for 
to  judge  is  nothing  else  but  to  distinguish 
and  discern.     And  both  fancy  and  judg- 
ment are  commonly  comprehended  under 
the  name  of  wit,  which  seems  to  be  a  te- 
nuity and  agility  of  spirits  contrary  to 
that  restiness  of  the  spirits  supposed  in 
those  who  are  dull."|| 


*  Hum.  Nat.,  c.  9.  This  is  an  exaggeration  of 
some  well-known  lines  of  Lucretius,  which  are 
themselves  exaggerated. 

t  Id.  ibid.  J  Lev.,  c.  6  and  c.  11. 

<j  Hum.  Nat ,  c.  10.         H  Id.  ibid. 


FROM  1600  TO  1650. 


115 


141.  We  call  it  levity  when  the  mind  is 
easily  diverted  and  the  discourse  is  paren- 
thetical ;  and  this  proceeds  from  curiosity, 
with  too  much  equality  and  indifference ; 
for,  when  all  things  make  equal  impression 
and  delight,  they  equally  throng  to  be  ex- 
pressed.    A  different  fault  is  indocibility, 
or  difficulty  of  being  taught ;  which  must 
arise  from  a  false  opinion  that  men  know 
already  the  truth  of  what  is  called  in  ques- 
tion ;  for  certainly  they  are  not  otherwise 
so  unequal  in  capacity  as  not  to  discern 
the  difference  of  what  is  proved  and  what 
is  not ;  and,  therefore,  if  the  minds  of  men 
were  all  of  white  paper,  they  would  all 
most  equally  be  disposed  to  acknowledge 
whatever  should  be  in  right  method,  and 
by  right  ratiocination  delivered  to  them. 
But  when  men  have  once-  acquiesced  in 
untrue  opinions,  and  registered  them  as 
authentical  records  in  their  minds,  it  is 
no  less  impossible  to  speak  intelligibly  to 
such  men  than  to  write  legibly  on  a  paper 
already  scribbled  over.     The  immediate 
cause,  therefore,  of  indocibility  is  preju- 
dice, and  of  prejudice  false  opinion  of  our 
own  knowledge.* 

142.  Intellectual  virtues  are  such  abili- 
wit  and  ties  as  go  by  the  name  of  a  good 
fancy.      wit.  which  may  be  natural  or  ac- 
quired.    "  By  natural  wit,"  says  Hobbes, 
"  I  mean  not  that  which  a  man  hath  from 
his  birth,  for  that  is  nothing  else  but  sense  ; 
wherein  men  differ  so  little  from  one  an- 
other, and  from  brute  beasts,  as  it  is  not 
to  be   reckoned  among  virtues.      But  I 
mean  that  wit  which  is  gotten  by  use 
only  and  experience,  without  method,  cul- 
ture, or  instruction,  and  consists  chiefly 
in  celerity  of  imagining  and  steady  direc- 
tion.    And  the  difference  in  this  quickness 
is  caused  by  that  of  men's  passions,  that 
love  and  dislike,  some  one  thing,  some  an- 
other, and  therefore  some  men's  thoughts 
run  one  way,  some  another ;  and  are  held 
to,  and  observe  differently  the  things  that 
pass  through  their  imagination."     Fancy 
is  not  praised  without  judgment  and  dis- 
cretion, which  is  properly  a  discerning  of 
times,  places,  and  persons  ;  but  judgment 
and  discretion  is  commended  for  itself 
without  fancy  :  without  steadiness  and  di- 
rection to  some  end,  a  great  fancy  is  one 
kind  of  madness,  such  as  they  have  who 
lose  themselves  in  long  digressions  and 
parentheses.     If  the  defect  of  discretion 
be  apparent,  how  extravagant  soever  the 
fancy  be,  the  whole  discourse  will  be  ta- 
ken for  a  want  of  wit.f 

143.  The  causes  of  the  difference  of 
wits  are  in  the  passions ;  and  the  differ- 


*  Hum.  Nat. 


t  Lev.,  c.  8. 


ence  of  passions  proceeds  partly  Difference8 
from  the  different  constitution  of  in  the  paa- 
the  body,  and  partly  from  differ-  sions- 
ent  education.  Those  passions  are  chiefly 
the  desire  of  power,  riches,  knowledge,  or 
honour;  all  which  may  be  reduced  to  the 
first,  for  riches,  knowledge,  and  honour 
are  but  several  sorts  of  power.  He  who 
has  no  great  passion  for  any  of  these, 
though  he  may  be  so  far  a  good  man  as  to 
be  free  from  giving  offence,  yet  cannot 
possibly  have  either  a  great  fancy  or  much 
judgment.  To  have  weak  passions  k: 
dulness  ;  to  have  passions  indifferently  for 
everything,  giddiness  and  distraction ;  to 
have  stronger  passions  for  anything  than 
others  have  is  madness.  Madness 
may  be  the  excess  of  many  pas- 
sions ;  and  the  passions  themselves,  when 
they  lead  to  evil,  are  degrees  of  it.  He 
seems  to  have  had  some  glimpse  of  But- 
ler's hypothesis  as  to  the  madness  of  a 
whole  people.  "  What  argument  for  mad- 
ness can  there  be  greater  than  to  clamour, 
strike,  and  throw  stones  at  our  best 
friends  ?  Yet  this  is  somewhat  less  than 
such  a  multitude  will  do.  For  they  will 
clamour,  fight  against,  and  destroy  those 
by  whom  all  their  lifetime  before  they 
have  been  protected  and  secured  from  in- 
jury. And,  if  this  be  madness  in  the  mul- 
titude, it  is  the  same  in  every  particular 
man."* 

144.  There  is  a  fault  in  some  men's 
habit  of  discoursing  which  may  unmeaning 
be  reckoned  a  sort  of  madness,  language, 
which  is  when  they  speak  words  with  no 
signification  at  all.  "  And  this  is  incident 
to  none  but  those  that  converse  in  ques- 
tions of  matters  incomprehensible  as  the 
schoolmen,  or  in  questions  of -abstruse 
philosophy.  The  common  sort  of  men 
seldom  speak  insignificantly,  and  are,  there- 
fore, by  those  other  egregious  persons 
counted  idiots.  But  to  be  assured  their 
words  are  without  anything  correspondent 
to  them  in  the  mind,  there  would  need 
some  examples ;  which,  if  any  man  require, 
let  him  take  a  schoolman  into  his  hands, 
and  see  if  he  can  translate  any  one  chap- 
ter concerning  any  difficult  point,  as  the 
Trinity,  the  Deity,  the  nature  of  Christ, 
transubstantiation,  free-will,  &c.,  into  any 
of  the  modern  tongues,  so  as  to  make  the 
same  intelligible,  or  into  any  tolerable 
Latin,  such  as  they  were  acquainted  with 
that  lived  when  the  Latin  tongue  was  vul- 
gar." And,  after  quoting  some  words  from 
Suarez,  he  adds  :  "  When  men  write  whole 
volumes  of  such  stuff,  are  they  not  mad. 
or  intend  to  make  others  so  V'f 


*  Lev.,  c.  8. 


t  Lev. 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


145.  The  eleventh  chapter  of  the  Levia- 
than, on   manners,  by  which  he 

Manners.  means  those  qualities  of  mankind 
which  concern  their  living  together  in 
peace  and  unity,  is  full  of  Hobbes's  caus- 
tic remarks  on  human  nature.  Often 
acute,  but  always  severe,  he  ascribes  over- 
much to  a  deliberate  and  calculating  self- 
ishness. -  Thus  the  reverence  of  antiquity 
is  referred  to  "  the  contention  men  have 
with  tiie  living,  not  with  the  dead  ;  to  these 
ascribing  more  than  due,  that  they  may  ob- 
scure the  glory  of  the  other."  Thus,  "  to 
have  received  from  one  to  whom  we  think 
ourselves  equal,  greater  benefits  than  we 
can  hope  to  requite,  disposes  to  counterfeit 
love,  but  really  to  secret  hatred,  and  puts 
a  man  into  the  estate  of  a  desperate  debt- 
or, that,  in  declining  the  sight  of  his  cred- 
itor, tacitly  wishes  him  where  he  might 
never  see  him  more.  For  benefits  oblige, 
and  obligation  is  thraldom ;  and  unrequi- 
table obligation  perpetual  thraldom,  which 
is  to  one's  equal  hateful."  He  owns,  how- 
ever, that  to  have  received  benefits  from 
a  superior  disposes  us  to  love  him ;  and 
so  it  does  where  we  can  hope  to  requite 
even  an  equal.  If  these  maxims  have  a 
certain  basis  of  truth,  they  have  at  least 
the  fault  of  those  of  Rochefoucault ;  they 
are  made  too  generally  characteristic  of 
mankind. 

146.  Ignorance  of  the  signification  of 
ignorances  words  disposes  men  to  take  on 
and  preju-  trust  not  only  the  truth  they  know 

not,  but  also  errors  and  nonsense. 
For  neither  can  be  detected  without  a  per- 
fect understanding  of  words.  "  But  igno- 
rance of  the  causes  and  original  constitu- 
tion of  right,,  equity,  law,  and  justice,  dis- 
poses a  man  to  make  custom  and  example 
the  rule  of  his  actions,  in  such  manner  as 
to  think  that  unjust  which  it  has  been  the 
custom  to  punish,  and  that  just,  of  the  im- 
punity and  approbation  of  which  they  can 
produce  an  example,  or,  as  the  lawyers, 
which  only  use  this  false  measure  of  jus- 
tice, barbarously  call  it,  a  precedent." 
"  Men  appeal  from  custom  to  reason  and 
from  reason  to  custom  as  it  serves  their 
turn,  receding  from  custom  when  their  in- 
terest requires  it,  and  setting  themselves 
against  reason  as  oft  as  reason  is  against 
them ;  which  is  the  cause  that  the  doc- 
trine of  right  and  wrong  is  perpetually 
disputed  both  by  the  pen  and  the  sword  ; 
whereas  the  doctrine  of  lines  and  figures 
is  not  so,  because  men  care  not  in  that 
subject  what  is  truth,  as  it  is  a  thing  that 
crosses  no  man's  ambition,  profit,  or  lust. 
For  I  doubt  not  but  if  it  had  been  a  thing 
contrary  to  any  man's  right  of  dominion, 
or  to  the  interest  of  men  that  have  do- 


minion, that  the  three  angles  of  a  triangie 
should  be  equal  to  two  angles  of  a  square, 
that  doctrine  should  have  been,  if  not  dis- 
puted, yet,  by  the  burning  of  all  books  of 
geometry,  suppressed,  as  far  as  he  whom 
it  concerned  was  able."*  This  excellent 
piece  of  satire  has  been  often  quoted,  and 
sometimes  copied,  and  does  not  exagger- 
ate the  pertinacity  of  mankind  in  resisting 
the  evidence  of  truth,  when  it  thwarts  the 
interests  and  passions  of  any  particular 
sect  or  community.  In  the  earlier  part 
of  the  paragraph  it  seems  not  so  easy  to 
reconcile  what  Hobbes  has  said  with  his 
general  notions  of  right  and  justice  ;  since, 
if  these  resolve  themselves,  as  is  his 
theory,  into  mere  force,  there  can  be  little 
appeal  to  reason,  or  to  anything  else  than 
custom  and  precedent,  which  are  com- 
monly the  exponents  of  power. 

147.  In  the  conclusion  of  this  chapter 
of  the  Leviathan,  as  well  as  in  His  theory 
the  next,  he  dwells  more  on  the  of  religion. 
nature  of  religion  than  he  had  done  in  the 
former  treatise,  and  so  as  to  subject  him- 
self to  the  imputation  of  absolute  atheism, 
or,  at  least,  of  a  denial  of  most  attributes 
which  we  assign  to  the  Deity.     Curiosity 
about  causes,  he  says,  led  men  to  search 
out  one  after  the  other,  till  they  came  to 
this  necessary  conclusion,  that  there  is 
some  eternal  cause  which  men  call  God. 
But  they  have  no  more  idea  of  his  nature 
than  a  blind  man  has  of  fire,  though  he 
knows  that  there  is  something  that  warms 
him.     So,  by  the   visible   things  of  this 
world  and  their  admirable  order,  a  man 
may  conceive  there  is  a  cause  of  them, 
which  men  call  God,  and  yet  not  have  an 
idea  or  image  of  him  in  his  mind.     And 
they  that  make  little  inquiry  into  the  natu- 
ral causes  of  things  are  inclined  to  feign 
several  kinds  of  powers  invisible,  and  to 
stand  in  awe  of  their  own  imaginations. 
And  this   fear  of  things  invisible  is  the 
natural  seed  of  that  which  every  one  in 
himself  calleth  religion,  and  in  them  that 
worship  or  fear  that  power  otherwise  than 
they  do,  superstition. 

148.  A.S  God  is  incomprehensible,  it  fol- 
lows that  we  can  have  no  conception  or 
image  of  the  Deity ;  and,  consequently,  all 
his  attributes  signify  our  inability  or  de- 
fect of  power  to  conceive  anything  con- 
cerning his  nature,  and  not  any  conception 
of  the  same,  excepting  only  this,  that  there 
is  a  God.     Men  that  by  their  own  medita- 
tion arrive   at   the   acknowledgment  of 
one  infinite,  omnipotent,  and  eternal  God, 
choose  rather  to  confess  this  is  incom- 
prehensible and  above  their  understand- 


*  Lev.,  c.  11. 


FROM  1600  TO  1650 


117 


ing,  than  to  define  his  nature  by  spirit  in- 
corporeal, and  then  to  confess  their  defini- 
tion to  be  unintelligible.*  For  concerning 
such  spirits  he  holds  that  it  is  not  possible, 
by  natural  means  only,  to  come  to  the 
knowledge  of  so  much  as  that  there  are 
such  things. f 

149.  Religion   he  derives   from   three 
its  supposed  sources,  the  desire  of  men  to 
sources.       search  for  causes,  the  reference 
of  everything  that  has  a  beginning  to  some 
cause,  and  the  observation  of  the  order 
and  consequence  of  things.     But  the  two 
former  lead  to  anxiety ;  for  the  knowledge 
that  there  have  been  causes  of  the  effects 
we  see,  leads  us  to  anticipate  that  they 
will  in  time  be  the  causes  of  effects  to 
come ;  so  that  every  marr,  especially  such 
as  are  over-provident,  is  "  like  Promethe- 
us, the  prudent  man,  as  his  name  implies, 
who  was  bound  to  the  hill  Caucasus,  a 
place  of  large  prospect,  where  an  eagle, 
feeding  on  his  liver,  devoured  as  much  by 
day  as  was  repaired  by  night ;  and  so  he 
who   looks   too  far  before   him  has  his 
heart  all  day  long  gnawed  by  the  fear  of 
death,  poverty,  or  other  calamity,  and  has 
no  repose  nor  pause  but  in  sleep."    This 
is  an  allusion  made  in  the  style  of  Lord 
Bacon.     The  ignorance  of  causes  makes 
men  fear  some  invisible  agent,  like  the 
gods  of  the  Gentiles  ;  but  the  investigation 
of  them  leads  us  to  a  God  eternal,  infinite 
and  omnipotent.  This  ignorance,  however, 
of  second  causes,  conspiring  with  three 
other  prejudices  of  mankind,  the  belief  in 
ghosts,  or  spirits  of  subtile  bodies,  the 
devotion  and  reverence  generally  shown 
towards  what  we  fear  as  having  power  to 
hurt  us,  and  the  taking  of  things  casual 
for  prognostics,  are  altogether  the  natural 
seed  of  religion,  which,  by  reason  of  the 
different  fancies,  judgments,  and  passions 
of  several  men,  hath  grown  up  into  cere- 
monies so  different,  that  those  which  are 
used  by  one  man  are  for  the  most  part 
ridiculous  to  another.     He  illustrates  this 
by  a  variety  of  instances  from  ancient 
superstitions.     But  the  forms  of  religion 
are  changed  when  men  suspect  the  wis- 
dom, sincerity,  or  love  of  those  who  teach 
it,  or  its  priests. |    The  remaining  portion 
of  the  Leviathan,  relating  to  moral  and 
political  philosophy,  must  be  deferred  to 
our  next  chapter. 

150.  The  Elementa  Philosophise  were 
published  by  Hobbes  in  1655,  and  dedi- 
cated to  his  constant  patron,  the  Earl  of 
Devonshire.   These  are  divided  into  three 
parts,  entitled  De  Corpore,  De  Homine, 
and  De  Give.    And  the  first  part  has  itself 


«  Lev,,  c.  12.     +  Hum.  Nat.,  c.  1 1 .    t  Lev.,  c.  12. 


three  divisions :  Logic,  the  First  Philos- 
ophy, and  Physics.  The  second  part,  De 
Homine,  is  neither  the  treatise  of  Human 
Nature  nor  the  corresponding  part  of  the 
Leviathan,  though  it  contains  many  things 
substantially  found  there.  A  long  dis- 
quisition on  optics  and  the  nature  of  vision, 
chiefly  geometrical,  is  entirely  new.  The 
third  part,  De  Give,  is  the  treatise  by  that 
name,  reprinted,  as  far  as  I  am  aware, 
without  alteration. 

151.  The  first  part  of  the  fimi  treatise, 
entitled  Computatio  sive  Logica,  is  by  no 
means  the  least  valuable  among  the  phil- 
osophical writings  of  ifobbes.  In  forty 
pages  the  subject  is  very  well  and  clearly 
explained,  nor  do  I  know  that  the  princi- 
ples are  better  laid  down,  or  the  rules 
more  sufficiently  given  in  more  prolix 
treatises.  Many  of  his  observations,  es- 
pecially as  to  words,  are  such  as  we  find  in 
his  English  works,  arid  perhaps  his  nomi- 
nalism is  more  clearly  expressed  than  it 
is  in  them.  Of  the  syllogistic  method,  at 
least  for  the  purpose  of  demonstration  or 
teaching  others,  he  seems  to  have  enter- 
tained a  favourable  opinion,  or  even  to 
have  held  it  necessary  for  real  demonstra- 
tion, as  his  definition  shows.  Hobbes  ap- 
pears to  be  aware  of  what  I  do  not  re- 
member to  have  seen  put  by  others,  that 
in  the  natural  process  of  reasoning,  the 
minor  premise  commonly  precedes  the 
major.*  It  is  for  want  of  attending  to  this 
that  syllogisms,  as  usually  stated,  are  apt 
to  have  so  formal  and  unnatural  a  con- 


*  In  Whateley's  Logic,  p.  90,  it  is  observed  that 
"  the  proper  order  is  to  place  the  major  premise  first, 
and  the  minor  second ;  but  this  does  not  constitute 
the  major  and  minor  premises,"  &c.  Jt  may  be  the 
proper  order  in  one  sense,  as  exhibiting  better  the 
foundation  of  syllogistic  reasoning;  but  it  is  not 
that  which  we  commonly  follow,  either  in  thinking 
or  in  proving  to  others.  In  the  rhetorical  use  of 
syllogism,  it  can  admit  of  no  doubt  that  the  opposite 
order  is  the  most  striking  and  persuasive ;  such  as 
in  Cato,  "If  there  be  a  God,  he  must  delight  in 
virtue ;  And  that  which  he  delights  in  must  be 
happy."  In  Euclid's  demonstrations  this  will  be 
found  the  form  usually  employed.  And,  though  the 
rules  of  grammar  are  generally  illustrated  by  ex- 
amples, which  is  beginning  with  the  major  premise, 
yet  the  process  of  reasoning  which  a  boy  employs 
in  construing  a  Latin  sentence  is  the  reverse. 
He  observes  a  nominative  case,  a  verb  in  the  third 
person,  and  then  applies  his  general  rule,  or  major, 
to  the  particular  instance,  or  minor,  so  as  to  infer 
their  agreement.  In  criminal  jurisprudence,  the 
Scots  begin  with  the  major  premise,  or  relevancy 
of  the  indictment,  when  there  is  room  for  doubt; 
the  English  with  the  minor,  or  evidence  of  the  fact, 
reserving  the  other  for  what  we  call  motion  in  ar- 
rest of  judgment.  Instances  of  both  orders  are 
common,  but  by  far  the  most  frequent  are  of  that 
which  the  Archbishop  of  Dublin  reckons  the  less 
proper  of  the  two.  Those  logicians  who  fail  to 
direct  the  student's  attention  to  this,  really  do  not 
justice  to  their  own  favourite  science. 


118 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


struction.  The  process  of  the  mind  ii 
this  kind  of  reasoning  is  explained,  ii 
general,  with  correctness,  and,  I  believe 
with  originality,  in  the  following  passage 
which  I  shall  transcribe  from  the  Lath 
rather  than  give  a  version  of  my  own 
few,  probably,  being  likely  to  read  the  pres- 
ent section  who  are  unacquainted  with 
that  language.  The  style  of  Hobbes 
though  perspicuous,  is  concise,  and  the 
original  words  will  be  more  satisfactory 
than  any  translation. 

152.  Syflogismo  directo  cogitatio  in  ani- 
mo  respondens  est  hujusmodi.  Primo  con- 
cipitur  phantasnia  rei  nominates  cum  acci- 
dente  sive  affectu  ejus  propter  quern  ap- 
pellatur  eo  nomine  quod  est  in  minore 
propositione  subjectum;  deinde  animo  oc- 
currit  phantasma  ejusdem  rei  cum  acci- 
dente  sive  affectu  propter  quem  appellatur, 
quod  est  in  eadem  propositione  praedica- 
tum.  Tertio  redit  cogitatio  rursus  ad 
rem  nominatam  cum  affectu  propter  quem 
eo  nomine  appellatur,  quod  est  in  praedi- 
cato  propositions  majoris.  Postremo  cum 
meminerit  eos  affectus  esse  omnes  unius 
et  ejusdem  rei,  concludit  tria  ilia  nomina 
ejusdem  quoque  rei  esse  nomina ;  hoc  est, 
conclusionem  esse  veram.  Exempli  causa, 
quando  fit  syllogismus  hie,  Homo  est  Ani- 
mal, Animal  est  Corpus,  ergo  Homo  est 
Corpus,  occurrit  animo  imago  hominis 
loquentis  vel  differentia  [sic,  sed  lege  dis- 
serentis],  meminitque  id  quod  sic  apparet 
yocari  hominen.  Deinde  occurrit  eadem 
imago  ejusdem  hominis  sese  moventis, 
meminitque  id  quod  sic  apparet  vocari 
animal.  TerUo  recnrrit  eadem  imago  hom- 
inis locum  aliquem  sive  spatium  occu- 
pantis,  meminitque  id  quod  sic  apparet 
vocari  corpus.*  Postremo  cum  memin- 
erit rem  illam  quae  et  extendebatur  secun- 


*  This  is  the  questionable  part  of  Hobbes's  theory 
of  syllogism.  According  to  the  common  and  obvi- 
ous understanding,  the  mind,  in  the  major  premise, 
Animal  est  Corpus,  does  not  reflect  on  the  subject 
of  the  minor.  Homo,  as  occupying  space,  but  on 
the  subject  of  the  major,  Animal,  which  includes 
indeed  the  former,  but  is  mentally  substituted  for  it 
It  may  sometimes  happen,  that  where  this  predicate 
of  the  minor  term  is  manifestly  a  collective  word 
that  comprehends  the  subject,  the  latter  is  not,  as  it 
were,  absorbed  in  it,  and  may  be  contemplated  by 
the  mind  distinctly  in  the  major ;  as  if  we  sav,  John 
is  a  man ;  a  man  feels ;  we  may  perhaps  h'ave  no 
image  in  the  mind  of  any  man  but  John.  But  this 
is  not  the  case  where  the  predicated  quality  apper- 
tains to  many  things  visibly  different  from  the  sub- 
ject ;  as  in  Hobbes's  instance,  Animal  est  Corpus 
we  may  surely  consider  other  animals  as  being  ex- 
tended and  occupying  space  besides  men.  It  does 
not  seem  that  otherwise  there  could  be  any  ascend- 
ing scale  from  particulars  to  generals,  as  far  as  the 
reasoning  faculties,  independent  of  words,  are  con- 

C?r.ri       ,And  lf  we  beSin  with  the  maJ°r  premise 
oi  the  syllogism,  this  will  be  still  more  apparent. 


dum  locum,  et  loco  movcbatur,  et  oratione 
utebatur,  unam  et  eandem  fuisse,  concludit 
etiam  nomina  ilia   tria,   Homo,  Animal, 
Corpus,  ejusdem  rei  esse  nomina,  et  pro- 
inde,  Homo  est  Corpus,  esse  propositio- 
nem  veram.    Manifestum  hinc  est  concep- 
tum   sive   cogitationem   quae   respondens 
syllogismo  ex  propositionibus  universali- 
bus  in  animo  existit,  nullam  esse  in  iis 
animalibus  quibus  deest  usus  nominum, 
cum    inter   syllogizandum    oporteat   non 
modo  de  re  sed  etiam  alternis  vicibus  de  di- 
versis  rei  nominibus,  quae  propter  diversaa 
de  re  cogitationes  adhibitae  sunt,  cogitare. 
153.  The  metaphysical  philosophy  of 
Hobbes,  always  bold  and  original,  often 
acute  and  profound,  without  producing  an 
immediate  school  of  disciples  like  that  of 
Descartes,  strutk  perhaps  a  deeper  root 
in  the  minds  of  reflecting  men.  and  has  in- 
fluenced   more    extensively   the   general 
tone  of  speculation.     Locke,  who  had  not 
read  much,  had   certainly  read  Hobbes, 
though  he  does  not  borrow  from  him  so 
much  a^  has  sometimes  been  imagined. 
The  French  metaphysicians  of  the  next 
century  found  him  nearer  to  their  own 
theories  than  his  more  celebrated  rival  in 
English  philosophy.     But  the  writer  who 
has  built  most  upon  Hobbes,  and  may  be 
reckoned,  in  a  certain  sense,  his  commen- 
tator, if  he  who  fully  explains  and  devel- 
ops  a  system  may  deserve   that  name, 
was  Hartley.     The  theory  of  association 
is  implied  and  intimated  in  many  passages 
of  the  elder  philosopher,  though  it  was 
irst  expanded  and  applied  with  a  diligent, 
'ngenious,  and  comprehensive  research,  ii 
sometimes  in  too  forced  a  manner,  by  his 
disciple.     I  use  this  word  without  partic- 
ular inquiry  into  the  direct  acquaintance 
of  Hartley  with  the  writings  of  Hobbes  ; 
,he  subject  had  been  frequently  touched 
n  intermediate  publications,  and  in  mat- 
ers of  reasoning,  as   I  have   intimated 
above,  little  or  no  presumption  of  borrow- 
'ng  can  be  founded  on  coincidence.     Hart- 
ey  also  resembles  Hobbes  in  the  extreme 
o  which  he  has  pushed  the  nominalist 
heory,  in  the  proneness  to  materialize-  all 
ntellectual  processes,  and  either  to  force 
all  things  mysterious  to  our  faculties  into 
omething  imaginable,  or  to  reject  them 
as  unmeaning,  in  the  want,  much  connect- 
d  with  this,  of  a  steady  perception  of  the 
difference  between  the  Ego  and  its  ob- 
jects, in  an  excessive  love  of  simplifying 
and  generalizing,  and  in  a  readiness  to 
adopt  explanations  conformable  neither  to 
eason  nor  experience,  when  they  fall  in 
vith  some  single  principle,  the  key  that 
>vas  to  unlock  every  ward  of  the  human 
ioul. 


FROM  1600  TO  1650. 


119 


154.  In  nothing  does  Hobbes  deserve 
more  credit  than  in  having  set  an  exam- 
ple of  close  observation  in  the  philosophy 
of  the  human  mind.  If  he  errs,  he  errs 
like  a  man  who  goes  a  little  out  of  the 
right  track,  not  like  one  who  has  set  out 
in  a  wrong  one.  The  eulogy  of  Stewart 
on  Descartes,  that  he  was  the  father  of 
this  experimental  psychology,  cannot  be 
strictly  wrested  from  him  by  Hobbes,  in- 
asmuch as  the  publications  of  the  former 
are  of  an  earlier  date ;  but  we  may  fairly 
say  that  the  latter  began  as  soon,  and 
prosecuted  his  inquiries  farther.  It  seems 


natural  to  presume  that  Hobbes,  who  is 
said  to  have  been  employed  by  Bacon  in 
translating  some  of  his  works  into  Latin, 
had  at  least  been  led  by  him  to  the  induc- 
tive process  he  has  more  than  any  other 
employed.  But  he  has  seldom  mentioned 
his  predecessor's  name ;  and,  indeed,  his 
mind  was  of  a  different  stamp  ;  less  ex- 
cursive, less  quick  in  discovering  analo- 
gies, and  less  fond  of  reasoning  from  them, 
but  more  close,  perhaps  more  patient,  and 
more  apt  to  follow  up  a  predominant  idea, 
which  sometimes  become  one  of  the 
"  idola  specus"  that  deceive  him. 


CHAPTER  IV. 


HISTORY  OF  MORAL  AND  POLITICAL  PHILOSOPHY,  AND  OF  JURISPRUDENCE.  FROM  1GOO  TO   1650. 


SECT.  I.     ON  MORAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

Casuists  of  the  Roman  Church. — Suarez  on  Moral 
Law. — Selden. — Charron. — La  Mothe  le  Vayer. 
— Bacon's  Essays. — Feltham. — Browne's  Religio 
Medici. — Other  Writers. 

1.  IN  traversing  so  wide  a  field  as  mor- 
al and  political  philosophy,  we  must  still 
endeavour  to  distribute   the  subject   ac- 
cording to  some  order  of  subdivision,  'so 
far,  at  least,  as  the  contents  of  the  books 
themselves   which  come  before  us  will 
permit.     And  we  give  the  first  place  to 
those  which,  relating  to   the  moral  law 
botft  of  nature  and  revelation,  connect  the 
proper  subject  of  the  present  chapter  with 
that  of  the  second  and  third. 

2.  We  meet  here  a  concourse  of  vol- 
Casuisticai  umes,  occupying  no  small  space 
writers.      jn  oid  libraries,   the  writings  of 
the  casuists,  chiefly  within  the    Romish 
Church.     None,   perhaps,   in  the   whole 
compass  of  literature  are  more  neglected 
by  those  who  do  not  read  with  what  we 
may  call  a  professional  view;  but  to  the 
ecclesiastics  of  that  communion  they  have 
still  a  certain  value,  though  far  less  than 
when  they  were  first  written.     The  most 
vital  discipline  of  that  church,  the  secret 
of  the  power  of  its  priesthood,  the  source 
importance     of  most  of  the  good  and  evil  it 
ofconiession.  can  work,  is  found  in  the  con- 
fessional.    It  is  there  that  the  keys  are 
kept ;   it   is  there  that  the  lamp   burns, 
whose  rays  diverge  to  every  portion  of  hu- 
man life.    No  church  that  has  relinquished 
this  prerogative  can  ever  establish  a  per- 
manent dominion   over  mankind ;   none 
that  retains  it  in  effective  use  can  lose  the 
hope  or  the  prospect  of  being  their  ruler. 

3.  It  is  manifest  that  in  the  common 


course  of  this  rite,  no  particular  Necessity  of 
difficulty  will  arise,  nor  is  the  rules  for  the 
confessor  likely  to  weigh  in  confessor- 
golden  scales  the  scruples  or  excuses  of 
ordinary  penitents.  But  peculiar  circum- 
stances might  be  brought  before  him, 
wherein  there  would  be  a  necessity  for 
possessing  some  rule,  lest,  by  sanctioning 
the  guilt  of  the  party  before  him,  he  should 
incur  as  much  of  his  own.  Treatises, 
therefore,  of  casuistry  were  written  as 
guides  to  the  confessor,  and  became  the 
textbooks  in  every  course  of  ecclesiasti- 
cal education.  These  were  commonly 
digested  in  a  systematic  order,  and,  what 
is  the  unfailing  consequence  of  system, 
or,  rather,  almost  part  of  its  definition, 
spread  into  minute  ramifications,  and  aim- 
ed at  comprehending  every  possible  emer- 
gency. Casuistry  is  itself  allied  to  juris- 
prudence, especially  to  that  of  the  canon 
law ;  and  it  was  natural  to  transfer  the 
subtlety  of  distinction  and  copiousness  of 
partition  usual  with  the  jurists,  to  a  sci- 
ence which  its  professors  were  apt  to  treat 
upon  very  similar  principles. 

4.  The  older  theologians  seem,^ike  the 
Greek  and  Roman  moralists,  increaseor 
when  writing  systematically,  to  casuistical 
have  made  general  morality  their  llleralure- 
subject,  and  casuistry  but  their  illustra- 
tion. Among  the  monuments  of  their 
ethical  philosophy,  the  Secunda  Secundae 
of  Aquinas  is  the  most  celebrated.  Trea- 
tises of  casuistry,  which  is  the  expansion 
and  application  of  ethics,  may  be  found 
both  before  and  during  the  sixteenth  cen-  - 
tury ;  and  while  the  confessional  was  ac- 
tively converted  to  so  powerful  an  engine, 
they  could  not  conveniently  be  wanting. 
Casuistry,  indeed,  is  not  much  required  by 


120 

the  Church  in  an  ignorant  age ;  but  the 
sixteenth  century  was  not  an  age  of  ig- 
norance. Yet  it  is  not  till  about  the  end 
of  that  period  that  we  find  casuistical  lit- 
erature burst  out,  so  to  speak,  with  a 
profusion  of  fruit.  "  Uninterruptedly  af- 
terward," says  Eichhorn,  "  through  the 
whole  seventeenth  century,  the  moral 
and  casuistical  literature  of  the  Church 
of  Rome  was  immensely  rich  ;  and  it 
caused  a  lively  and  extensive  movement 
in  a  province  which  had  long  been  at 
peace.  The  first  impulse  came  from  the 
Jesuits,  to  whom  the  Jansenists  opposed 
themselves.  We  must  distinguish  from 
both  the  theological  moralists,  who  re- 
mained faithful  to  their  ancient  teaching."* 
5.  We  may  be  blamed,  perhaps,  for  ob- 
Distraction  trading  a  pedantic  terminology, 
ofsubjec-  if  we  make  the  most  essential 

live  and  oh-    , .  ..         .  ,.. 

jectivemo-  distinction  in  morality,  and  one 
raiity.  for  want  of  which,  more  than 
any  other,  its  debatable  controversies 
have  arisen,  that  between  the  subjective 
and  objective  rectitude  of  actions  :  in  clear- 
er language,  between  the  provinces  of 
conscience  and  of  reason ;  between  what 
is  well  meant  and  what  is  well  done. 
The  chief  business  of  the  priest  is  natu- 
rally with  the  former.  The  walls  of  the 
confessional  are  privy  to  the  whispers  of 
self-accusing  guilt.  No  doubt  can  ever 
arise  as  to  the  subjective  character  of  ac- 
tions which  the  conscience  has  condemn- 
ed, and  for  which  the  penitent  seeks  ab- 
solution. Were  they  even  objectively 
lawful,  they  are  sins  in  him,  according  to 
the  unanimous  determination  of  casuists. 
But,  though  what  the  conscience  reclaims 
against  is  necessarily  wrong,  relatively  to 
the  agent,  it  does  not  follow  that  what  it 
may  fail  to  disapprove  is  innocent.  Choose 
whatever  theory  we  may  please  as  to  the 
moral  standard  of  actions,  they  must  have 
an  objective  rectitude  of  their  own,  inde- 
pendently of  their  agent,  without  which 
there  could  be  no  distinction  of  right  and 
•wrong,  or  any  scope  for  the  dictates  of 
conscience.  The  science  of  ethics,  as  a 
science,  can  only  be  conversant  with  ob- 
jective morality.  Casuistry  is  the  in- 
strument of  applying  this  science,  which, 
like  every  other,  is  built  on  reasoning,  to 
the  moral  nature  and  volition  of  man. 
It  rests  for  its  validity  on  the  great  princi- 
ple that  it  is  our  duty  to  know,  as  far  as 
lies  in  us,  what  is  right,  as  well  as  to  do 
what  we  know  to  be  such.  But  its  ap- 
plication was  beset  with  obstacles ;  the 
extenuations  of  ignorance  and  error  were 
so  various,  the  difficulty  of  representing 


*  GescMchte  der  Cultur,  vol.  vi.,  part  i.,  p.  390. 


OF  LUROPE 

the  moral  position  of  the  penitent  to  the 
judgment  of  the  confessor  by  any  process 
of  language  so  insuperable,  that  the  most 
acute  understanding  might  be  foiled  in  the 
task  of  bringing  home  a  conviction  of 
guilt  to  the  self-deceiving  sinner.  Again, 
he  might  aggravate  needless  scruples,  or 
disturb  the  tranquil  repose  of  innocence. 

6.  But,  though  past  actions  are  the  pri 
mary  subject  of  auricular  con-  nirectory 
fession,  it  was  a  necessary  con-  office  of  the 
sequence  that  the  priest  would  C01lfessor 
be  frequently  called  upon  to  advise  as  to 
the  future,  to  bind  or  loose  the  will  in  in- 
complete or  meditated  lines  of  conduct. 
And  as  all,  without  exception,  must  come 
before  his  tribunal,  the  rich,  the  noble,  the 
counsellors  of  princes,  and  princes  them- 
selves, were  to  reveal  their  designs,  to  ex- 
pound their  uncertainties,  to  call,  in  ef- 
fect, for  his   sanction  in  all  they  might 
have  to  do,  to  secure  themselves  against 
transgression  by  shifting  the  responsibility 
on  his  head.     That  this  tremendous  au- 
thority of  direction,  distinct  from  the  rite 
of  penance,  though  immediately  spring- 
ing from  it,  should  have  produced  a  no 
more  overwhelming  influence  of  the  priest- 
hood than  it  has  actually  done,  great  as 
that  has  been,  can  only  be  ascribed  to  the 
reaction  of  human  inclinations,  which  will 
not  be  controlled,  and  of  human  reason, 
which  exerts  a  silent  force  against  the  au- 
thority it  acknowledges. 

7.  In  the  directory  business  of  the  con- 
fessional, far  more  than  in  the  Difficulties 
penitential,  the  priest  must  strive  °f  casuistry, 
to  bring  about  that  union  between  subjec- 
tive and  objective  rectitude  in  which  the 
perfection  of  a  moral  act  consists,  with- 
out which  in  every  instance,  according  to 
their  tenets,  some  degree   of  sinfulness, 
some  liability  to  punishment  remains,  and 
which  must  at  least  be  demanded  from 
those  who  have   been  -  made   acquainted 
with  their  duty.     But  when  he  came  from 
the  broad  lines  of  the  moral  law,  from 
the  decalogue  and  the   Gospel,  or  even 
from  the  ethical  systems  of  theology,  to 
the  indescribable  variety  of  circumstance 
which  his  penitents  had  to  recount,  there 
arose  a  multitude  of  problems,  and  such 
as,  perhaps,  would  most  command  his  at- 
tention, when  they  involved  the  practice 
of  the  great,  to  w'hich  he  might  hesitate 
to  apply  an  unbending  rule.     The  ques- 
tions of  casuistry,  like  those  of  jurispru- 
dence, were  often  found  to  turn  on  the 
great  and  ancient  doubt  of  both  sciences, 
whether  we  should  abide  by  the  letter  or 
a  general  law,  or  let  in  an  equitable  in- 
terpretation of  its  spirit.     The  consulting 
party  would  be  apt  to  plead  for  the  one, 


FROM  1600  TO  1650. 


121 


the  guide  of  conscience  would  most  se 
curely  adhere  to  the  other.  But  he  migh 
also  perceive  the  severity  of  those  rule 
of  obligation  which  conduce,  in  the  par- 
ticular instance,  to  no  apparent  end,  or 
even  defeat  their  own  principle.  Hence 
there  arose  two  schools  of  casuistry,  first 
in  the  practice  of  confession,  and  after- 
ward in  the  books  intended  to  assist  it;  one 
strict  and  uncomplying,  the  other  more 
indulgent  and  flexible  to  circumstances. 

8.  The  characteristics  of  these  systems 
strict  and  were  displayed  in  almost  the 
lax  schemes  whole  range  of  morals.  They 
were,  however,  chiefly  seen  in 
the  rules  of  veracity,  and  especially  in 
promissory  obligations.  According  to  the 
fathers  of  the  Church,  and  to  the  rigid 
casuists  in  general,  a  lie  was  never  to  be 
uttered,  a  promise  was  never  to  be  bro- 
ken. The  precepts  especially  of  revela- 
tion, notwithstanding  their  brevity  and 
figurativeness,  were  held  complete  and 
literal.  Hence,  promises  obtained  by  mis- 
take, fraud,  or  force,  and,  above  all,  gra- 
tuitous vows,  where  God  was  considered 
as  the  promisee,  however  lightly  made,  or 
become  intolerably  onerous  by  superve- 
nient circumstances,  were  strictly  to  be 
fulfilled,  unless  the  dispensing  power  of 
the  Church  might  sometimes  be  sufficient 
to  release  them.  Besides  the  respect  due 
to  moral  rules,  and  especially  those  of 
Scripture,  there  had  been,  from  early 
times,  in  the  Christian  Church,  a  strong 
disposition  to  the  ascetic  scheme  of  reli- 
gious morality  ;  a  prevalent  notion  of  the 
intrinsic  meritoriousness  of  voluntary  self- 
denial,  which  discountenanced  all  regard 
in  man  to  his  own  happiness,  at  least  in 
this  life,  as  a  sort  of  flinching  from  the 
discipline  of  suffering.  And  this  had, 
doubtless,  its  influence  upon  the  severe 
casuists. 

9.  But  there  had  not  been  wanting  those 
Convenience  who,  whatever  course  they  might 
of  the  latter,  pursue  in  the  confessional,  found 
the  convenience  of  an  accommodating  mo- 
rality in  the  secular  affairs  of  the  Church. 
Oaths  were  broken,  engagements  entered 
into  without  faith,  for  the  ends  of  the 
clergy,  or  of  those  whom  they  favoured 
in  the  struggles  of  the  world.  And  some 
of  the  ingenious  sophistry,  by  which  these 
breaches  of  plain  rules  are  usually  defend- 
ed, was  not  unknown  before  the  Reforma- 
tion. But  casuistical  writings  at  that  time 
were  comparatively  few.  The  Jesuits 
have  the  credit  of  first,  rendering  public  a 
scheme  of  false  morals,  which  has  been 
denominated  from  them,  and  enhanced  the 
obloquy  that  overwhelmed  their  order. 
Their  volumes  of  casuistry  were  exceed- 

VOL.  II.— Q 


ingly  numerous  ;  some  of  them  belong  to 
the  last  twenty  years  of  the  sixteenth,  but 
a  far  greater  part  to  the  following  century. 
10.  The  Jesuits  were  prone,  for  several 
reasons,  to  embrace  the  laxer  Favoured  by 
theories  of  obligation.  They  the  Jesuits. 
were  less  tainted  than  the  old  monastic  or- 
ders with  that  superstition  which  had  flow- 
ed into  the  Church  from  the  East,  the  meri- 
toriousness of  self-inflicted  suffering  for  its 
own  sake.  They  embraced  a  life  of  toil 
and  danger,  but  not  of  habitual  privation 
and  pain.  Dauntless  in  death  and  torture,- 
they  shunned  the  mechanical  asceticism 
of  the  convent.  And,  secondly,  their  eyes 
were  bent  on  a  great  end,  the  good  of  the 
Catholic  Church,  which  they  identified 
with  that  of  their  own  order.  It  almost 
invariably  happens,  that  men  who  have 
the  good  of  mankind  at  heart,  and  active- 
ly prosecute  it,  become  embarrassed,  at 
some  time  or  other,  by  the  conflict  of  par- 
ticular duties  with  the  best  method  of  pro- 
moting their  object.  An  unaccommoda- 
ting veracity,  an  unswerving  good  faith, 
will  often  appear  to  stand,  or  stand  really, 
in  the  way  of  their  ends  ;  and  hence  the 
little  confidence  we  repose  in  enthusiasts, 
even  when,  in  a  popular  mode  of  speaking, 
they  are  most  sincere,  that  is,  most  con- 
vinced of  the  rectitude  of  their  aim. 

1 1 .  The  course  prescribed  by  Loyola  led 
his  disciples,  not  to  solitnde,  but  The  causes 
to  the  world.     They  became  the  of  this- 
associates  and  counsellors,  as  well  as  the 
confessors   of  the   great.     They  had   to 
wield  the  powers  of  the  earth  for  the  ser- 
vice of  Heaven.     Hence,  in  confession  it- 
elf,  they  were  often  tempted  to  look  be- 
yond the  penitent,  and  to  guide  his  con- 
science rather  with  a  view  to  his  useful- 
ness than  his  integrity.     In  questions  of 
morality,  to  abstain  from  action  is  gener- 
ally the  means  of  innocence,  but  to  act  is 

ndispensable  for  positive  good.  Thus 
;heir  casuistry  had  a  natural  tendency  to 
Become  more  objective,  and  to  entangle 
he  responsibility  of  personal  conscience 
n  an  inextricable  maze  of  reasoning. 
They  had  also  to  retain  their  influence 
over  men  not  wholly  submissive  to  reli- 
ious  control,  nor  ready  to  abjure  the 
)leasant  paths  in  which  they  trod  ;  men 
of  the  court  and  the  city,  who  might  serve 
he  Church  though  they  did  not  adorn  it, 
and  for  whom  it  was  necessary  to  make 
some  compromise  in  furtherance  of  the 
nain  design. 

12.  It  must  also  be  fairly  admitted  that 
he  rigid  casuists  went  to  ex-  Extravau.-.nce 
ravagant  lengths.     Their  de-  or  th«  strict 
:isions  were  often   not  only  Ci 

mrsh,  but  unsatisfactory  ;  the  reason  de- 


122 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


manded  in  vain  a  principle  of  their  iron 
law  ;  and  the  common  sense  of  mankind 
imposed  the  limitations,  which  they  were 
incapable  of  excluding  by  anything  better 
than  a  dogmatic  assertion.  Thus,  in  the 
cases  of  promissory  obligation,  they  were 
compelled  to  make  some  exceptions,  and 
these  left  it  open  to  rational  inquiry  wheth- 
er more  might  not  be  found.  They  di- 
verged unnecessarily,  as  many  thought, 
from  the  principles  of  jurisprudence  ;  for 
the  jurists  built  their  determinations,  or 
professed  to  do  so,  on  what  was  just  and 
equitable  among  men ;  and  though  a  dis- 
tinction, frequently  very  right,  was  taken 
between  the  forum  exterius  and  interius, 
the  provinces  of  jurisprudence  and  casu- 
istry, yet  the  latter  could  not,  in  these 
questions  of  mutual  obligation,  rest  upon 
wholly  different  ground  from  the  former. 

13.  The  Jesuits,  however,  fell  rapidly 
Opposite  mto  the  opposite  extreme.     Their 
faults  of  subtlety  in  logic,  and  great  ingenu- 
Jesuits.    jty  m  (jevising  arguments,  were 
employed  in   sophisms  that  undermined 
the  foundations  of  moral  integrity  in  the 
heart.      They  warred   with   these  arms 
against  the  conscience  which  they  were 
bound  to  protect.     The  offences  of  their 
casuistry,  as  charged  by  their  adversaries, 
are  very  multifarious.     One  of  the  most 
celebrated  is  the   doctrine   of  equivoca- 
tion ;  the  innocence  of  saying  that  which 
is  true  in  the  sense  meant  by  the  speaker, 
though  he  is  aware  that  it  will  be  other- 
wise understood.     Another  is  that  of  what 
was  called  probability  ;  according  to  which 
it  is  lawful,  in  doubtful  problems  of  mo- 
rality, to  take  the  course  which  appears 
to  ourselves  least  likely  to  be  right,  pro- 
vided any  one  casuistical  writer  of  good 
repute  has  approved  it.     The  multiplicity 
of  books,  and  want  of  uniformity  in  their 
decisions,  made  this  a  broad  path  for  the 
conscience.     In  the  latter  instance,  as  in 
many  others,  the  subjective  nature  of  mor- 
al obligation  was  lost  sight  of ;  and  to  this 
the  scientific  treatment  of  casuistry  inev- 
itably contributed. 

14.  Productions   so  little  regarded  as 
those  of  the   Jesuitical  casuists   cannot 
be  dwelt  upon.    Thomas  Sanchez,  of  Cor- 
dova, is  author  of  a  large  treatise  on  mat- 
rimony, published  in  1592 ;  the  best,  as 
far  as  the  canon  law  is  concerned,  which 
has  yet  been  published.  But  in  the  casuis- 
tical portion  of  this  work  the  most  extra- 
ordinary indecencies  occur,  such  as  have 
consigned  it  to  general  censure.*     Some 

*  Bayle,  art.  Sanchez,  expatiates  on  this,  and 
condemns  the  Jesuit ;  Catilma  Cethegum.  The 
later  editions  of  Sanchez  De  Matrimonio  are  cas- 
tigate. 


of  these,  it  must  be  owned,  belong  to  the 
rite  of  auricular  confession  itself,  as  man- 
aged in  the  Church  of  Rome,  though  they 
give  scandal  by  their  publication  and  ap- 
parent excess  beyond  the  necessity  of  the 
case.  The  Summa  Casuum  Conscientiae 
of  Toletus,  a  Spanish  Jesuit  and  cardinal, 
which,  though  published  in  1602,  belongs 
to  the  sixteenth  century,  and  the  casuis- 
tical writings  of  Less,  Busenbaum,  and  Es- 
cobar, may  just  be  here  mentioned.  The 
Medulla  Casuum  Conscientiae  of  the  sec- 
ond (Minister,  1645)  went  through  fifty- 
two  editions,  the  Theologia  Moralis  of  the 
last  (Lyon,  164G)  through  forty.*  Of  the 
opposition  excited  by  the  laxity  in  moral 
rules  ascribed  to  the  Jesuits,  though  it  be- 
gan in  some  manner  during  this  period, 
we  shall  have  more  to  say  in  the  next. 

15.  Suarez  of  Granada,  by  far  the  great- 
est man  in  the  department  of  Suarez, 
moral  philosophy  whom  the  or-  De  Legibus. 
der  of  Loyola  produced  in  this  age,  or 
perhaps  in  any  other,  may  not  improbably 
have  treated  of  casuistry  in  some  part  of 
his  numerous  volumes.  We  shall,  how- 
ever, gladly  leave  this  subject  to  bring  be- 
fore the  reader  a  large  treatise  of  Suarez, 
on  the  principles  of  natural  law,  as  well 
as  of"  all  positive  jurisprudence.  This  is 
entitled,  Tractatus  de  legibus  ac  Deo  le- 
gislatore  in  decem  libros  distributus,  utri- 
usque  fori  hominibus  non  minus  utilis, 
quam  necessarius.  It  might,  with  no  great 
impropriety  perhaps,  be  placed  in  any  of 
the  three  sections  of  this  chapter,  rela- 
ting not  only  to  moral  philosophy,  but  to 
politics  in  some  degree,  and  to  jurispru- 
dence. 

16..  Suarez  begins  by  laying  down  the 
position  that  all  legislative,  as  Titles  of  bis 
well  as  all  paternal,  power  is  de-  ten  books- 
rived  from  God,  and  that  the  authority  of 
every  law  resolves  itself  into  his.  For 
either  the  law  proceeds  immediately  from 
God,  or,  if  it  be  human,  it  proceeds  from 
man  as  his  vicar  and  minister.  The  titles 
of  the  ten  books  of  this  large  treatise  are 
as  follows  :  1.  On  the  nature  of  law  in 
general,  and  on  its  causes  and  consequen- 
ces :  2.  On  eternal  natural  law,  and  that 
of  nations :  3.  On  positive  human  law 
in  itself,  considered  relatively  to  human 
nature,  which  is  also  called  civil  law:  4. 
On  positive  ecclesiastical  law  :  5.  On  the 
differences  of  human  laws,  and  especially 
of  tht»se  that  are  penal,  or  in  the  nature 
of  penal :  6.  On  the  interpretation,  the  al- 
teration, and  the  abolition  of  human  laws  : 
7.  On  unwritten  law,  which  is  called  cus- 
tom ;  8.  On  those  human  laws  which  are 


*  Ranke,  die  Papste,  vol.  iii. 


FROM  1600  TO  1650. 


123 


called  favourable,  or  privileges  :  9.  On  the 
positive  divine  law  of  the  old  dispensa- 
tions :  10.  On  the  positive  divine  law  of 
the  new  dispensation. 

17.  This  is  a  very  comprehensive  chart 
Heads  of  the  of  general  la\v,  and  entitles  Sua- 
second  book.  rez  to  be  accounted  such  a  pre- 
cursor of  Grotius  and  Puffendorf  as  occu- 
pied most  of  their  ground,  especially  that 
of  the  latter,  though  he  cultivated  it  in  a 
different  manner.     His  volume  is  a  close- 
ly printed  folio  of  700  pages  in  double  col- 
umns.    The  following  heads  of  chapters 
in  the  second  book  will  show  the  ques- 
tions in  which  Suarez  dealt,  and,  in  some 
degree,  his  method  of  stating  and  conduct- 
ing them.     1.  Whether  there  be  any  eter- 
nal law,  and  what  is  its  necessity  :  2.  On 
the  subject  of  eternal  law,  and  on  the  acts 
it  commands  :  3.  In  what  act  (actus,  not 
actio,  a  scholastic  term,  as  I  conceive)  the 
eternal  law  exists  (existit),  and  whether  it 
be  one  or  many  :  4.  Whether  the  eternal 
law  be  the  cause  of  other  laws,  and  obli- 
gatory through  their  means :  5.  In  what 
natural  law  consists  :  6.  Whether  natural 
law  be  a  preceptive  divine  law  :  7.  On  the 
subject  of  natural  law,  and  on  its  precepts  : 
8.  Whether  natural  law  be  one  :  9.  Wheth- 
er natural  law  bind  the  conscience  :  10. 
Whether  natural  law  obliges  not  only  to 
the  act  (actus),  but  to  the  mode  (modum) 
of  virtue.     This  obscure  question  seems 
to  refer  to  the  subjective  nature,  or  mo- 
tive, of  virtuous  actions,  as  appears  by  the 
next :  11.  Whether  natural  law  obliges  us 
to  act  from  love  or  charity  (ad  modum 
operandi  ex  caritate)  :  12.  Whether  nat- 
ural law  not   only  prohibits  certain  ac- 
tions, but  invalidates  them  when  done  : 
13.  Whether  the  precepts  of  the  law  of 
nature   are   intrinsically   immutable  :  14. 
Whether  any  human  authority  can  alter 
or  dispense  with  the  natural  law  :    15. 
Whether  God,  by  his  absolute  power,  can 
dispense   with  the   law  of   nature  :    16. 
Whether  an  equitable  interpretation  can 
ever  be  admitted  in  the  law  of  nature  : 
17.  Whether    the  law  of  nature  is  dis- 
tinguishable from   that    of  nations  :    18. 
Whether  the  law  of  nations  enjoins  or  for- 
bids anything  :    19.  By  what  means  we 
are  to  distinguish  the  law  of  nature  from 
that  of  nations  :   20.  Certain  corollaries  : 
and  that  the  law  of  nations  is  both  just 
and  also  mutable. 

18.  These  heads  may  give  some  slight 
niaru-ter  noti°n  to  tne  reader  of  the  char- 
or  such ' r  acter  of  the  book,  as  the  book  it- 
Bchoiastic  Self  may  serve  as  a  typical  in- 

1  stance  of  that  form  of  theology, 
of  methaphysics,  of  ethics,  of  jurispru- 
dence, which  occupies  the  unread  and  un- 


readable folios  of  the  sixteenth  and  sev- 
enteenth centuries,  especially  those  issu- 
ing from  the  Church  of  Rome,  and  may 
be  styled  generally  the  scholastic  method. 
Two  remarkable  characteristics  strike  us 
in  these  books,  which  are  sufficiently  to 
be  judged  by  reading  their  table  of  con- 
tents, and  by  taking  occasional  samples 
of  different  parts.  The  extremely  sys- 
tematic form  they  assume,  and  the  multi- 
plicity of  divisions,  render  this  practice 
more  satisfactory  than  it  can  be  in  works 
of  less  regular  arrangement.  One  of  these 
characteristics  is  that  spirit  of  system  it- 
self, and  another  is  their  sincere  desire  to 
exhaust  the  subject  by  presenting  it  to  the 
mind  in  every  light,  and  by  tracing  all  its 
relations  and  consequences.  The  fertili- 
ty of  those  men  who,  like  Suarez,  superior 
to  most  of  the  rest,  were  trained  in  the 
scholastic  discipline,  to  which  I  refer  the 
methods  of  the  canonists  and  casuists,  is 
sometimes  surprising ;  their  views  are  not 
one-sided;  they  may  not  solve  objections 
to  our  satisfaction,  but  they  seldom  sup- 
press them ;  they  embrace  a  vast  compass 
of  thought  and  learning ;  they  write  less 
for  the  moment,  and  are  less  under  the  in- 
fluence of  local  and  temporary  prejudices 
than  many  who  have  lived  in  better  ages 
of  philosophy.  But,  again,  they  have  great 
defects ;  their  distinctions  confuse  instead 
of  giving  light ;  their  systems,  being  not 
founded  on  clear  principles,  become  em- 
barrassed and  incoherent ;  their  method 
is  not  always  sufficiently  consecutive  ;  the 
difficulties  which  they  encounter  are  too 
arduous  for  them ;  they  labour  under  the 
multitude,  and  are  entangled  by  the  dis- 
cordance, of  their  authorities. 

19.  Suarez,  who  discusses  all  these  im- 
portant problems  of  his  second  Quotations 
book  with  acuteness,  and,  for  his  of  suarcz. 
circumstances,  with  an  independent  mind, 
is  weighed  down  by  the  extent  and  nature 
of  his  learning.  If  Grotius  quotes  philos- 
ophers and  poets  too  frequently,  what  can 
we  say  of  the  perpetual  reference  to  Aqui- 
nas, Cajetan,  Soto,  Turrecremata,  Vasqui- 
us,  Isidore,  Vincent  of  Beauvais  or  Alen- 
sis,  not  to  mention  the  canonists  and  fa- 
thers which  Suarez  employs  to  prove  or 
disprove  every  proposition"?  The  syllo- 
gistic forms  are  unsparingly  introduced. 
Such  writers  as  Soto  or  Suarez  held  all 
sort  of  ornament  not  less  unfit  for  philo- 
sophical argument  than  it  would  be  for 
geometry.  Nor  do  they  ever  appeal  to 
experience  or  history  for  the  rules  of  de- 
termination. Their  materials  are,  never- 
theless, abundant,  consisting  of  texts  of 
Scripture,  sayings  of  the  fathers  and 
schoolmen,  established  theorems  in  naturr* 


124 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


theology  and  metaphysics,  from  which  they 
did  not  find  it  hard  to  select  premises  which, 
duly  arranged,  gave  them  conclusions. 

20.  Suarez,  after  a  prolix  discussion, 
His  deHni-    comes   to   the   conclusion  that 
tion  of  eter-  "  eternal  law  is  the  free  deter- 
nai  law.       mination  of  the  will  of  God,  or- 
daining a  rule  to  be  observed,  either,  first, 
generally  by  all  parts  of  the  universe  as  a 
means  of  a  common  good,  whether  imme- 
diately belonging  to  it  in  respect  of  the 
entire  universe,  or,  at  least,  in  respect  of 
the  singular  parts  thereof;  or,  secondly, 
to  be  specially  observed  by  intellectual 
creatures  in  respect  of  their  free  opera- 
tions."*   This  is  not  instantly  perspicu- 
ous ;  but  definitions  of  a  complex  nature 
cannot  be  rendered  such;  and  I  do  not 
know  that  it  perplexes  more  at  first  sight 
than  the  enunciation  of  the  last  proposi- 
tion  in  the  fifth  book  of  Simson's  Euclid, 
or  many  others  in  the  conic  sections  and 
other  parts  of  geometry.     It  is,  however, 
what  the  reader  may  think  curious,  that 
this  crabbed  piece  of  scholasticism  is  no- 
thing else,  in  substance,  than  the  Celebra- 
ted sentence  on  law  which  concludes  the 
first  book  of  Hooker's  Ecclesiastical  Poli- 
ty.    Whoever  takes  the  pains  to  under- 
stand Suarez,  will  perceive  that  he  asserts 
exactly  that  which  is  unrolled  in  the  ma- 
jestic eloquence  of  our  countryman. 

21.  By  this  eternal  law  God  is  not  ne- 
cessarily bound.     But  this  seems  to  be 
said  rather  for  the  sake  of  avoiding  phra- 
ses which  were   conventionally  rejected 
by  the  scholastic  theologians,  since,  in  ef- 
fect, his  theory  requires  the  affirmative, 
as  we  shall  soon  perceive ;  and  he  here 
says  that  the  law  is  God  himself  (Deus 
ipse),  and  is  immutable.     This  eternal  law 
is  not  immediately  known  to  man  in  this 
life,  but  either  "  in  other  laws,  or  through 
them,"  which  he  thus  explains.     "  Men, 
while  pilgrims  here  (viatores  homines), 
cannot  learn  the  Divine  will  in  itself,  but 
only  as  much  as  by  certain  signs  or  effects 
is  proposed  to  them ;  and  hence  it  is  pe- 
culiar to  the  blessed  in  heaven,  that,  con- 
templating the  Divine  will,  they  are  ruled 
by  it  as  by  a  direct  law.     The  former 
know  the  eternal  law,  because  they  par- 
take of  it  by  other  laws,  temporal  and  pos- 
itive ;  for,  as  second  causes  display  the 

*  Legem  asternam  esse  decretum  liberum  volun- 
tatis  Dei  statuentis  ordinem  servandum,  aut  gene- 
raliter  ab  omnibus  partihus  universi  in  ordme  ad 
commune  bonum,  vel  immediate  illi  conveniens  ra- 
tione  totius  universi,  vel  saltern  ratione  singularum 
specierum  ejus,  aut  specialiter  servandum  a  creatu- 
ns  intellectualibus  quoad  liberas  operationes  earum, 
c.  3,  §  6.  Compare  with  Hooker  :  Of  Law  no  less 
can  be  said  than  that  her  throne  is  the  bosom  of 
God,  &c. 


first,  and  creatures  the  Creator,  so  tem- 
poral laws  (by  wiiioh.  he  means  laws  re 
spective  of  man  on  earth),  being  streams 
from  that  eternal  law,  manifest  the  fount- 
ain whence  they  spring.  Yet  all  do  not 
arrive  even  at  this  degree  of  knowledge, 
for  all  are  not  able  to  infer  the  ca,use  from 
the  effect.  And  thus,  though  all  men  ne- 
cessarily perceive  some  participation  of 
the  eternal  laws  in  themselves,  since  there 
is  no  one  endowed  with  reason  who  does 
not,  in  some  manner,  acknowledge  that 
what  is  morally  good  ought  to  be  chosen, 
and  what  is  evil  rejected,  so  that,  in  this 
sense,  men  have  all  some  notion  of  the 
eternal  law,  as  St.  Thomas,  and  Hales, 
and  Augustin  say ;  yet,  nevertheless,  they 
do  not  all  know  it  formally,  nor  are  aware 
of  their  participation  of  it,  so  that  it  may 
be  said  the  eternal  law  is  not  universally 
known  in  a  direct  manner.  But  some  at- 
tain that  knowledge  either  by  natural  rea- 
soning, or,  more  properly,  by  revelation 
of  faith ;  and  hence  we  have  said  that  it 
is  known  by  some  only  in  the  inferior 
laws,  but  by  others  through  the  means  of 
those  laws."* 

22.  In  every  chapter  Snarez  propounds 
the  arguments  of  doctors  on  either  whether 
side  of  the  problem,  ending  with  G°d  is  a 
his  own  determination,  which  is   e 
frequently  a  middle  course.     On  the  ques- 
tion, Whether  natural  law  is  of  itself  pre- 
ceptive, or  merely  indicative  of  what  is 
intrinsically  right  or  wrong  1  or,  in  other 
words,  whether  God,  as  to  this  law,  is  a 
legislator  ]  he  holds  this  line  with  Aquinas 
and  most  theologians   (as  he  says),  con- 
tending that  natural  law  does  not  merely 
indicate  right  and  wrong,  but  commands 
the  one  and  prohibits  the  other  ;  though 
this  will  of  God  is  not  the  whole  ground 
of  the  moral  good  and  evil  which  belongs 
to  the  observance  or  transgression  of  nat- 
ural law,  inasmuch  as  it  presupposes   a 
certain  intrinsic  right  and  wrong  in  the 
actions  themselves,  to  which  it  superadds 
the   special  obligation  of  a  divine  law. 
God  therefore  may  be  truly  called  a  legis- 
lator in  respect  of  natural  law.f 

23.  He  next  comes  to  a  profound  but 
important  inquiry,  Whether  God  whether 
could  have  permitted  by  his  own  God  could 
law  actions   against  natural  rea-  ^mTen" 
son?     Ockham  and  Gerson  had  wrong  ac- 
resolved  this  in  the  affirmative,  tions? 


*  Lib.  ii.,  c.  4,  (/  9. 

t  Hsec  Dei  voluntas,  prohibitio  aut  praceptio 
non  est  tota  ratio  bonitatis  et  malitise  quae  est  in 
observalione  vel  transgressione  legis  naturalis,  sed 
supponit  in  ipsis  actubus  necessarian!  quandam  ho- 
nestatem  vel  turpitudinem,  et  illis  adjungit  specia- 
lem  legis  divinae  obligationem,  c.  6,  §  11. 


FROM  1500  TO  1GOO. 


125 


Aquinas  the  contrary  way.  Suarez  as- 
sents to  the  latter,  and  thus  determines 
that  the  law  is  strictly  immutable.  It 
must  follow  of  course  that  the  pope  can- 
not alter  or  dispense  with  the  law  of  na- 
ture, and  he  might  have  spared  the  four- 
teenth chapter,  wherein  he  controverts  the 
doctrine  of  Sanchez  and  some  casuists 
who  had  maintained  so  extraordinary  a 
prerogative.*  This,  however,  is  rather  epi- 
sodical. In  the  fifteenth  chapter  he  treats 
more  at  length  the  question,  Whether 
God  can  dispense  with  the  law  of  nature  1 
which  is  not,  perhaps,  at  least  according 
to  the  notions  of  many,  decided  in  denying 
his  power  to  repeal  it.  He  begins  by  dis- 
tinguishing three  classes  of  moral  laws. 
The  first  are  the  most  general,  such  as 
that  good  is  to  be  done  rather  than  evil ; 
and  with  these  it  is  agreed  that  God  can- 
not dispense.  The  second  is  of  such  as 
the  precepts  of  the  decalogue,  where  the 
chief  difficulty  had  arisen.  Ockham,  Pe- 
ter d'Ailly,  Gerson,  and  others,  incline  to 
say  that  he  can  dispense  with  all  these, 
inasmuch  as  they  are  only  prohibitions 
which  he  has  himself  imposed.  These 
were  the  heads  of  the  nominalist  party ; 
and  their  opinion  might  be  connected, 
though  not  necessarily,  with  the  denial  of 
the  reality  of  mixed  modes.  This  tenet, 
Suarez  observes,  is  rejected  by  all  other 
theologians  as  false  and  absurd.  He  de- 
cidedly holds  that  there  is  an  intrinsic 
goodness  in  actions  independent  of  the 
command  of  God.  Scotus  had  been  of 
opinion  that  God  might  dispense  with  the 
commandments  of  the  second  table,  but 
not  those  of  the  first.  Durand  seems  to 
have  thought  the  fifth  commandment  (our 
sixth)  more  dispensable  than  the  rest, 
probably  on  account  of  the  case  of  Abra- 
ham. But  Aquinas,  Cajetan,  Soto,  with 
many  more,  deny  absolutely  the  dispensa- 
bility of  the  decalogue  in  any  part.  The 
Gordian  knot  about  the  sacrifice  of  Isaac 
is  cut  by  a  distinction,  that  God  did  not 
act  here  as  a  legislator,  but  in  another  ca- 
pacity, as  lord  of  life  and  death,  so  that 
he  only  used  Abraham  as  an  instrument  for 
that  which  he  might  have  done  himself. 
The  third  class  of  moral  precepts  is  of 
those  not  contained  in  the  decalogue,  as 
to  which  he  decides  also  that  God  cannot 
dispense  with  them,  though  he  may  change 
the  circumstances  upon  which  their  obli- 
gation rests,  as  when  he  releases  a  vow. 

24.  The  Protestant  churches  were  not 
generally  attentive  to  casuistical  divinity, 


*  Nulla  potestas  humana,  etiainsi  pontifica  sit,  po< 
test  proprium  aliquod  praeceptum  legis  naturalis  ab- 
rogare,  nee  illud  proprie  et  in  se  minuere,  neque  in 
ipso  dispensare,  f)  8. 


which  smelt  too  much  of  the  English  fas. 
opposite  system.  Eichhornob-  uists-  ier- 
serves,  that  the  first  book  of  k"il)s' Ila11- 
that  class  published  among  the  Luther- 
ans was  by  a  certain  Baldwin  of  Witten- 
berg, in  16-28.*  A  few  books  of  casuistry 
were  published  in  England  during  this  pe- 
riod, though  nothing,  as  well  as  1  remem- 
ber, that  can  be  reckoned  a  system  or 
even  a  treatise  of  moral  philosophy.  Per- 
kins, an  eminent  Calvinistic  divine  of  the 
reign  of  Elizabeth,  is  the  first  of  these  in 
point  of  time.  His  Cases  of  Conscience 
appeared  in  1606.  Of  this  book  I  can 
say  nothing  from  personal  knowledge. 
In  the  works  of  Bishop  Hall  several  par- 
tic-ular  questions  of  this  kind  arc  treated, 
but  not  with  much  ability.  His  distinc- 
tions are  more  than  usually  feeble.  Thus 
usury  is  a.  deadly  sin,  but  it  is  very  diffi- 
cult to  commit  it  unless  we  love  the  sin 
for  its  own  sake  ;  for  almost  every  possi- 
ble case  of  lending  money  will  be  found, 
by  the  limitations  of  the  rule,  to  justify  the 
taking  a  profit  for  the  loan.f  His  casuistry 
about  selling  goods  is  of  the  same  descrip- 
tion :  a  man  must  take  no  advantage  of  the 
scarcity  of  the  commodity,  unless  there 
should  be  just  reason  to  raise  the  price, 
which  he  admits  to  be  often  the  case  in  a 
scarcity.  He  concludes  by  observing  that 
in  this,  as  in  other  well-ordered  nations,  it 
would  be  a  happy  thing  to  have  a  regula- 
tion of  prices.  He  decides,  as  all  the  old 
casuists  did,  that  a  promise  extorted  by  a 
robber  is  binding.  Sanderson  was  the 
most  celebrated  of  the  English  casuists. 
His  treatise,  De  Juramenti  Obligalione,  ap- 
peared in  1647. 

25.  Though  no  proper  treatise  of  moral 
philosophy  came  from  any  Eng-  gelden  De 
lish  writer  in  this  period,  we  jure  Natu- 
have  one  which  must  be  placed  ra'U'"^ 
in  this  class,  strangely  as  the 
subject  has  been  handled  by  its  distinguish- 
ed author.  Seldcn,  published  in  1640,  his 
learned  work,  De  Jure  Naturali  et  Genti- 
um juxta  Disciplinam  Ebraeorum.J  Tho 
object  of  the  author  was  to  trace  the 
opinions  of  the  Jews  on  the  law  of  nature 
and  nations,  or  of  moral  obligation,  as 
distinct  from  the  Mosaic  law;  the  former 
being  a  law  to  which  they  held  all  man- 
kind to  be  bound.  This  theme  had  been, 
of  course,  untouched  by  the  Greek  and 
Roman  philosophers,  nor  was  much  to 
be  found  upon  it  in  modern  writers.  His 


*  Vol.  vi.,  part  i.,  p.  346. 

t  Hall's  Works  (edit.  Pratt),  vol.  viii.,  p.  375. 

j  Juxta  for  secundwn,  we  need  hardly  say,  is  bad 
Latin  :  it  was,  however,  very  common,  and  is  even 
used  by  Joseph  Scaliger,  as  Vossius  mentions  in 
his  treatise  De  Vitiis  Sermonis. 


126 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


purpose  is  therefore  rather  historical  than 
argumentative  ;  but  he  seems  so  general- 
ly to  adopt  the  Jewish  theory  of  natural 
law  that  we  may  consider  him  the  disciple 
of  the  rabbis  as  much  as  their  historian. 
26.  The  origin  of  natural  law  was  not 
Jewish  theo-  drawn  by  the  Jews,  as  some  of 
/y  or  natural  the  jurists  imagined  it  ought  to 
Uw-  be,  from  the  habits  and  instincts 

of  all  animated  beings,  quod  natura  omnia 
animalia  docuit,  according  to  the  defini- 
tion of  the  Pandects.  Nor  did  they 
deem,  as  many  have  done,  the  consent 
of  mankind  and  common  customs  of  na- 
tions to  be  a  sufficient  basis  for  so  perma- 
nent and  invariable  a  standard.  Upon  the 
discrepance  of  moral  sentiments  and  prac- 
tices among  mankind,  Selden  enlarges  in 
the  tone  which  Sextus  Empiricus  had 
taught  scholars,  and  which  the  world  had 
learned  from  Montaigne.  Nor  did  unas- 
sisted reason  seem  equal  to  determine 
moral  questions,  both  from  its  natural  fee- 
bleness, and  because  reason  alone  does 
not  create  an  obligation,  which  depends 
wholly  oil  the  command  of  a  superior.* 
But  God,  as  the  ruler  of  the  universe,  has 
partly  implanted  in  our  minds,  partly 
made  known  to  us  by  exterior  revelation, 
his  own  will,  which  is  our  law.  These 
positions  he  illustrates  with  a  superb  dis- 
play of  erudition,  especially  Oriental,  and 
certainly  with  more  prolixity,  and  less  re- 
gard to  opposite  reasonings,  than  we  should 
desire. 

27.  The  Jewish  writers  concur  in  main- 
seven  precepts  taining  that  certain  short  pre- 
of  the  sons  of  cepts  of  moral  duty  were  oral- 
ly enjoined  by  God  on  the  pa- 
rent of  mankind,  and  afterward  on  the 
sons  of  Noah.  Whether  these  were  sim- 
ply preserved  by  tradition,  or  whether,  by 
an  innate  moral  faculty,  mankind  had  the 
power  of  constantly  discerning  them, 
seems  to  have  been  an  unsettled  point. 
The  principal  of  these  divine  rules  are 
called,  for  distinction,  The  Seven  Precepts 
of  the  Sons  of  Noah.  There  appears, 
however,  to  be  some  variance  in  the  lists, 
as  Selden  has  given  them  from  the  an- 
cient writers.  That  most  received  con- 
sists of  seven  prohibitions;  namely,  of 
idolatry,  blasphemy,  murder,  adultery, 
theft,  rebellion,  and  cutting  a  limb  from 
a  living  animal.  The  last  of  these — the 
sense  of  which,  however,  is  controverted, 
as  well  as  the  third,  but  no  other — are  in- 
dicated in  the  ninth  chapter  of  Genesis. 


*  Selden  says,  in  his  Table-talk,  that  he  can 
understand  no  law  of  nature  but  a  law  of  God. 
He  might  mean  this  in  the  sense  of  Suarez,  with- 
out denying  an  intrinsic  distinction  of  right  and 
wrong. 


28.  Selden  pours  forth  his  unparalleled 
stores  of  erudition  on  all  these  character  of 
subjects,  and  upon  those  which  Seiden-s  work. 
are  suggested  in  the  course  of  his  expla- 
nations.    These   digressions   are   by  no 
means  the  least  useful  part  of  his  long 
treatise.     They  elucidate   some   obscure 
passages   of  Scripture.     But   the  whole 
work  belongs  far  more  to  theological  than 
to  philosophical  investigation,  and  I  have 
placed  it  here  chiefly  out  of  conformity  to 
usage ;  for  undoubtedly  Selden,  though  a 
man  of  very  strong  reasoning  faculties, 
had  not  greatly  turned  them  to  the  princi- 
ples of  natural  law.     His  reliance  on  the 
testimony  of  Jewish   writers,   many  of 
them  by  no  means  ancient,  for  those  pri- 
meval traditions  as  to  the  sons  of  Noah, 
was  in  the  character  of  his  times,  but  it 
will  scarcely  suit  the  more  rigid  criticism 
of  our  own.     His  book,  however,  is  ex- 
cellent for  its  proper  purpose,  that  of  rep- 
resenting Jewish  opinion,  and  is  among 
the   greatest   achievements   in  erudition 
that  any  English  writer  has  performed. 

29.  The  moral  theories  of  Grotius  and 
Hobbes  are  so  much  interwoven  Grotius  and 
with  other  parts  of  their  philos-  Hobbes. 
ophy,  in  the  treatise  De  Jure  Belli  and  in 
the  Leviathan,  that  it  would  be  dissecting 
those  works  too  much  were  we  to  separ- 
ate what  is  merely  ethical  from  what  falls 
within  the  provinces  of  politics  and  juris- 
prudence.    The  whole  must  therefore  be 
deferred  to  the  ensuing  sections  of  this 
chapter.     Nor  is  there  much  in  the  wri- 
tings of  Bacon  or  Descartes  which  falls, 
in  the  sense  we  have  hitherto  been  con- 

idering  it,  under  the  class  of  moral  phi- 
losophy. We  may  therefore  proceed  to 
another  description  of  books,  relative  to 
the  passions  and  manners  of  mankind, 
rather  than,  in  a  strict  sense,  to  their  du- 
;ies,  though  of  course  there  will  frequent- 
y  be  some  intermixture  of  subjects  so  in- 

imately  allied. 

30.  In  the  year  1601,  Peter  Charron,  a 
French  ecclesiastic,  published  his  cnarron  on 
Treatise  on  Wisdom.     The  rep-  wisdom. 
utation  of  this  work  has  been  considera- 
)le  ;  his  countrymen  are  apt  to  name  him 
with  Montaigne  ;  and  Pope  has  given  him 
the  epithet  of  "  more  wise"  than  his  pred- 

cessor,  on  account,  as  Warburton    ex- 
presses it,  of  his   "  moderating   every- 
where the  extravagant  Pyrrhonism  of  his 
riend."    It  is  admitted  that  he  has  cop- 
ed freely  from  the  Essays  of  Montaigne ; 
n  fact,  a  very  large  portion  of  the  Treatise 
on  Wisdom,  not  less,  I  should  conjecture, 
han  one  fourth,  is  extracted  from  them 
with  scarce  any  verbal  alteration.     It  is 
not  the  case  that  he  moderates  the  skep- 


FROM  1600  TO  1650. 


127 


tical  tone  which  he  found  there ;  on  the 
contrary,  the  most  remarkable  passages 
of  that  kind  have  been  transcribed ;  but 
we  must  do  Charron  the  justice  to  say, 
that  he  has  retrenched  the  indecencies, 
the  egotism,  and  the  superfluities.     Char- 
ron does  not  dissemble  his  debts.    "  This," 
he  says  in  his  preface,  "  is  the  collection 
of  a  part  of  my  studies ;    the  form  and 
method  are  my  own.     What  I  have  taken 
from  others  I  have  put  in  their  words,  not 
being  able  to  say  it  better  than  they  have 
done."     In  the  political  part  he  has  bor- 
rowed copiously  from  Lipsius  and  Bodin, 
and  he  is  said  to  have  obligations  to  Du- 
vair.*    The  ancients  also  must  have  con- 
tributed their  share.     It  becomes,  there- 
fore, difficult   to    estimate  the   place  of 
Charron   as   a  philosopher,  because    we 
feel  a  good  deal  of  uncertainty  whether 
any  passage  may  be  his  own.     He  ap- 
pears to  have  been  a  man  formed  in  the 
school  of  Montaigne,  not  much  less  bold 
in  pursuing  the  novel  opinions  of  others, 
but  less  fertile  in  original  thoughts,   so 
that  he  often  falls  into  the  commonplaces 
of  ethics ;   with  more  reading  than  his 
model,  with   more  disciplined   habits,  as 
•well  of    arranging   and   distributing   his 
subject,  as  of  observing  the  sequence  of 
an  argument;  but, on  the  other  hand, with 
far  less  of  ingenuity  in  thinking  and  of 
sprightlincss  of  language. 

31.  A  writer  of  rather  less  extensive 
LaMothe  celebrity  than  Charron  belongs 
le  vayer.  full  as  much  to  the  school  of  Mon- 
io"ues'a  taigne,  though  he  does  not  so 
much  pillage  his  Essays.  This 
was  La  Mothe  le  Vayer,  a  man  distin- 
guished by  his  literary  character  in  the 
court  of  Louis  XIII.,  and  ultimately  pre- 
ceptor both  to  the  Duke  of  Orleans  and 
the  young  king  (Louis  XIV.)  himself.  La 
Mothe  was  habitually  and  universally  a 
skeptic.  Among  several  smaller  works 
we  may  chiefly  instance  his  Dialogues, 
published  many  years  after  his  death  un- 
der the  name  of  Horatius  Tubero.  They 
must  have  been  written  in  the  reign  of 
Louis  XIII.,  and  belong,  therefore,  to  the 
present  period.  In  attacking  every  estab- 
lished doctrine,  especially  in  religion,  he 
goes  much  farther  than  Montaigne,  and 
seems  to  have  taken  much  of  his  meta- 
physical system  immediately  from  Sextus 
Empiricus.  He  is  profuse  of  quotation, 
especially  in  a  dialogue  entitled  Le  Ban- 
quet Sceptique,  the  aim  of  which  is  to 
show  that  there  is  no  uniform  taste  of 
mankind  as  to  their  choice  of  food.  His 
mode  of  arguing  against  the  moral  sense 


Biogr.  Universelle. 


is  entirely  that  of  Montaigne  ;  or,  if  there 
be  any  difference,  is  more  full  of  the  two 
fallacies  by  which  that  lively  writer  de- 
ceives himself;  namely,  the  accumulating 
examples  of  things  arbitrary  and  fanciful 
such  as  modes  of  dress  and  conventional 
usages,  with  respect  to  which  no  one  pre- 
tends that  any  natural  law  can  be  found 
and,  when  he  comes  to  subjects  more  trulj 
moral,  the  turning  our  attention  solely  tc 
the  external  action,  and  not  to  the  motive 
or  principle,  which,  under  different  cir- 
cumstances, may  prompt  men  to  opposite 
courses. 

32.  These  dialogues  are  not  unpleasing 
to  read,  and  exhibit  a  polite  though  rather 
pedantic  style,  riot  uncommon  in  the  sev- 
enteenth century.      They  are,  however, 
very  diffuse,  and  the  skeptical  paradoxes 
become  merely  commonplace  by  repeti- 
tion.    One  of  them  is  more  grossly  inde- 
cent than   any   part  of  Montaigne.     La 
Mothe  le  Vayer  is  not,  on  the  whole,  much 
to  be  admired  as  a  philosopher  ;  little  ap- 
pears to  be  his  own,  and  still  less  is  real- 
ly good.     He  contributed,  no  question,  as 
much  as  any  one  to  the  irreligion  and  con- 
tempt for  morality  prevailing  in  that  court 
where  he  was  in  high  reputation.     Some 
other  works  of  this  author  may  be  classed 
under  the  same  description. 

33.  We  can  hardly  refer  Lord  Bacon's 
Essays  to  the  school  of  Montaigne,  Bacon's 
though  their  title  may  lead  us  to  Essays, 
suspect  that  they  were,  in  some  measure, 

uggested  by  that  most  popular  writer. 
The  first  edition,  containing  ten  essays 
only,  and  those  much  shorter  than  as  we 
low  possess  them,  appeared,  as  has  been 
already  mentioned,  in  1597.  They  were 
eprinted,  with  very  little  variation,  in  1606. 
But  the  enlarged  work  was  published  in 
1612,  and  dedicated  to  Prince  Henry.  He 
;alls  them,  in  this  dedication,  "  certain 
)rief  notes,  set  down  rather  significantly 
han  curiously,  which  I  have  called  Es- 
says. The  word  is  late,  but  the  thing  is 
ancient ;  for  Seneca's  Epistles  to  Lucil- 
us,  if  you  mark  them  well,  are  but  Es- 
says, that  is,  dispersed  meditations,  though 
conveyed  in  the  form  of  epistles."  The 
resemblance,  at  all  events,  to  Montaigne 
s  not  greater  than  might  be  expected  in 
,wo  men  equally  original  in  genius,  and 
mtirely  opposite  in  their  characters  and 
urcumstances.  One,  by  an  instinctive  fe- 
icity,  catches  some  of  the  characteristics 
of  human  nature  ;  the  other,  by  profound 
eflection,  scrutinizes  and  dissects  it. 
One  is  too  negligent  for  the  inquiring  read- 
sr,  the  other  too  formal  and  sententious 
for  one  who  seeks  to  be  amused.  We  de- 
ight  in  one,  we  admire  the  other;  but 


128 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


this  admiration  has  also  its  own  delight. 
In  one  we  find  more  of  the  sweet  temper 
and  tranquil  contemplation  of  Plutarch,  in 
the  other  more  of  the  practical  wisdom 
and  somewhat  ambitious  prospects  of  Sen- 
eca. It  is  characteristic  of  Bacon's  phil- 
osophical writings  that  they  have  in  them 
a  spirit  of  movement,  a  perpetual  refer- 
ence to  what  man  is  to  do  in  order  to  an 
end,  rather  than  to  his  mere  speculation 
upon  what  is.  In  his  Essays,  this  is 
naturally  still  more  prominent.  They  are, 
as  quaintly  described  in  the  title-page  of 
the  first  edition,  "  places  (loci)  of  persua- 
sion and  dissuasion  ;"  counsels  for  those 
who  would  be  great  as  well  as  wise. 
They  are  such  as  sprang  from  a  mind  ar- 
dent in  two  kinds  of  ambition.,  and  hesita- 
ting whether  to  found  a  new  philosophy  or 
to  direct  the  vessel  of  the  state.  We  per- 
ceive, however,  that  the  immediate  reward 
attending  greatness,  as  is  almost  always 
the  case,  gave  it  a  preponderance  in  his 
mind,  and  hence  his  Essays  are  more  oft- 
en political  than  moral ;  they  deal  with 
mankind,  not  in  their  general  faculties  or 
habits,  but  in  their  mutual  strife,  their  en- 
deavours to  rule  others  or  to  avoid  their 
rule.  He  is  more  cautious  and  more  com- 
prehensive, though  not  more  acute,  than 
Machiavel,  who  often  becomes  too  dog- 
matic through  the  habit  of  referring  every- 
thing to  a  particular  aspect  of  political  so- 
cieties. Nothing  in  the  Prince  or  the 
Discourses  on  Livy  is  superior  to  the  Es- 
says on  Seditions,  on  Empire,  on  Innova- 
tions, or  generally  those  which  bear  on 
the  dexterous  management  of  a  people  by 
their  rulers.  Both  these  writers  have 
what,  to  our  more  liberal  age,  appears  a 
counselling  of  governors  for  their  own 
rather  than  their  subjects'  advantage  ;  but 
as  this  is  generally  represented  to  be  the 
best  means,  though  not,  as  it  truly  is,  the 
real  end,  their  advice  tends,  on  the  whole, 
to  advance  the  substantial  benefits  of  gov- 
ernment. 

34.  The  transcendent  strength  of  Ba- 
Theirex-  con's  mind  is  visible  in  the  whole 
ceiience.  tcnour  of  these  Essays,  unequal  as 
they  must  be  from  the  very  nature  of  such 
compositions.  They  are  deeper  and  more 
discriminating  than  any  earlier,  or  almost 
any  later,  work  in  the  English  language, 
full  of  recondite  observation,  long  matured 
and  carefully  sifted.  It  is  true  that  we 
might  wish  for  more  vivacity  and  ease ; 
Bacon,  who  had  much  wit,  had  little  gay- 
ety ;  his  Essays  are,  consequently,  stiff 
and  grave  where  the  subject  might  have 
been  touched  with  a  lively  hand ;  thus  it 
is  in  those  on  Gardens  and  on  Building. 
The  sentences  have  sometimes  too  apoph- 


thegmatic  a  form,  and  want  coherence, 
the  historical  instances,  though  far  less 
frequent  than  with  Montaigne,  have  a  lit- 
tle the  look  of  pedantry  to  our  eyes.  But 
it  is  from  this  condensation,  from  this 
gravity,  that  the  work  derives  its  peculiar 
impressiveness.  Few  books  are  more 
quoted,  and,  what  is  not  always  the  case 
with  such  books,  we  may  add,  that  few  are 
more  generally  read.  In  this  respect  they 
lead  the  van  of  our  prose  literature  ;  for 
no  gentleman  is  ashamed  of  owning  that 
he  has  not  read  the  Elizabethan  writers ; 
but  it  would  be  somewhat  derogatory  to  a 
man  of  the  slightest  claim  to  polite  let- 
ters were  he  unacquainted  with  the  Es- 
says of  Bacon.  It  is,  indeed,  little  worth 
while  to  read  this  or  any  other  book  for 
reputation'  sake  ;  but  very  few  in  our  lan- 
guage so  well  repay  the  pains,  or  afford 
more  nourishment  to  the  thoughts.  They 
might  be  judiciously  introduced,  with  a 
small  number  more,  into  a  sound  method 
of  education ;  one  that  should  make  wis- 
dom, rather  than  mere  knowledge,  its  ob- 
ject, and  might  become  a  textbook  of  ex- 
amination in  our  schools. 

35.  It  is  rather  difficult  to  fix  upon  the 
fittest  place  for  bringing  forward  Feitham's 
some  books,  which,  though  moral  Resolves. 
in  they;  subject,  belong  to  the  general  lit- 
erature of  the  age ;  and  we  might  strip 
the  province  of  polite  letters  of  what  have 
been  reckoned  its  chief  ornaments.  I 
shall,  therefore,  select  here  such  only  as 
are  more  worthy  of  consideration  for  their 
matter  than  for  the  style  in  which  it  is  de- 
livered. Several  that  might  range,  more 
or  less,  under  the  denomination  of  moral 
essays,  were  published  both  in  English  and 
in  other  languages.  But  few  of  them  are 
now  read,  or  even  much  known  by  name. 
One,  which  has  made  a  better  fortune  than 
the  rest,  demands  mention,  the  Resolves 
of  Owen  Feltham.  Of  this  book,  the  first 
part  of  which  was  published  in  1R27,  the 
second  not  till  after  the  middle  of  the  cen- 
tury, it  is  not  uncommon  to  meet  with 
high  praises  in  those  modern  writers  who 
profess  a  faithful  allegiance  to  our  older 
literature.  For  myself,  I  can  only  say 
that  Feltham  appears  not  only  a  laboured 
and  artificial  scholar,  but  a  shallow  writer. 
Among  his  many  faults,  none  strikes  me 
more  than  a  want  of  depth,  which  his 
pointed  and  sententious  manner  renders 
more  ridiculous.  Sallust,  among  the  an- 
cients, is  a  great  dealer  in  such  oracular 
truisms,  a  style  of  writing  that  soon  be- 
comes disagreeable.  There  are  certainly 
exceptions  to  this  vacuity  of  original 
meaning  in  Feltham  ;  it  would  be  possible 
to  fill  a  few  pages  with  extracts  not  unde- 


FROM  1600  TO  1650. 


129 


serving  of  being  read,  with  thoughts  just 
and  judicious,  though  never  deriving  much 
lustre  from  his  diction.  He  is  one  of  our 
worst  writers  in  point  of  style  ;  with  little 
vigour,  he  has  little  elegance  ;  his  English 
is  impure  to  an  excessive  degree,  and  full 
of  words  unauthorized  by  any  usage. 
Pedantry  and  the  novel  phrases  which 
Greek  and  Latin  etymology  was  supposed 
to  warrant,  appear  in  most  productions  of 
this  period ;  but  Feltham  attempted  to 
bend  the  English  idiom  to  his  own  affec- 
tations. The  moral  reflections  of  a  se- 
rious and  thoughtful  mind  are  generally 
pleasing,  and  to  this,  perhaps,  is  partly  ow- 
ing the  kind  of  popularity  which  the  Re- 
solves of  Feltham  have  obtained ;  but 
they  may  be  had  more  agreeably  and  prof- 
itably in  other  books.* 

36.  A  superior  genius  to  that  of  Felt- 
Browne's  nam  is  exhibited  in  the  Religio 
Religio  Medici  of  Sir  Thomas  Browne. 

3icL  This  little  book  made  a  remark- 
able impression  ;  it  was  soon  translated 
into  several  languages,  and  is  highly  ex- 
tolled by  Coringius  and  others,  who.  could 
only  judge  through  these  versions.  Putin, 
though  he  rather  slights  it  himself,  tells  us 
m  one  of  his  letters  that  it  was  very  pop- 
ular at  Paris.  The  character  which  John- 
son has  given  of  the  Religio  Medians  well 
known  ;  and  though,  perhaps,  rather  too  fa- 
vourable, appears  in  general  just.f  The 


*  This  is  a  random  sample  of  Feltharrvs  style : 
"  Of  all  objects  of  sorrow,  a  distressed  king  is  the 
most  pitiful,  because  it  presents  us  most,  the  frailty 
of  humanity,  and  cannot  but  most  midnight  the  sou! 
of  him  that  is  fallen.  The  sorrows  of  a  deposed 
king  are  like  the  distorquements  of  a  darted  con- 
science, which  none  can  know  but  he  that  hath  lost 
a  crown.1' — Cent,  i.,  61.  We  find,  not  long  after,  the 
following  precious  phrase  :  "  The  nature  that  is 
arted  with  the  subtleties  of  time  and  practice,"  i., 
63.  In  one  page  we  have  obnubilate,  nested,  parallel 
(as  a  verb),  fails  (failings),  uncurtain,  depraving  (ca- 
lumniating), i.,  50.  And  we  are  to  be  disgusted 
with  such  vile  English,  or,  properly,  no  English,  for 
the  sake  of  the  sleepy  saws  of  a  trivial  morality. 
Such  defects  are  not  compensated  by  the  better  and 
more  striking  thoughts  we  may  occasionally  light 
upon.  In  reading  Feltham,  nevertheless,  I  seemed 
to  perceive  some  resemblance  to  the  tone  and  way 
of  thinking  of  the  Turkish  Spy,  which  is  a  great 
compliment  to  the  former;  for  the  Turkish  Spy  is 
neither  disagreeable  nor  superficial.  The  resetn- 
jlance  must  lie  in  a  certain  contemplative  melan- 
:holy,  rather  serious  than  severe,  in  respect  to  the 
\orld  and  its  ways;  and  as  Feltham's  Resolves 
seem  to  have  a  charm,  by  the  editions  they  have 
gone  through  and  the  good  name  they  have  gained, 
1  can  only  look  for  it  in  this. 

t  "The  Religio  Medici  was  no  sooner  published 
than  it  excited  the  attention  of  the  public  by  the 
novelty  of  paradoxes,  the  dignity  of  sentiment,  the 
quick  succession  of  images,  the  multitude  of  ab- 
struse allusions,  the  subtlety  of  disquisition,  and  the 
strength  of  language."— Life  of  Browne  (in  John- 
son's Works,  xii.,  275). 

VOL.  II.— R 


mind  of  Browne  was  fertile,  and,  according 
to  the  current  use  of  the  word,  ingenious : 
his  analogies  are  original  and  sometimes 
brilliant ;  and  as  his  learning  is  also  of 
things  out  of  the  beaten  path,  this  gives  a 
peculiar  and  uncommon  air  to  all  his  wri- 
tings, and  especially  to  the  Religio  Medici. 
He  was,  however,  far  removed  from  real 
philosophy,  both  by  his  turn  of  mind  and 
by  the  nature  of  his  erudition  ;  he  seldom 
reasons ;  his  thoughts  are  desultory ;  some- 
times he  appears  skeptical  or  paradoxical, 
but  credulity  and  deference  to  authority 
prevail.  He  belonged  to  the  class,  numer- 
ous at  that  time  incur  church,  who  halted 
between  popery  and  Protestantism  ;  and 
this  gives  him,  on  all  such  topics,  an  ap- 
pearance of  vacillation  and  irresoluteness 
which  probably  represents  the  real  state 
of  his  mind.  His  paradoxes  do  not  seem 
very  original,  nor  does  he  arrive  at  them 
by  any  process  of  argument;  they  are 
more  like  traces  of  his  reading  casually 
suggesting  themselves,  and  supported  by 
his  own  Higenuity.  His  style  is  not  flow- 
ing, bat  vigorous  ;  his  choice  of  words  not 
elegant,  and  even  approaching  to  barba- 
rism as  English  phrase  ;  yet  there  is  an  im- 
pressiveness,  an  air  of  reflection  and  sin- 
cerity iu  Browne's  writings,  which  redeem 
many  of  their  faults.  His  egotism  is  equal 
to  that  of  Montaigne,  but  with  this  differ- 
ence, that  it  is  the  egotism  of  a  melan- 
choly mind,  which  generally  becomes  un- 
pleasing.  This  melancholy  temperament 
is  characteristic  of  Browne.  "  Let's  talk 
of  graves,  and  worms,  and  epitaphs"  seems 
his  motto.  His  best  written  work,  the 
Hydriotaphia,  is  expressly  an  essay  on  se- 
pulchral urns ;  but  the  same  taste  for  the 
circumstances  of  mortality  leavens  also 
the  Religio  Medici. 

37.  The  thoughts  of  Sir  Walter  Raleigh 
on  moral  prudence  are  few,  but  seiden's  Ta- 
precious.  And  some  of  the  ble-talk- 
bright  sallies  of  Selden  recorded  in  his 
Table-talk  are  of  the  same  description, 
though  the  book  is  too  miscellaneous  to 
fall  under  any  single  head  of  classification. 
The  editor  of  this  very  short  and  small 
volume,  which  gives,  perhaps,  a  more  ex- 
alted notion  of  Selden's  natural  talents 
than  any  of  his  learned  writings,  requests 
the  reader  to  distinguish  times,  and  "  in 
his  fancy  to  carry  along  with  him  the 
when  and  the  why  many  of  these  things 
were  spoken."  This  intimation  accounts 
for  the  different  spirit  in  which  he  may 
seem  to  combat  the  follies  of  the  prelates 
at  one  time,  and  of  the  Presbyterians  or 
fanatics  at  another.  These  sayings  are 
not  always,  apparently,  well  reported ; 
ome  seem  to  have  been  misunderstood, 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


and  in  others  the  limiting  clauses  to  have 
been  forgotten.  But,  on  the  whole,  they 
are  full  of  vigour,  raciness,  and  a  kind  of 
scorn  of  the  half-learned,  far  less  rude,  but 
more  cutting  than  that  of  Scaliger.  It  has 
been  said  that  the  Table-talk  of  Selden  is 
worth  all  the  Ana  of  the  Continent.  In 
this  I  should  be  disposed  to  concur ;  but 
they  are  not  exactly  works  of  the  same 
class. 

38.  We  must  now  descend  much  lower, 
Osbom's   and.  c°ul(i  mid  little  worth  remem- 
Adviceto  bering.      Osborn's  Advice  to  his 
his  Son     gon  may  be  reckoned  among  the 
moral  and  political  writings  of  this  period. 
It  is  not  very  far  above  mediocrity,  and 
contains  a  good  deal  that  is  commonplace, 
yet  with  a  considerable  sprinkling  of  sound 
sense  and  observation.     The  style  is  rath- 
er apophthegmatic,  though  by  no  means 
more  so  than  was  then  usual. 

39.  A  few  books,  English  as  well  as 
John  Vaien-  foreign,  are  purposely  deferred 
tine  Andrea;.  for  t,jje  present;  I  am  rather  ap- 
prehensive that  I  shall  be  fountf  to  have 
overlooked  some  not  unworthy  of  notice. 
One,  written  in  Latin  by  a  German  writer, 
has  struck  me  as  displaying  a  spirit  which 
may  claim  for  it  a  place' among  the  livelier 
and  lighter  class,  though  with  serious  in- 
tent, of  moral  essays.     John  Valentine 
Andreac  was  a  man  above  his  age,  and  a 
singular  contrast  to  the  narrow  and  pedan- 
tic herd  of  German  scholars  and  theologi- 
ans.    He  regarded  all  things  around  him 
with  a  sarcastic  but  benevolent  philosophy, 
keen  in  exposing  the  errors  of  mankind, 
yet  only  for  the  sake  of  amending  them. 
It  has  been  supposed  by  many  that  he  in- 
vented the  existence  of  the  famous  Rosi- 
crucian  society,  not  so  much,  probably,  for 
the  sake  of  mystification,  as  to  suggest  an 
institution   so  praiseworthy  and   philan- 
thropic as  he  delineated  for  the  imitation 
of  mankind.     This,  however,  is  still  a  de- 
bated problem  in  Germany.*    But,  among 
his  numerous  writings,  that  alone  of  which 
I  know  anything  is  entitled  in  the  original 
Latin  Mythologia?  Christiana?,  sive  Virtu- 
turn  et  Vitiorum  Vita?  Humana?  Imaginum 
Libri  Tres  (Strasburg,  1618).  Herder  has 
translated  a  part  of  this  book  in  the  fifth 
volume  of  his  Zerstreute  Blatter ;  and  it 
is  here  that  I  have  met  with  it.     Andrea^ 
wrote,  I  believe,  solely  in  Latin,  and  his 
works  appear  to  be  scarce,  at  least  in  Eng- 
land.    These  short  apologues,  which  Her- 
der has  called  Parables,  are  written  with 
uncommon  terseness  of  language,  a  hap- 
py and  original  vein  of  invention,  and  a 


*  Brucker,  Lv.,  735.    Biogr.  Univ.,  art.  Andreae,  et 
alibi. 


philosophy  looking  down  on  common  life 
without  ostentation  and  without  passion. 
He  came,  too,  before  Bacon ;  but  he  had 
learned  to  scorn  the  disputes  of  the 
schools,  and  had  sought  for  truth  with  an 
entire  love,  even  at  the  hands  of  Cardan 
and  Campanella.  I  will  give  a  specimen, 
in  a  note,  of  the  peculiar  manner  of  An- 
drea? ;  but  my  translation  does  not,  per- 
haps, justice  to  that  of  Herder.  The  idea, 
it  may  be  observed,  is  now  become  more 
trite.* 


SECT.  II.     ON  POLITICAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

Change  in  the  Character  of  Political  Writings. — 
Bellenden  and  others. — Patriarchal  Theory  refu- 
ted by  Suarez. — Allhusius. — Political  Economy 
of  Serra. — Hobbes— and  Analysis  of  his  Politi- 
cal Treatises. 

40.  THE  recluse  philosopher,  who,  like 
Descartes  in  his  country-house  near 
Utrecht,  investigates  the  properties  of 
quantity  or  the  operations  of  the  human 
mind  while  nations  are  striving  for  con- 
quest and  factions  for  ascendancy,  hears 
that  tumultuous  uproar  but  as  the  dash  of 
the  ocean  waves  at  a  distance  ;  and  it  may 
even  serve,  like  music  that  falls  upon  the 
poet's  ear,  to  wake  in  him  some  new 
train  of  high  thought,  or,  at  the  least,  to 
confirm  his  love  of  the  absolute  and  the 
eternal  by  comparison  with  the  imperfec- 


*  "  The  Pen  and  the  Sword  strove  with  each 
other  for  superiority,  and  the  voices  of  the  judges 
were  divided.  The  men  of  learning  talked  much 
and  persuaded  many  ;  the  men  of  arms  were  fierce, 
and  compelled  many  to  join  their  side.  Thus  no- 
thing could  be  determined  ;  it  followed  that  both 
were  left  to  fight  it  out,  and  settle  their  dispute  in 
single  combat. 

"  On  one  side  books  rustled  in  the  libraries,  on  the 
other  arms  rattled  in  the  arsenals ;  men  looked  on 
in  hope  and  fear,  and  waited  the  end. 

"The  Pen,  consecrated  to  truth, 'was  notorious 
for  much  falsehood  ;  the  Sword,  a  servant  of  God, 
was  stained  with  innocent  blood ;  both  hoped  for 
the  aid  of  Heaven,  both  found  its  wrath. 

"The  State,  which  had  need  of  both,  and  disli- 
ked the  manners  of  both,  would  put  on  the  appear- 
ance of  caring  for  the  weal  and  wo  of  neither.  The 
Pen  was  weak,  but  quick,  glib,  well  exercised,  and 
very  bold  when  one  provoked  it.  The  Sword  was 
stern,  implacable,  but  less  compact  and  subtle,  so 
that  on  both  sides  the  victory  remained  uncertain. 
At  length,  for  the  security  "of  both,  the  common 
weal  pronounced  that  both  in  turn  should  stand  by 
her  side  and  bear  with  each  other.  For  that  only 
is  a  happy  country  where  the  Pen  and  the  Sword 
are  faithful  servants,  not  where  either  governs  by 
its  arbitrary  will  and  passion." 

If  the  touches  in  this  little  piece  are  not  always 
clearly  laid  on,  it  may  be  ascribed  as  much,  perhaps, 
to  their  having  passed  through  two  translations  as 
to  the  fault  of  the  excellent  writer.  But  in  this 
early  age  we  seldom  find  the  entire  neatness  and 
felicity  which  later  times  attained. 


FROM  1600  TO  1650. 


131 


tion  and  error  that  besets  the  world. 
Such  is  the  serene  temple  of  philosophy 
which  the  Roman  poet  has  contrasted  with 
the  storm  and  the  battle,  with  the  passions 
of  the  great  and  the  many,  the  perpetual 
struggle  of  man  against  his  fellows.  But 
if  he  who  might  dwell  on  this  vantage- 
ground  descends  into  the  plain,  and  takes 
so  near  a  view  of  the  world's  strife  that 
he  sees  it  as  a  whole  very  imperfectly, 
while  the  parts  to  which  he  approaches 
are  magnified  beyond  their  proportion  ;  if 
especially  he  mingles  with  the  combat, 
and  shares  its  hopes  and  its  perils,  though 
in  many  respects  he  may  know  more  than 
those  who  keep  aloof,  he  will  lose  some- 
thing of  that  faculty  of  equal  and  compre- 
hensive vision,  in  which  the  philosophical 
temper  consists.  Such  has  very  frequent- 
ly, or  more  or  less,  perhaps,  in  almost  ev- 
ery instance,  been  the  fate  of  the  writer 
on  general  politics ;  if  his  pen  has  not  been 
solely  employed  with  a  view  to  the  ques- 
tions that  engage  attention  in  his  own  age, 
it  has  generally  been  guided,  in  a  certain 
degree,  by  regard  to  them. 

41.  In  the  sixteenth  century  we  have 
seen  that   notions   of  popular 

Abandon-  .    ,  ,  ,      -  .,  .      .,  •,-^        /. 

mcntof  ami-  rights  and  of  the  amissibility  of 
monarchical  sovereign  power  for  miscon- 

theories  {]l]ct  were  ajternately  broached 

by  the  two  great  religious  parties  of  Eu- 
rope, according  to  the  necessity  in  which 
they  stood  for  such  weapons  against 
their  adversaries.  Passive  obedience  was 
preached  as  a  duty  by  the  victorious,  re- 
bellion was  claimed  as  a  right  by  the 
vanquished.  The  history  of  France  and 
England,  and  partly  of  other  countries, 
was  the  clew  to  these  politics.  But  in  the 
following  period,  a  more  tranquil  state  of 
public  opinion,  and  a  firmer  hand  upon  the 
reins  of  power,  put  an  end  to  such  books 
as  those  of  Languet,  Buchanan,  Rose,  and 
Mariana.  The  last  of  these,  by  the  vindi- 
cation of  tyrannicide  in  his  treatise  De 
Rege,  contributed  to  bring  about  a  reaction 
in  political  literature.  The  Jesuits  in 
France,  whom  Henry  IV.  was  inclined  to 
favour,  publicly  condemned  the  doctrine 
of  Mariana  in  1606.  A  book  by  Becanus, 
and  another  by  Suarez,  justifying  regicide, 
were  condemned  by  the  Parliament  of 
Paris  in  1612.*  The  assassination,  in- 
deed, of  Henry  IV.,  committed  by  one,  not, 
perhaps,  metaphysically  speaking,  sane, 
but  whose  aberration  of  intellect  had  evi- 
dently been  either  brought  on  or  nourished 
by  the  pernicious  theories  of  that  school, 
created  such  an  abhorrence  of  the  doc- 
trine, that  neither  the  Jesuits  nor  others 

*  Mezeray,  Hist,  de  la  M&re  et  du  Fils. 


ventured  afterward  to  teach  it.  Those, 
also,  who  magnified,  as  far  as  circum- 
stances would  permit,  the  alleged  suprem- 
acy of  the  See  of  Rome  over  temporal 
princes,  were  little  inclined  to  set  up,  like 
Mariana,  a  popular  sovereignty,  a  right  of 
the  multitude  not  emanating  from  the 
Church,  and  to  which  the  Church  itself 
might  one  day  be  under  the  necessity  of 
submitting.  This  became,  therefore,  a  pe- 
riod favourable  to  the  theories  of  absolute 
power ;  not  so  much  shown  by  means  of 
their  positive  assertion  through  the  press, 
as  by  the  silence  of  the  press,  compara- 
tively speaking,  on  all  political  theories 
whatever. 

42.  The  political  writings  of  this  part  of 
the  seventeenth  century  assumed, 

in  consequence,  more  of  an  his-  literature 
torical,  or,  as  we  might  say,  a  sta-  becomes 
tistical  character.  Learning  was  hlslorical- 
employed  in  systematic  analyses  of  an- 
cient or  modern  forms  of  government,  in 
dissertations  explanatory  of  institutions, 
in  copious  and  exact  statements  of  the 
true,  rather  than  arguments  upon  the  right 
or  the  expedient.  Some  of  the  very  nu- 
merous works  of  Herman  Coringius,  a 
professor  at  Helmstadt,  seem  to  fall  with- 
in this  description.  But  none  are  better 
known  than  a  collection  made  by  the  El- 
zevirs,  at  different  times  near  the  middle 
of  this  century,  containing  accounts,  chiefly 
published  before,  of  the  political  constitu- 
tions of  European  commonwealths.  This 
collection,  which  is  in  volumes  of  the 
smallest  size,  may  be  called,  for  distinction, 
the  Elzevir  Republics.  It  is  very  useful 
in  respect  of  the  knowledge  of  facts  it  im- 
parts, but  rarely  contains  anything  of  a 
philosophical  nature.  Statistical  descrip- 
tions of  countries  are  much  allied  to  these 
last;  some,  indeed,  are  included  in  the 
Elzevir  series.  They  were,  as  yet,  not 
frequent ;  but  I  might  have  mentioned  in 
the  first  volume  one  of  the  earliest,  the 
Description  of  the  Low  Countries  by  Lu- 
dovico  Guicciardini,  brother  of  the  his- 
torian. 

43.  Those,  however,  were  not  entirely 
wanting  who  took  a  more  philo-  Beiienden 
sophical  view  of  the  social  rela-  destaiu. 
tions  of  mankind.   Among  these  a  very  re- 
spectable place  should  be  assigned  to  a 
Scotsman,  by  name  Beiienden,  whose  trea- 
tise De  Statu,in  three  books,  is  dedicated  to 
Prince  Charles  in  1615.  The  first  of  these 
books  is  entitled  De  Statu  prisci  orbis  in 
religione,  re  politica  et  literis;  the  sec- 
ond, Ciceronis   Princeps,  sive   de    statu 
principis  et  imperii ;  the  third,  Ciceronis 
Consul,   Senator,   Senatusque    Romanus, 
sive  de  statu  reipublicae  et  urbis  imperan- 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


lis  orbi.  The  first  two  books  are,  in  a 
general  sense,  political ;  the  last  relates 
entirely  to  the  Roman  polity,  but  builds 
much  political  precept  on  this.  Bellenden 
seems  to  have  taken  a  more  comprehen- 
sive view  of  history  in  his  first  book,  and 
to  have  reflected  more  philosophically  on 
it,  than  perhaps  any  one  had  done  before  ; 
at  least  I  do  not  remember  any  work  of 
so  early  an  age  which  reminds  me  so 
much  of  Vico  and  the  Grandeur  et  Deca- 
dence of  Montesquieu.  We  can  hardly 
make  an  exception  for  Bodin,  because  the 
Scot  is  so  much  more  regularly  historical, 
and  so  much  more  concise.  The  first  book 
contains  little  more  than  forty  pages. 
Bellenden's  learning  is  considerable,  and 
without  that  pedantry  of  quotation  which 
makes  most  books  of  the  age  intolerable. 
The  latter  parts  have  less  originality  and 
reach  of  thought.  This  book  was  re- 
printed, as  is  well  known,  in  1787 ;  but 
the  celebrated  preface  of  the  editor  has 
had  the  effect  of  eclipsing  the  original 
author ;  Parr  was  constantly  read  and 
talked  of,  Bellenden  never. 

44.  The    Politics  of   Campanella    are 
Campa-    w^rPed  by  a  desire  to  please  the 
lieiia's     court  of  Rome,  which  he  recom- 
Poiitics.   mends  as  fit  t0  enjoy  a  universal 
monarchy,  at  least  by  supreme  control ; 
and  observes  with  some  acuteness,  that 
no  prince  had  been  able  to  obtain  a  uni- 
versal ascendant  over  Christendom,  be- 
cause the  presiding  vigilance  of  the  Holy 
See  has  regulated  their  mutual  conten- 
tions, exalting  one  and  depressing  another, 
as  seemed  expedient  for  the  good  of  re- 
ligion.*   This  book  is  pregnant  with  deep 
reflection  on  history ;  it  is  enriched,  per- 
haps, by  the  study  of  Bodin,  but  is  much 
LaMothe  more  concise.    In  one  of  the  Dia- 
le  vayer.   logues  of  La  Mothe  le  Vayer,  we 
find  the  fallacy  of  some  general  maxims 
in  politics  drawn  from  a  partial  induction 
well  exposed,  by  showing  the  instances 
where  they  have  wholly  failed.     Though 
he  pays  high  compliments  to  Louis  XIII. 
and  to  Richelieu,  he  speaks  freely  enough, 
in  his  skeptical  way,  of  the  general  advan- 
tages of  monarchy. 

45.  Gabriel  Naude,  a  man  of  extensive 
Naude's  learning,  acute  understanding,  and 
coups     many  good  qualities,  but  rather  lax 

•  in  religious  and  moral  principle,  ex- 
cited some  attention  by  a  very  small  vol- 
ume, entitled  Considerations  sur  les  coups 
d'etat,  which  he  wrote  while  young,  at 


*  Nullus  hacterras  Christianus  princeps  mo- 
narchiam  super  cunctos  Christianos  populos  sibi 
cpnservare  potuit.  Quoniam  papa  praeest  illis,  et 
dissipat  erigitque  illorum  conatus  prout  religion! 
expedit.— C.  8. 


Rome,  in  the  service  of  the  Cardinal  de 
Bagne.  In  this  he  maintains  the  bold 
contempt  of  justice  and  humanity  in  po- 
litical emergencies  which  had  brought  dis- 
grace on  the  Prince  of  Machiavel,  blaming 
those  who,  in  his  own  country,  had  aban- 
doned the  defence  of  the  St.  Bartholomew 
massacre.  The  book  is,  in  general,  heavy 
and  not  well  written ;  but,  coming  from  a 
man  of  cool  head,  clear  judgment,  and 
considerable  historical  knowledge,  it  con- 
tains some  remarks  not  unworthy  of 
notice. 

46.  The  ancient  philosophers,  the  civil 
lawyers,  and  by  far  the  majority  Pa,ri8rchal 
of  later  writers  had  derived  the  iiieory  of 
origin  of  government  from  some  §overnme«'- 
agreement,  or  tacit  consent,  of  the  com- 
munity.    Bodin,  explicitly  rejecting  this 
hypothesis,  referred  it  to  violent  usurpa- 
tion.    But  in  England,  about  the  begin- 
ning of  the  reign  of  James,  a  different 
theory  gained  with  the  Church;   it  was 
assumed,  for  it  did  not  admit  of  proof,  that 
a  patriarchal  authority  had  been  transfer- 
red by  primogeniture  to  the  heir-general 
of  the  human  race  -,  so  that  kingdoms  were 
but  enlarged  families,  and  an  indefeasible 
right  of  monarchy  was  attached  to  their 
natural  chief,  which,  in  consequence  of  the 
impossibility  of  discovering  him,  devolved 
upon  the  representative  of  the  first  sov- 
ereign who  could  be  historically  proved 
to  have  reigned  over  any  nation.     This 
had  not,  perhaps,  hitherto  been  maintained 
at  length  in  any  published  book,  but  will 
be  found  to  have  been  taken  for  granted 
in  more  than  one.     It  was,  of  course,  in 
favour  with  James  I.,  who  had  a  very 
strong  hereditary  title  ;  and  it  might  seem 
to  be  countenanced  by  the  fact  of  Highland 
and  Irish  clanship,  which  does  really  affect 
to  rest  on  a  patriarchal  basis. 

47.  This  theory  as  to  the  origin  of  po- 
litical society,  or  one  akin  to  it,  Refuted  by 
appears  to  have  been  espoused  Suarez. 
by  some  on  the  Continent.     Suarez,  in 
the  second  book  of  his  great  work  on  law, 
observes,  in  a  remarkable  passage,  that 
certain  canonists  hold  civil  magistracy  to 
have   been  conferred  by   God   on   some 
prince,  and  to  remain  always  in  his  heirs 
by  succession ;  but  "  that  such  an  opinion 
has  neither  authority  nor  foundation.    For 
this  power,  by  its  very  nature,  belongs  to 
no  one  man,  but  to  a  multitude  of  men. 
This  is  a  certain  conclusion,  being  com- 
mon to  all  our  authorities,  as  we  find  by 
St.  Thomas,  by  the  civil  laws,  and  by  the 
great  canonists  and  casuists ;  all  of  whom 
agree  that  the  prince  has  that  power  of 
law-giving  which  the  people  have  given 
him.    And  the  reason  is  evident^  since  all 


FROM  1600  TO  1650. 


133 


injn  are  born  equal,  and,  consequently,  no 
one  has  a  political  jurisdiction  over  an- 
other, nor  any  dominion ;  nor  can  we  give 
any  reason  from  the  nature  of  the  thing 
why  one  man  should  govern  another  rath- 
er than  the  contrary.  It  is  true  that  one 
might  allege  the  primacy  which  Adam 
at  his  creation  necessarily  possessed,  and 
hence  deduce  his  government  over  all 
men,  and  suppose  that  to  be  derived  by 
some  one,  either  through  primogenitary 
descent,  or  through  the  special  appoint- 
ment of  Adam  himself.  Thus  Chrysostom 
has  said  that  the  descent  of  all  men  from 
Adam  signifies  their  subordination  to  one 
sovereign.  But,  in  fact,  we  could  only  in- 
fer from  the  creation  and  natural  origin  of 
mankind  that  Adam  possessed  a  domestic 
or  patriarchal  (oeconomicam),  not  a  po- 
litical authority ;  for  he  had  power  over 
his  wife,  and  afterward  a  paternal  power 
over  his  sons  till  they  were  emancipated  ; 
and  he  might  even,  in  course  of  time,  have 
servants  and  a  complete  family,  and  that 
power  in  respect  of  them  which  is  called 
patriarchal.  But  after  families  began  to 
be  multiplied,  and  single  men  who  were 
heads  of  families  to  be  separated,  they  had 
each  tho  same  power  with  respect  to  their 
own  families.  Nor  did  political  power 
begin  to  exist  till  many  families  began  to 
be  collected  into  one  entire  community. 
Hence,  as  that  community  did  not  begin 
by  Adam's  creation,  nor  by  any  will  of 
his,  but  by  that  of  all  who  formed  it,  we 
cannot  properly  say  that  Adam  had  nat- 
urally a  politicial  headship  in  such  a  so- 
ciety ;  for  there  are  no  principles  of  reason 
from  which  this  could  be  inferred,  since, 
by  the  law  of  nature,  it  is  no  right  of  the 
progenitor  to  be  even  king  of  his  own 
posterity.  And  if  this  cannot  be  proved 
by  the  principles  of  natural  law,  we  have 
no  ground  for  asserting  that  God  has  given 
such  a  power  by  a  special  gift  or  provi- 
dence, inasmuch  as  we  have  no  revelation 
or  Scripture  testimony  to  the  purpose."* 
So  clear,  brief,  and  dispassionate  a  refuta- 
tion might  have  caused  our  English  di- 
vines, who  became  very  fond  of  this  patri- 
archal theory,  to  blush  before  the  Jesuit 
of  Granada. 

48.  Suarez  maintains  it  to  be  of  the  es- 
His  opinion  sence  of  a  law  that  it  be  exacted 
of  law.  for  the  public  good.  An  unjust 
law  is  no  law,  and  does  not  bind  the  con- 
science.! In  this  he  breathes  the  spirit 
of  Mariana.  But  he  shuns  some  of  his 
bolder  assertions.  He  denies  the  right  of 
rising  in  arms  against  a  tyrant  unless  he 


*  Lib.  ii.,  c.  2,  §  3. 

t  Lib.  i.,  c  7;  and  lib.  iii.,  c.  22. 


is  a  usurper;  and  though  he  is  strongly 
for  preserving  the  concession  made  by 
the  kings  of  Spain  to  their  people,  that  no 
taxes  shall  be  levied  without  the  consent 
of  the  Cortes,  does  not  agree  with  those 
who  lay  it  down  as  a  general  rule,  that 
no  prince  can  impose  taxes  on  his  people 
by  his  own  will.*  Suarez  asserts  the  di- 
rect power  of  the  Church  over  heretical 
princes,  but  denies  it  as  to  infidels. f  In 
this  last  point,  as  has  been  seen,  he  fol- 
lows the  most  respectable  authorities  of 
his  nation. 

49.  Bayle  has  taken  notice  of  a  sys- 
tematic treatise  on  Politics  by  John  Al- 
thusius,  a  native  of  Germany.     Of  this  I 
have  only  seen  an  edition  published  at 
Groningen  in  1615,  and  dedicated  to  the 
states  of  West  Friesland.    It  seems,  how- 
ever, from  the  article  in  Bayle,  that  there 
was  one  printed  at  Herborn  in  1603.    Sev- 
eral German  writers  inveigh  against  this 
work  as  full  of  seditious  principles,  in- 
imical to  every  government.     It  is  a  po- 
litical system,  taken  chiefly  from  prece- 
ding authors,  and  very  freely  from  Bodin ; 
with  great  learning,  but  not  very  profitable 
to  read.    The  ephori,  as  he  calls  them,  by 
which  he  means  the  estates  of  a  kingdom, 
have  the  right  to  resist  a  tyrant.    But  this 
right  he  denies  to  the  private  citizen.    His 
chapter  on  this  subject  is  written  more  in 
the  tone  of  the  sixteenth  than  the  seven- 
teenth century,  which,  indeed,  had  scarcely" 
commenced.!    He  answers  in  it  Albericus 
Gentilis,  Barclay,  and  others  who  had  con- 
tended for  passive  obedience,  not  failing 
to  draw  support  from  the  canonists  and 
civilians  whom  he  quotes.    But  the  strong- 
est passage  is  in  his  dedication  to  the 
States  of  Friesland.    Here  he  declares  his 
principle,  that  the  supreme  power  or  sov- 
ereignty (jus  majestatis)  does  not  reside 
in  the  chief  magistrate,  but  in  the  people 
themselves,  and  that  no  other  is  proprietor 
or  usufructuary  of  it,  the  magistrate  being 
the  administrator  of  this  supreme  power, 
but  not  its  owner,  nor  entitled  to  use  it 
for  his  benefit.     And  these  rights  of  sov- 
ereignty are  so  mucl^ponfined  to  the  whole 
community,  that  they  can  no  more  alien- 
ate them  to  another,  whether  they  will  or 
not,  than  a  man  can  transfer  his  own  life.§ 

50.  Few,  even   among  the  Calvinists, 
whose  form  of  government  was  in  some 


*  Lib.  v.,  c.  17.  t  Lib.  iii.,  c.  10. 

Cap.  38.     De  tyrannide  et  ejus  remediis. 

§  Adininistratorem,  procuratorem,  gubernatorem 
jurium  majestatis,  principem  agnosco.  Proprietari- 
um  vero  et  usui'ructuarium  majestatis  nullum  alium 
quam  populum  universum  in  corpus  unum  symbi- 
oticum  ex  pluribus  minoribus  consociationibus  con- 
sociatum,  &c. 


134 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


cases  republican,  would,  in  the  seventeenth 
century,  have  approved  this  strong  lan- 
guage of  Althusius.  But  one  of  their  no- 
ted theologians,  Paraeus,  incurred  the  cen- 
sure of  the  University  of  Oxford  in  1623 
for  some  passages  in  his  Commentary  on 
the  Epistle  to  the  Romans  which  seemed 
to  impugn  their  orthodox  tenet  of  unlimit- 
ed submission.  He  merely  holds  that  sub- 
jects, when  not  private  men,  but  inferior 
magistrates,  may  defend  themselves,  and 
the  state,  and  the  true  religion  even  by 
arms  against  the  sovereign  under  certain 
conditions  ;  because  these  superior  magis- 
trates are  themselves  responsible  to  the 
laws  of  God  and  of  the  state.*  It  was, 
in  truth,  impossible  to  deny  the  right  of 
resistance  in  such  cases  without  "  brand- 
ing the  unsmirched  brow"  of  Protestant- 
ism itself ;  for  by  what  other  means  had 
the  reformed  religion  been  made  to  flour- 
ish in  Holland  and  Geneva,  or  in  Scot- 
land 1  But  in  England,  where  it  had  been 
planted  under  a  more  auspicious  star, 
there  was  little  occasion  to  seek  this  vin- 
dication of  the  Protestant  Church,  which 
had  not,  in  the  legal  phrase,  come  in  by 
disseisin  of  the  state,  but  had  united  with 
the  state  to  turn  out  of  doors  its  predeces- 
sor. That  the  Anglican  refugees  under 
Mary  were  ripe  enough  for  resistance,  or 
even  regicide,  has  been  seen  in  the  former 
volume,  by  an  extract  from  one  of  their 
most  distinguished  prelates. 

51.  Bacon  ought  to  appear  as  a  promi- 
Bacon  ?ent  name  m  political  philosophy, 
if  we  had  never  met  with  it  in  any 
other.  But  we  have  anticipated  much  of 
his  praise  on  this  score  ;  and  it  is-  suffi- 
cient to  repeat  generally,  that  on  such  sub- 
jects he  is  among  the  most  sagacious  of 
mankind.  It  would  be  almost  ridiculous 
to  descend  from  Bacon,  even  when  his  gi- 
ant shadow  does  but  pass  over  our  scene, 
to  the  feebler  class  of  political  moralists, 
such  as  Saavedra,  author  of  Idea  di  un 
principe  politico,  a  wretched  effort  of 
Spain  in  her  degeneracy ;  but  an  Italian 
writer  must  not  be  neglected,  from  the 
remarkable  circumstance  that  he  is  es- 
teemed one  of  the  first  who  have  treated 


*  Subditi  non  privati,  sed  in  magistratu  inferiori 
constitui  adversus  superiorem  magistratum  se  et 
rempublicam  et  ec.clesiam  seu  veram  religionem 
etiam  armis  defendere  jure  possurit,  his  positis 
conditionibus :  1.  Cum  superior  magistratus  de- 
generat  in  tyrannum  ;  2.  Aut  ad  manifestam  idolo- 
latriam  atque  blasphemias  ipsos  vel  subditos  alios 
vult  cogere ;  3.  Cum  ipsis  atrox  infertur  injuria ; 
4.  Si  aliter  incolumes  fortunis  vita  et  conscientia 
esse  non  possint ;  5.  Ne  prsetextu  religionis  aut 
justitiap  sua  quaerant ;  6.  Servata  semper  cxuiKcia 
et  moderamine  inculpatae  tutelse  juxta  leges. — Pa- 
raeus  in  Epist.  ad  Roman.,  col.  1350. 


the  science  of  political  oeconomy.  political 
It  must,  however,  be  understood,  economy, 
that  besides  what  may  be  found  on  the 
subject  in  the  ancients,  many  valuable  ob- 
servations which  must  be  referred  to  po- 
litical ceconomy  occur  in  Bodin  ;  that  the 
Italians  had,  in  the  sixteenth  century,  a 
few  tracts  on  coinage  ;  that  Botero  touch- 
es some  points  of  the  science,  and  that  in 
English  there  were,  during  the  same  age, 
pamphlets  on  public  wealth,  especially 
one  entitled  A  Brief  Conceit  of  English 
Policy.* 

52.  The  author  to  whom  we  allude  is 
Antonia  Serra,  a  native  of  Co-  Serra  on  the 
senza,  whose  short  treatise  on  jnwuisofob- 

...  .        (aiding  mod- 

ule causes  which  may  render  e\  without 

gold  and  silver  abundant  in  milie3- 
countries  that  have  no  mines  is  dedicated 
to  the  Count  de  Lemos,  "  from  the  prison 
of  Vicaria,  this  tenth  day  of  July,  1613." 
It  has  hence  been  inferred,  but  without  a 
shadow  of  proof,  that  Serra  had  been  en- 
gaged in  the  conspiracy  of  his  fellow-citi- 
zen Campanella  fourteen  years  before. 
The  dedication  is  in  a  tone  of  great  flat- 
tery, but  has  no  allusion  to  the  cause  of 
his  imprisonment,  which  might  have  been 
any  other.  He  purposes,  in  his  preface, 
not  to  discuss  political  government  in  gen- 
eral, of  which  he  thinks  that  the  ancients 
have  treated  sufficiently,  if  we  well  un- 
derstood their  works,  and  still  less  of  jus- 
tice and  injustice,  the  civil  law  being 
enough  for  this ;  but  merely  of  what  are 
the  causes  that  render  a  country  destitute 
of  mines  abundant  in  gold  and  silver, 
which  no  one  has  ever  considered,  though 
some  have  taken  narrow  views,  and  fan- 
cied that  a  low  rate  of  exchange  is  the 
sole  means  of  enriching  a  country. 

53.  In  the  first  part  of  this  treatise,  Serra 
divides  the  causes  of  wealth,  that  His  causes 
is,  of  abundance  of  money,  into  of  wealth. 
general  and  particular  accidents  (accident! 
communi  e  proprj),  meaning  by  the  for- 
mer circumstances  which  may  exist   in 
any  country,  by  the  latter  such  as  are  pe- 
culiar to  some.     The  common  accidents 
are    four :    abundance    of   manufactures, 
character  of  the   inhabitants,  extent   of 
commerce,  and  wisdom  of  government. 
The  peculiar  are,  chiefly,  the  fertility  of 
the  soil  and  convenience  of  geographical 
position.     Serra  prefers  manufactures  to 


*  This  bears  the  initials  of  W.  S.,  which  some 
have  idiotically  taken  for  William  Shakspeare.  I 
have  some  reason  to  believe  that  there  was  an  edi- 
tion considerably  earlier  than  that  of  1584,  but, 
from  circumstances  unnecessary  to  mention,  can- 
not produce  the  manuscript  authority  on  which  this 
opinion  is  founded.  It  has  been  reprinted  more 
than  once,  if  1  mistake  not,  in  modern  times. 


FROM  1600  TO  1650. 


135 


agriculture ;  one  of  his  reasons  is  their 
indefinite  capacity  of  multiplication ;  for 
no  man  whose  laud  is  fully  cultivated 
by  sowing  a  hundred  bushels  of  wheat,  can 
sow  with  profit  a  hundred  and  fifty ;  but 
in  manufactures  he  may  not  only  double 
the  produce,  but  do  this  a  hundred  times 
over,  and  that  with  less  proportion  of  ex- 
pense. Though  this  is  now  evident,  it  is, 
perhaps,  what  had  not  been  much  remark- 
ed before. 

54.  Venice,   according  to   Serra,  held 
His  praise  the  first  place  as  a  commercial 

of  Venice.   c[ty^  not  only  jn  Italy,  but  ill  Eu- 

rope  ;  "  for  experience  demonstrates  that 
all  the  merchandises  which  come  from 
Asia  to  Europe  pass  through  Venice,  and 
thence  are  distributed  to  other  parts." 
But,  as  this  must,  evidently  exclude  all  the 
traffic  by  the  Cape  of  Good  Hope,  we 
can  only  understand  Serra  to  mean  the 
trade  with  the  Levant.  It  is,  however, 
worthy  of  observation,  that  we  are  apt  to 
fall  into  a  vulgar  error  in  supposing  that 
Venice  was  crushed,  or  even  materially 
affected,  as  a  commercial  city,  by  the  dis- 
coveries of  the  Portuguese.  She  was,  in 
fact,  more  opulent,  as  her  buildings  of 
themselves  may  prove,  in  the  sixteenth 
century  than  in  any  preceding  age.  The 
French  trade  from  Marseilles  to  the  Le- 
vant, which  began  later  to  flourish,  was 
what  impoverished  Venice,  rather  than 
that  of  Portugal  with  the  East  Indies. 
This  republic  was  the  perpetual  theme  of 
admiration  with  the  Italians.  Serra  com- 
pares Naples  with  Venice  :  one,  he  says, 
exports  grain  to  a  vast  amount,  the  other 
imports  its  whole  subsistence  ;  money  is 
valued  higher  at  Naples,  so  that  there  is 
a  profit  in  bringing  it  in  :  its  export  is  for- 
bidden :  at  Venice  it  is  free ;  at  Naples 
the  public  revenues  are  expended  in  the 
kingdom  ;  at  Venice  they  are  principally 
hoarded.  Yet  Naples  is  poor  and  Venice 
rich.  Such  is  the  effect  of  her  commerce 
and  of  the  wisdom  of  her  government, 
which  is  always  uniform,  while  in  king- 
doms, and  far  more  in  viceroyalties.  the 
system  changes  with  the  persons.  In 
Venice  the  method  of  choosing  magis- 
trates is  in  such  perfection,  that  no  one 
can  come  in  by  corruption  or  favour,  nor 
can  any  one  rise  to  high  offices  who  has 
liot  been  tried  in  the  lower. 

55.  All  causes  of  wealth  except  those 

he  has  enumerated,  Serra  holds 
exchange  °  to  be  subaltern  or  temporary ; 
not  essential  thus  the  low  rate  of  exchange 
allh-  is  subject  to  the  common  acci- 
dents of  commerce.  It  seems,  however, 
to  have  been  a  theory  of  superficial  rea- 
eoners  on  public  wealth,  that  it  depended 


on  the  exchanges  far  more  than  is  really 
the,  case  ;  and,  in  the  second  part  of  this 
treatise,  Serra  opposes  a  particular  writer, 
named  De  Santis,  who  had  accounted  in 
this  way  alone  for  abundance  of  money  in 
a  state.  Serra  thinks  that  to  reduce  the 
weight  of  coin  may  sometimes  be  an  al- 
lowable expedient,  and  better  than  to  raise 
its  denomination.  The  difference  seems 
not  very  important.  The  coin  of  Naples 
was  exhausted  by  the  revenues  of  absentee 
proprietors,  which  some  had  proposed  to 
withhold;  a  measure"  to  which  Serra  just- 
ly objects.  This  book  has  been  reprinted 
at  Milan  in  the  collection  of  the  Italian 
(Economists,  and,  as  it  anticipates  the 
principles  of  what  has  been  called  the 
mercantile  theory,  deserves  some  atten- 
tion in  following  the  progress  of  opinion. 
The  once  celebrated  treatise  of  Mun,  Eng- 
land's Treasure  by  foreign  Trade,  is  sup- 
posed to  have  been  written  before  1640  ; 
but,  as  it  was  not  published  till  after  the 
Restoration,  we  may  postpone  it  to  the 
next  period. 

56.  Last  in  time  among  political  phi- 
losophers before  the  middle  of  the  Hobbes. 
century  we  find  the  greatest  and  HIS  poiiti- 
most  famous,  Thomas   Hobbes.  calworks- 
His  treatise  De  Cive  was  printed  in  1642 
for  his  private  friends.     It  obtained,  how- 
ever, a  considerable  circulation,  and  exci- 
ted some  animadversion.    In  1647  he  pub- 
lished it  at  Amsterdam,  with  notes  to  vin- 
dicate and  explain  what  had  been  cen- 
sured.    In  1650  an  English  treatise,  with 
the  Latin  title  De  Corpore  Politico,  ap- 
peared ;  and  in  1651  the  complete  system 
of  his  philosophy  was  given  to  the  world 
in   the   Leviathan.      These  three   works 
bear  somewhat  the  same  relation  to  one 
another  as  the  Advancement  of  Learning 
does  to  the  treatise  de  Augmentis  Scien- 
tiarum  ;  they  are,  in  effect,  the  same  ;  the 
same  order  of  subjects,  the  same  argu- 
ments,   and,  in  most  places,  either  the 
same  words,  or  such  variances  as  occur- 
red to  the  second  thoughts  of  the  writer  ; 
but  much  is  more  copiously  illustrated  and 
more  clearly  put  in  the  latter  than  in  the 
former  ;  while  much  also,  from  whatever 
cause,  is  withdrawn  or  considerably  mod- 
ified.     Whether  the  Leviathan  is  to  be 
reckoned  so  exclusively  his  last  thoughts 
that  we  should  presume  him  to  have  re- 
tracted the  passages  that  do  not  apnear  in 
it,  is  what  every  one  must  determine  for 
himself.     I  shall  endeavour  to  present  a 
comparative  analysis  of  the  three  treati- 
ses, with  some  preference  to  the  last. 

57.  Those,  he  begins  by  observing,  who 
have  hitherto  written  upon  civil  polity 
have  assumed  that  man  is  an  animal  fra- 


136 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


Analysis  of  nied  for  society;  as  if  nothing 
his  three  else  were  required  for  the  insti 
treatises.  tution  of  commonwealths  than 
that  men  should  agree  upon  some  terms  o 
compact  which  they  call  laws.  But  thi: 
is  entirely  false.  That  men  do  naturally 
seek  each  other's  society  he  admits  in 
note  on  the  published  edition  of  De  Give 
but  political  societies  are  not  mere  meet- 
ings of  men,  but  unions  founded  on  the 
faith  of  covenants.  Nor  does  the  desire 
of  men  for  society  imply  that  they  are  fit 
for  it.  Many  may  desire  it  who  will  not 
readily  submit  to  its  necessary  condi- 
tions.* This  he  left  out  in  the  two  other 
treatises,  thinking  it,  perhaps,  too  great  a 
concession  to  admit  any  desire  of  society 
in  man. 

58.  Nature  has  made  little  odds  among 
men  of  mature   age    as   to   strength  'or 
knowledge.     No  reason,  therefore,  can  be 
given  why  one  should,  by  any  intrinsic 
superiority,  command  others,  or  possess 
more  than  they.     But  there  is  a  great  dif- 
ference in  their  passions  ;  some  through 
vainglory  seeking  pre-eminence  over  their 
fellows,  some  willing  to  allow  equality, 
but  not  to  lose  what  they  know  to  be  good 
for  themselves.    And  this  contest  can  only 
be  decided  by  battle,  showing  which  is  the 
stronger. 

59.  All  men  desire  to  obtain  good  and 
to   avoid  evil,  especially  death.     Hence 
they  have  a  natural  right  to  preserve  their 
own  lives  and  limbs,  and  to  use  all  means 
necessary  for  this   end.     Every  man  is 
judge  for  himself  of  the  necessity  of  the 
means  and  the  greatness  of  the  danger. 
And  hence  he  has  a  right  by  nature  to  all 
things,  to  do  what  he  wills  to  others,  to 
possess  and  enjoy  all  he  can.     For  he  is 
the  only  judge  whether  they  tend  or  not 
to  his  preservation.     But  every  other  man 
has  the  same  right.     Hence  there  can  be 
no  injury  towards  another  in  a  state  of 
nature.     Not  that  in  such  a  state  a  man 
may  not  sin  agaihst  God,  or  transgress 
the  laws  of  nature. f    But  injury,  which  is 
doing  anything  without  right,  implies  hu- 
man laws  that  limit  right. 

60.  Thus  the  state  of  man  in  natural 


*  Societates  autem  c'viles  non  sunt  meri  con- 
gressus,  sed  foedera,  quibus  faciendis  fides  et  pacta 
necessaria  sunt.  .  .  .  Alia  res  est  appetere,  alia  esse 
capacem.  Appetunt  enim  illi  qui  tamen  condi- 
tiones  aquas,  sine  quibus  societas  esse  non  potest, 
accipere  per  superbiam  non  dignantur. 

t  Non  quod  in  tali  statu  peccare  in  Deum,  aut 
leges  naturales  violare  impossible  sit.  Nam  injus- 
titia  erga  homines  supponit  leges  humanas,  quales 
in  statu  natural!  nullae  sunt.— De  Give,  c.  1.  This 
he  left  out  in  the  later  treatises.  He  says  after- 
ward (sect.  28),  omne  damnum  homini  illatumlegis 
naturalis  violatio  atque  in  Deum  injuria  est. 


liberty  is  a  state  of  war,  a  war  of  every 
man  against  every  man,  wherein  the  no- 
tions of  right  and  wrong,  justice  and  in- 
justice, have  no  place.  Irresistible  might 
gives  of  itself  right,  which  is  nothing  but 
the  physical  liberty  of  using  our  power  as 
we  will  for  our  own  preservation,  and 
what  we  deem  conducive  to  it.  But  as, 
through  the  equality  of  natural  powers,  no 
man  possesses  this  irresistible  superiority, 
this  state  of  universal  war  is  contrary  to 
his  own  good,  which  he  necessarily  must 
desire.  Hence  his  reason  dictates  that  he 
should  seek  peace  as  far  as  he  can,  and 
strengthen  himself  by  all  the  helps  of  war 
against  those  with  whom  he  cannot  have 
peace.  This,  then,  is  the  first  fundament- 
al law  of  nature.  For  a  law  of  nature  is 
nothing  else  than  a  rule  or  precept  found 
out  by  reason  for  the  avoiding  what  may 
be  destructive  to  our  life. 

61.  From  this  primary  rule  another  fol- 
lows, that  a  man  should  be  willing,  when 
others  are  so  too,  as  far  forth  as  for  peace 
and  defence  of  himself  he  shall  think  it 
necessary,  to  lay  down  his  right  to  all 
things,  and  to  be  contented  with  so  much 
liberty  against  other  men  as  he  would  al- 
low to  other  men  against  himself.     This 
may  be  done  by  renouncing  his  right  to 
anything,  which  leaves  it  open  to  all,  or 
by  transferring  it   specially  to   another. 
Some  rights,  indeed,  as  those  to  his  life 
and  limbs,  are   inalienable,  and  no  man 
lays  down  the  right  of  resisting  those  who 
attack  them.     But,  in  general,  he  is  bound 
not  to  hinder  those  to  whom  he  has  grant- 
ed or  abandoned  his  own  right  from  avail- 
ing themselves  of  it ;  and  such  hinderance 
is  injustice  or  injury ;  that  is,  it  is  sinejtire, 
his  jus  being  already  gone.     Such  injury 
may  be  compared  to  absurdity  in  argu- 
ment, being  in  contradiction  to  what  he 
ias  already  done,  as  an  absurd  proposition 
s  in  contradiction  to  what  the  speaker  has 

already  allowed. 

62.  The  next  law  of  nature,  according 
o  Hobbes,  is  that  men  should  fulfil  their 
:ovenants.      What   contracts   and   cove- 
lants  are  he  explains  in  the  usual  manner. 
Mone  can1  covenant  with  God  unless  by 
special  revelation ;  therefore  vows  are  not 
binding,  nor  do  oaths  add  anything  to  the 
swearer's  obligation.     But  covenants  en- 
tered into  by  fear  he  holds  to  be  binding 
n  a  state  of  nature,  though  they  may  be 

annulled  by  the  law.  That  the  observ- 
mce  of  justice,  that  is,  of  our  covenants, 
s  never  against  reason,  Hobbes  labours 
o  prove;  for,  if  ever  its  violation  may 
lave  turned  out  successful,  this  being  con- 
rary  to  probable  expectation,  ought  not 
o  influence  us.  "That  which  gives  to 


FROM  1600  TO  1650. 


137 


human  actions  the  relish  of  justice  is 
certain  nobleness  or  gallantness  of  cour 
age  rarely  found ;  by  which  a  man  scorn 
to  be  beholden  for  the  contentment  of  hi 
life  to  fraud  or  breach  of  promise."*    1 
short  gleam  of  something  above  the  creep 
ing  selfishness  of  his  ordinary  morality  ! 
63.    He  then  enumerates   many  othe 
laws  of  nature,  such  as  gratitude,  com 
plaisance,  equity,  all  subordinate  to  th 
main  one  of  preserving  peace  by  the  limi 
tation  of  the  natural  right,  as  he  supposes 
to  usurp  all.     These  laws  are  immutable 
and  eternal ;  the  science  of  them  is  the 
only  true  science  of  moral  philosophy 
For  that  is  nothing  but  the  science  of  wha 
is  good  and  evil  in  the  conversation  am 
society  of  mankind.     In  a  state  of  nature 
private  appetite  is  the  measure  of  gooc 
and  evil.     But  all  men  agree  that  peace  is 
good  ;  and,  therefore,  the  means  of  peace 
which  are  the  moral  virtues  or  laws  of 
nature,  are  good  also,  and  their  contrarie 
evil.     These  laws  of  nature  are  not  prop- 
erly called  such,  but  conclusions  of  reason 
as  to  what  should  be  done  or  abstained 
from ;  they  are  but  theorems  concerning 
what  conduces  to  conservation  and  de- 
fence ;  whereas  law  is  strictly  the  word 
of  him  that  by  right  has  command  over 
others.     But,  so  far  as  these  are  enacted 
by  God  in  Scripture,  they  are  truly  laws. 
64.  These  laws  of  nature,  being  contra- 
ry to  our  natural  passions,  are  but  words 
of  no  strength  to  secure  any  one  without  a 
controlling  power.     For,  till  such  a  power 
is  erected,  every  man  will  rely  on  his  own 
force  and  skill.     Nor  will  the  conjunction 
of  a  few  men  or  families  be  sufficient  for 
security,  nor  that  of  a  great   multitude 
guided  by  their  own  particular  judgments 
and  appetites.     "  For  if  we  could  suppose 
a  great  multitude  of  men  to  consent  in  the 
observation  of  justice  and  other  laws  of 
nature,  without  a  common  power  to  keep 
them  all  in  awe,  we  might  as  well  suppose 
all  mankind  to  do  the  same,  and   then 
there  neither  would  be,  nor  need  to  be, 
any  civil  government  or  commonwealth 
at  all,  because  tl^ere  would  be  peace  with- 
out subjection."!     Hence  it  becomes  ne- 
cessary to  confer  all  their  power  on  one 
man  or  assembly  of  men,  to  bear  their 
person  or  represent  them ;  so  that  every 
one  shall  own  himself  author  of  what  shall 
be  done  by  such  representative.     It  is  a 
covenant  of  each  with  each,  that  he  will 
be  governed  in  such  a  manner  if  the  other 
will  agree  to  the  same.     This  is  the  gen- 
eration of  the  great  Leviathan  or  mortal 
God,  to  whom,  under  the  immortal  God, 


*  Leviathan,  c.  15. 
VOL.  II.— S 


t  Id.,  c.  17. 


we  owe  our  peace  and  defence.  In  him 
consists  the  essence  of  the  commonwealth, 
which  is  one  person,  of  whose  acts  a  greal 
multitude,  by  mutual  covenant,  have  made 
themselves  the  authors. 

65.  This  person  (including,  of  course, 
an  assembly  as  well  as  individual)  is  the 
sovereign,  and  possesses  sovereign  pow- 
er. And  such  power  may  spring  from 
agreement  or  from  force.  A  common- 
wealth  by  agreement  or  institution  is 
when  a  multitude  do  agree  and  covenant 
one  with  another,  that  whatever  the  major 
part  shall  agree  to  represent  them  shall  be 
the  representative  of  them  all.  After  this 
has  been  done,  the  subjects  cannot  change 
their  government  without  its  consent,  be- 
ing bound  by  mutual  covenant  to  own  its 
actions.  If  any  one  man  should  dissent, 
the  rest  would  break  their  covenant  with 
him.  But  there  is  no  covenant  with  the 
sovereign.  He  cannot  have  covenanted 
with  the  whole  multitude  as  one  party, 
because  it  has  no  collective  existence  till 
the  commonwealth  is  formed ;  nor  with 
each  man  separately,  because  the  acts  of 
the  sovereign  are  no  longer  his  sole  acts, 
but  those  of  the  society,  including  him 
who  would  complain  of  the  breach.  Nor 
can  the  sovereign  act  unjustly  towards  a 
subject ;  for  he  who  acts  by  another's  au- 
thority cannot  be  guilty  of  injustice  to- 
wards him  ;  he  may,  it  is  true,  commit  ini- 
quity, that  is,  violate  the  laws  of  God  and 
nature,  but  not  injury. 

66.  The  sovereign  is  necessarily  judge 
of  all  proper  means  of  defence,  of  what 
doctrines  shall  be  taught,  of  all  disputes 
and  complaints,  of  rewards  and  punish- 
ments, of  war  and  peace  with  neighbour- 

ng  commonwealths,  and  even  of  what 
shall  be  held  by  each  subject  in  property. 
Property,  he  Admits  in  one  place,  existed 

n  families  before  the  institution  of  civil 
society ;  but  between  different  families 
.here  was  no  meum  and  tuum.  These  are 
jy  the  law  and  command  of  the  sover- 

ign ;  and  hence,  though  every  subject 
may  have  a  right  of  property  against  his 
"ellow,  he  can  have  none  against  the  sov- 
3reign.  These  rights  are  incommunica- 
ble, and  inseparable  from  the  sovereign 
xnver ;  there  are  others  of  minor  impor- 
ance  which  he  may  alienate  ;  but  if  any 
one  of  the  former  is  taken  away  from  him, 
ceases  to  be  truly  sovereign. 

67.  The  sovereign  power  cannot  be  lim- 
ted  nor  divided.     Hence  there  can  be  but 
hree   simple   forms  of  commonwealth  ; 

monarchy,  aristocracy,  and  democracy. 
The  first  he  greatly  prefers.  The  king 
las  no  private  interest  apart  from  the  peo- 
le,  whose  wealth,  honour,  security  from 


138 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


enemies,  internal  tranquillity,  are  evident- 
ly for  his  own  good.  But  in  the  other 
forms  each  man  may  have  a  private  ad- 
vantage to  seek.  In  popular  assemblies 
there  is  always  an  aristocracy  of  orators, 
interrupted  sometimes  by  the  temporary 
monarchy  of  one  orator.  And  though  a 
king  may  deprive  a  man  of  all  he  possess- 
es to  enrich  a  flatterer  or  favourite,  so 
may  also  a  democratic  assembly,  where 
there  may  be  as  many  Neros  as  orators, 
each-  with  the  whole  power  of  the  people 
he  governs.  And  these  orators  are  usu- 
ally more  powerful  to  hurt  others  than  to 
save  them.  A  king  may  receive  counsel 
of  whom  he  will,  an  assembly  from  those 
only  who  have  a  right  to  belong  to  it ;  nor 
can  their  counsel  be  secret.  They  are 
also  more  inconstant  both  from  passion 
and  from  their  numbers  ;  the  absence  of  a 
few  often  undoing  all  that  had  been  done 
before.  A  king  cannot  disagree  with  him- 
self, but  an  assembly  may  do  so,  even  to 
producing  civil  war. 

68.  An  elective  or  limited  king  is  not 
the  sovereign,  but  the  sovereign's  minis- 
ter ;  nor  can  there  be  a  perfect  form  of 
government  where  the  present  ruler  has 
not  power  to  dispose  of  the  succession. 
His  power,  therefore,  is  wholly  without 
bounds,  and  correlative  must  be  the  peo- 
ple's obligation  to  obey.     Unquestionably 
there  are  risks  of  mischiefs  and  inconve- 
niences attending  a  monarchy  ;  but  these 
are  less  than  in  the  other  forms ;  and  the 
worst  of  them  is  not  comparable  to  those 
of  civil  war,  or  the  anarchy  of  a  state  of 
nature,  to  which  the  dissolution  of  the 
commonwealth  would  reduce  us. 

69.  In  the  exercise  of  government,  the 
sovereign  is  to  be  guided  by  one  maxim, 
which  contains  all  his  duty  :  Salus  populi 
suprema  lex.     And  in  this  is  to  be  reck- 
oned not  only  the  conservation  of  life,  but 
all  that  renders  it  happy.     For  this  is  the 
end  for  which  men  entered  into  civil  soci- 
ety, that  they  might  enjoy  as  much  hap- 
piness  as  human  nature  can  attain.     It 
would  be,  therefore,  a  violation  of  the  law 
of  nature,   and  of  the  trust  reposed  in 
them,  if  sovereigns  did  not  study,  as  far 
as  by  their  power  it  may  be,  that  their 
subjects  should  be  furnished  with  every- 
thing necessary,  not  for  life  alone,  but  for 
the  delights  of  life.    And  even  those  who 
have  acquired  empire  by  conquest  must 
desire  to  have  men  fit  to  serve  them,  and 
should,   in  consistency  with  their  own 
aims,  endeavour  to  provide  what  will  in- 
crease their  strength  and  courage.     Tax- 
es, in  the  opinion  of  Hobbes,  should  be 
laid  equally,  and  rather  on  expenditure 
than  on  revenue ;  the  prince  should  pro- 


mote agriculture,  fisheries,  and  commerce, 
and,  in  general,  whatever  makes  men  hap- 
py and  prosperous.  Many  just  reflections 
on  the  art  of  government  are  uttered  by 
Hobbes,  especially  as  to  the  inexpediency 
of  interfering  too  much  with  personal  lib- 
erty. No  man,  he  observes  in  another 
place,  is  so  far  free  as  to  be  exempted 
from  the  sovereign  power ;  but  if  liberty 
consists  in  the  paucity  of  restraining  laws, 
he  sees  not  why  this  may  riot  be  had  in 
monarchy  as  well  as  in  a  popular  govern- 
ment. The  dream  of  so  many  political 
writers,  a  wise  and  just  despotism,  is  pic- 
tured by  Hobbes  as  the  perfection  of  po- 
litical society. 

70.  But,  most  of  all,  is  the  sovereign  to 
be  without  limit  by  the  power  of  the  priest- 
hood.    This  is  chiefly  to  be  dreaded,  that 
he  should  command  anything  under  the 
penalty  of  death,  and  the  clergy  forbid  it 
under  the   penalty   of  damnation.     The 
pretensions  of  the  See  of  Rome,  of  some 
bishops  at  home,  and  those  of  even  the 
lowest  citizens,  to  judge  for  themselves 
and  determine  upon  public  religion,  are 
dangerous  to  the  state,  and  the  frequent 
cause  of  wars.     The  sovereign,  therefore, 
is  alone  to  judge  whether  religions  are 
safely  to  be  admitted  or  not.     And  it  may 
be  urged,  that  princes  are  bound  to  cause 
such  doctrine  as  they  think  conducive  to 
their  subjects'  salvation  to  be  taught,  for- 
bidding every  other,  and  that  they  cannot 
do  otherwise  in  conscience.     This,  how- 
ever, he  does  not  absolutely  determine. 
But  he  is  clearly  of  opinion  that,  though  it 
is  not  the  case  where  the  prince  is  infidel,* 
the  head  of  the  state,  in  a  Christian  com- 
monwealth, is  head  also  of  the  Church ; 
that  he,  rather  than  any  ecclesiastics,  is 
the  judge  of  doctrines ;  that  a  church  is 
the  same  as  a  commonwealth  under  the 
same  sovereign,  the  component  members 
of  each  being  precisely  the  same.     This 
is  not  very  far  removed  from  the  doctrine 
of  Hooker,  and  still  less  from  the  practice 
of  Henry  VIII. 

71.  The  second  class  of  commonwealths, 
those  by  forcible  acquisition,  differ  more  in 
origin  than  in  their  subsequent  character 
from  such  as  he  has  been  discussing.   The 
rights  of  sovereignty  are  the  same  in  both. 
Dominion  is  acquired  by  generation  or  by 
conquest :  the  one  parental,  the  other  des- 
potical.    Parental  power,  however,  he  de- 
rives not  so  much  from  having  given  birth 


*  Imperantibus  autem  non  Christianis  in  tempo- 
ralibus  quidem  omnibus  eandem  d^beri  obedienti- 
am  etiarn  a  cive  Christiano  extra  controversial!! 
est :  in  spiritualibus  vero,  hoc  est,  in  iis  quas  perti- 
nent ad  modum  colendi  Dei  sequenda  est  ecclesia 
aliqua  Christianorum.— De  Cive,  c.  18,  §  3. 


FROM  1600  TO  1C50. 


139 


to,  as  from  having  preserved  ttie  child, 
and,  with  originality  and  acuteness,  thinks 
it  belongs  by  nature  to  the  mother  rather 
than  to  the  father,  except  where  there  is 
some  contract  between  the  parties  to  the 
contrary.  The  act  of  maintenance  and 
nourishment  conveys,  as  he  supposes,  an 
unlimited  power  over  the  child,  extending 
to  life  and  death,  and  there  can  be  no  state 
of  nature  between  parent  and  child.  In 
his  notion  of  patriarchal  authority  he 
seems  to  go  as  far  as  Filmer ;  but,  more 
acute  than  Filmer,  perceives  that  it  affords 
no  firm  basis  for  political  society.  By 
conquest  and  sparing  the  lives  of  the  van- 
quished they  become  slaves;  and,  so  long 
as  they  are  held  in  bodily  confinement, 
there  is  no  covenant  between  them  and 
their  master;  but,  in  claiming  corporeal 
liberty,  they  expressly  or  tacitly  covenant 
to  obey  him  as  their  lord  and  sovereign. 

72.  The  political  philosophy  of  Hobbes 
had  much  to  fix  the  attention  of  the  world 
and  to  create  a  sect  of  admiring  partisans. 
The  circumstances  of  the  time,  and  the 
character  of  the  passing  generation,  no 
doubt  powerfully  conspired  with  its  intrin- 
sic qualities ;  but  a  system  so  original,  so 
intrepid,  so  disdainful  of  any  appeal  but  to 
the  common  reason  and  common  interests 
of  mankind,  so  unaffectedly  and  perspicu- 
ously proposed,  could  at  no  time  have 
failed   of  success.     From  the  two  rival 
theories,  on  the  one  hand  that  of  original 
compact  between  the  prince  and  people, 
derived  from  antiquity,  and  sanctioned  by 
the  authority  of  fathers  and  schoolmen ; 
on  the  other,  that  of  an  absolute  patri- 
archal transmuted  into  an  absolute  regal 
power,  which  had  become  prevalent  among 
part  of  the  English  clergy,  Hobbes  took  as 
much  as  might  conciliate  a  hearing  from 
both,  an  original  covenant  of  the  multi- 
tude, and  an   unlimited  authority  of  the 
sovereign.     But  he  had  a  substantial  ad- 
vantage over  both  these  parties,  and  es- 
pecially the  latter,  in  establishing  the  hap- 

•  piness  of  the  community  as  the  sole  final 
cause  of  government,  both  in  its  institu- 
tion and  its  continuance  ;  the  great  funda- 
mental theorem  upon  which  all  political 
science  depends,  but  sometimes  obscured 
or  lost  in  the  pedantry  of  theoretical  wri- 
ters. 

73.  In  the  positive  system  of  Hobbes 
we  find  less  cause  for  praise.     We  fall  in 
at  the  very  outset  with  a  strange  and  in- 
defensible paradox ;  the  natural  equality 
of  human  capacities,  which  he  seems  to 
have  adopted  rather  in  opposition  to  Aris- 
totle's notion  of  a  natural  right  in  some 
men  to  govern,  founded  on  their  superior 
qualities,  than  because  it  was  at  all  requi- 


site for  his  own  theory.  By  extending 
this  alleged  equality,  or  slightness  of  dif- 
ference, among  men  to  physical  strength, 
he  has  more  evidently  shown  its  incom- 
patibility with  experience.  If  superiority 
in  mere  strength  has  not  often  been  the 
source  of  political  power,  it  is  for  two  rea- 
sons :  first,  because,  though  there  is  a  vast 
interval  between  the  strongest  man  and 
the  weakest,  there  is  generally  not  much 
between  the  former  and  him  who  comes 
next  in  vigour ;  and,  secondly,  because 
physical  strength  is  multiplied  by  the  ag- 
gregation of  individuals,  so  that  the  strong- 
er few  may  be  overpowered  by  the  weak- 
er many  ;  while  in  mental  capacity,  com- 
prehending acquired  skill  and  habit  as 
well  as  natural  genius  and  disposition, 
both  the  degrees  of  excellence  are  remo- 
ved by  a  wider  distance,  and,  what  is  still 
more  important,  the  aggregation  of  indi- 
vidual powers  does  not  regularly  and  cer- 
tainly augment  the  value  of  the  whole. 
That  the  real  or  acknowledged  superiority 
of  one  man  to  his  fellows  has  been  the  or- 
dinary source  of  power,  is  sufficiently  evi- 
dent from  what  we  daily  see  among  chil- 
dren, and  must,  it  should  seem,  be  admit- 
ted by  all  who  derive  civil  authority  from 
choice,  or  even  from  conquest ;  and,  there- 
fore, is  to  be  inferred  from  the  very  sys- 
tem of  Hobbes. 

74.  That  a  state  of  nature  is  a  state  of 
war ;  that  men,  or,  at  least,  a  very  large 
proportion  of  men,  employ  force  of  every 
kind  in  seizing  to  themselves  what  is  in 
the  possession  of  others,  is  a  proposition 
for  which  Hobbes  incurred  as  much  oblo- 
quy as  for  any  one  in  his  writings  ;  yet  it 
is  one  not  easy  to  controvert.  But,  soon 
after  the  publication  of  the  Leviathan,  a 
dislike  of  the  Calvinistic  scheme  of  uni- 
versal depravity,  as  well  as  of  his  own,  led 
many  considerable  men  into  the  opposite 
extreme  of  elevating  too  much  the  dignity 
of  human  nature,  if  by  that  term  they 
meant,  and  in  no  other  sense  could  it  be 
applicable  to  this  question,  the  real  prac- 
tical character  of  the  majority  of  the  spe- 
cies. Certainly  the  sociableness  of  man 
is  as  much  a  part  of  his  nature  as  his  self- 
ishness ;  but  whether  this  propensity  to 
society  would  necessarily  or  naturally 
have  led  to  the  institution  of  political 
communities,  may  not  be  very  clear; 
while  we  have  proof  enough  in  historical 
traditions,  and  in  what  we  observe  of  sav- 
age nations,  that  mutual  defence  by  mutu- 
al concession,  the  common  agreement  not 
to  attack  the  possessions  of  each  other, 
or  to  permit  strangers  to  do  so,  has  been 
the  true  basis,  the  final  aim  of  those  insti- 
tutions, be  they  more  or  less  complex,  t<* 


140 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


•which  we  give  the  appellation  of  common- 
wealths. 

75.  In  developing,  therefore,  the  origin 
of  civil  society,  Hobbes,  though  not  essen- 
tially differing  from  his  predecessors,  has 
placed  the  truth  in  a  fuller  light.     It  does 
not  seem  equally  clear  that  his  own  the- 
ory of  a  mutual  covenant  between  the 
members  of  a  unanimous  multitude  to  be- 
come one  people,  and  to  be  represented,  in 
all  lime  to  come,  by  such  a  sovereign  gov- 
ernment as  the  majority  should  determine, 
affords  a  satisfactory  groundwork  for  the 
rights  of  political  society.     It  is,  in  the 
first  place,   too   hypothetical   as   a  fact. 
That  such  an  agreement  may  have  been 
sometimes  made  by  independent  families, 
in  the  first  coming  together  of  communi- 
ties, it  would  be  presumptuous  to  deny  ;  it 
carries  upon  the  face  of  it  no  improbabili- 
ty except  as  to  the  design  of  binding  pos- 
terity, which  seems  too  refined  for  such  a 
state  of  mankind  as  we  must  suppose ; 
but  it  is  surely  possible  to  account  for  the 
general  fact  of  civil  government  in  a  sim- 
pler way ;  and  what  is  most  simple,  though 
not  always  true,  is,  on  the  first  appear- 
ance, most  probable.     If  we  merely  sup- 
pose an  agreement,  unanimous,  of  course, 
in  those  who  concur  in  it,  to  be  governed 
by  one  man  or  by  one  council,  promising 
that  they  shall  wield  the   force  of  the 
whole  against  any  one  who  shall  contra- 
vene their  commands  issued  for  the  pub- 
lic good,  the  foundation  is  as  well  laid, 
and  the  commonwealth  as  firmly  estab- 
lished, as  by  the  double  process  of  a  mu- 
tual covenant  to  constitute  a  people,  and  a 
popular  determination  to  constitute  a  gov- 
ernment.    It  is  true  that  Hobbes  distin- 
guishes a  commonwealth  by  institution, 
which  he  supposes  to  be  founded  on  this 
unanimous  consent,  from  one  by  acquisi- 
tion, for  which  force  alone  is  required. 
But  as  the  force  of  one  man  gpes  but  a 
little  way  towards  compelling  the  obe- 
dience of  others,  so  as  to  gain  the  name 
of  sovereign  power,  unless  it  is  aided  by 
the  force  of  many  who  voluntarily  con- 
spire to  its  ends,  this  sort  of  common- 
wealth by  conquest  will  be  found  to  in- 
volve the  previous  institution  of  the  more 
peaceable  kind. 

76.  This  theory  of  a  mutual  covenant 
is  defective  also  in  a  most  essential  point. 
It  furnishes  no   adequate  basis  for  any 
commonwealth  beyond  the  lives  of  those 
who  established  it.     The  right,  indeed,  of 
men  to  bind  their  children,  and,  through 
them,  a  late  posterity,  is  sometimes  as- 
serted by  Hobbes,  but  in  a  very  transient 
manner,  and  as  if  he  was  aware  of  the 
weakness  of  his  ground.     It  might  be  in- 


quired Whether  the  force  on  which  alone 
he  rests  the  obligation  of  children  to  obey 
can  give  any  right  beyond  its  own  contin- 
uance ;  whether  the  absurdity  he  imputes 
to  those  who  do  not  stand  by  their  en- 
gagements is  imputable  to  such  as  disre- 
gard the  covenants  of  their  forefathers ; 
whether,  in  short,  any  law  of  nature  re- 
quires our  obedience  to  a  government  we 
deem  hurtful,  because,  in  a  distant  age,  a 
multitude  whom  we  cannot  trace  bestow- 
ed unlimited  power  on  some  unknown 
persons  from  whom  that  government  pre- 
tends to  derive  its  succession. 

77.  A  better  ground  for  the  subsisting 
rights  of  his  Leviathan  is  sometimes  sug 
gested,  though  faintly,  by  Hobbes  himself. 
"  If  one  refuse  to  stand  to  what  the  major 
part  shall  ordain,  or  make   protestation 
against  any  of  their  decrees,  he  does  con- 
trary to  his  covenant,  and  therefore  un- 
justly ;  and  whether  he  be  of  the  congre- 
gation or  not,  whether  his  consent   be 
asked  or  not,  he  must  either  submit  to 
their  decrees,  or  be  left  in  the  condition 
of  war  he  was   in  before,  wherein    he 
might,  without  injustice,  be  destroyed  by 
any  man  whatsoever."*      This   renewal 
of  the  state  of  war,  which  is  the  state  of 
nature ;  this  denial  of  the  possibility  of 
doing  an  injury  to  any  one  who  does  not 
obey  the  laws  of  the  commonwealth,  is 
enough  to  silence  the  question  why  we 
are  obliged  still  to  obey.    The  established 
government  and   those  who  maintain  it 
being  strong  enough  to  wage  war  against 
gainsayers,  give  them  the  option  of  incur- 
ring the  consequences  of  such  warfare  or 
of  complying  with  the  laws.    But  it  seems 
a  corollary  from  this,  that  the  stronger 
part  of  a  commonwealth,  which  may  not 
always  be  the  majority,  have  not  only  a 
right  to  despise  the  wishes,  but  the  inter- 
ests of  dissentients.     Thus  the  more  we 
scrutinize   the   theories   of    Hobbes,  the 
more  there  appears  a  deficiency  of  that 
which  only  a  higher  tone  of  moral  senti- 
ment can  give,  a  security  against  the  ap- 
petites of  others,  and   for  them  against 
our  own.     But  it  may  be  remarked,  that 
his  supposition  of  a  state  of  war,  not.  as  a 
permanent  state  of  nature,  but  as  just  self- 
defence,  is  perhaps  the  best  footing  on 
which  we  can  place  the  right  to  inflict  se- 
vere, and  especially  capital,  punishment 
upon  offenders  against  the  law. 

78.  The  positions  so  dogmatically  laid 
down  as  to  the  impossibility  of  mixing 
different  sorts  of  government  were,  even 
in  the  days  of  Hobbes,  contradicted  by 
experience.     Several  republics  had  lasted 


*  Lev.,  c.  18. 


FROM  1600  TO  1650. 


141 


for  ages  under  a  mixed  aristocracy  and 
democracy ;  and  there  had  surely  been 
sufficient  evidence  that  a  limited  mon- 
archy might  exist,  though,  in  the  revolu- 
tion of  ages,  it  might,  one  way  or  other, 
pass  into  some  new  type  of  polity.  And 
these  prejudices  in  favour  of  absolute 
power  are  rendered  more  dangerous  by 
paradoxes  unusual  from  an  Englishman, 
even  in  those  days  of  high  prerogative 
when  Hobbes  began  to  write,  that  the 
subject  has  no  property  relatively  to  the 
sovereign,  and,  what  is  the  fundamental 
error  of  his  whole  system,  that  nothing 
done  by  the  prince  can  be  injurious  to 
any  one  else.  This  is  accompanied  by 
the  other  portents  of  Hobbism,  scattered 
through  these  treatises,  especially  the 
Leviathan,  that  the  distinctions  of  right 
and  wrong,  moral  good  and  evil,  are  made 
by  the  laws ;  that  no  man  can  do  amiss 
who  obeys  the  sovereign  authority ;  that, 
though  private  belief  is,  of  necessity,  be- 
yond the  prince's  control,  it  is  according 
to  his  will,  and  in  no  other  way,  that  we 
must  worship  God. 

79.  The  political  system  of  Hobbes, 
like  his  moral  system,  of  which,  in  fact,  it 
is  only  a  portion,  sears  up  the  heart.  It 
takes  away  the  sense  of  wrong,  that  has 
Consoled  the  wise  and  good  in  their  dan- 
gers ;  the  proud  appeal  of  innocence  under 
oppression,  like  that  of  Prometheus  to  the 
elements,  uttered  to  the  witnessing  world, 
to  coming  ages,  to  the  just  ear  of  Heaven. 
It  confounds  the  principles  of  moral  ap- 
probation, the  notions  of  good  and  ill  de- 
sert, in  a  servile  idolatry  of  the  monstrous 
Leviathan  it  creates  ;  and,  after  sacrificing 
all  right  at  the  altar  of  power,  denies  to 
the  Omnipotent  the  prerogative  of  dicta- 
ting the  laws  of  his  own  worship. 


SECTION  III. 

Roman  Jurisprudence.  —  Grotius  on  the  Laws  of 
War  and  Peace.— Analysis  of  this  Work. — De- 
fence of  it  against  some  Strictures. 

80.  IN  the  Roman  jurisprudence  we  do 
civil  jurists  not  find  such  a  cluster  of  emi- 
of  this  period  nent  men  during  this  period  as 
in  the  sixteenth  century  ;  and  it  would,  of 
course,  be  out  of  our  province  to  search 
for  names  little  how  remembered,  perhaps, 
even  in  forensic  practice.  Many  of  the 
writings  of  Fabre  of  Savoy,  who  has  been 
mentioned  in  the  former  volume,  belong  to 
the  first  years  of  this  century.  Farinacci 
or  Farinaceus,  a  lawyer  of  Rome,  obtain- 
ed a  celebrity  which,  after  a  long  dura- 
tion, has  given  way  in  the  progress  of  le- 


gal studies,  less  directed  than  formerly 
towards  a  superfluous  erudition.*  But 
the  work  of  Menochius  de  praesumptioni- 
bus,  or,  as  we  should  say,  on  the  rules  of 
evidence,  is  said  to  have  lost  none  of  its 
usefulness,  even  since  the  decline  of  the 
civil  law  in  France. f  No  book,  perhaps, 
belonging  to  this  period  is  so  generally 
known  as  the  commentaries  of  Vinnius 
on  the  Institutes,  which,  as  far  as  I  know, 
has  not  been  superseded  by  any  of  later 
date.  Conringius  of  Helmstadt  may  be 
reckoned,  in  some  measure,  among  the 
writers  on  jurisprudence,  though  chiefly 
in  the  line  of  historical  illustration.  The 
Elementa  Juris  Civilis,  by  Zouch,  is  a 
mere  epitome,  but  neatly  executed,  of  the 
principal  heads  of  the  Roman  law,  and 
nearly  in  its  own  words.  Arthur  Duck, 
another  Englishman,  has  been  praised, 
even  by  foreigners,  for  a  succinct  and 
learned,  though  elementary  and  popular, 
treatise  on  the  use  and  authority  of  the 
civil  law  in  different  countries  of  Europe. 
This  little  book  is  not  disagreeably  writ- 
ten ;  but  it  is  not,  of  course,  from  England 
that  much  could  be  contributed  towards 
Roman  jurisprudence. 

81.  The  larger  principles  of  jurispru- 
dence, which  link  that  science  with  s-mezon 
general  morals,  and  especially  such  iaws- 

as  relate  to  the  intercourse  of  nations, 
were  not  left  untouched  in  the  great  work 
of  Suarez  on  laws.  I  have  not,  however, 
made  myself  particularly  acquainted  with 
this  portion  of  his  large  volume.  Spain 
appears  to  have  been  the  country  in  which, 
these  questions  were  originally  discussed 
upon  principles  broader  than  precedent, 
as  well  as  upon  precedents  themselves ; 
and  Suarez,  from  the  general  comprehen- 
siveness of  his  views  in  legislation  and 
ethics,  is  likely  to  have  said  well  whatev- 
er he  may  have  said  on  the  subject  of  in- 
ternational law.  It  does  not  appear,  how- 
ever, that  he  is  much  quoted  by  later  wri- 
ters. 

82.  The  name  of  Suarez  is  obscure  in 
comparison  of   one   who   soon  orotiux,  Pe 
came  forward  in  the  great  field  JureBeiiiet 
of  natural  jurisprudence.     This  Pacis> 
was  Hugo  Grotius,  whose  famous  work, 
De  Jure  Belli  et  Pacis,  was  published  at 
Paris  in  1625.    It  may  be  reckoned  a  proof 
of  the  extraordinary  diligence,  as  well  as 
quickness  of  parts  which  distinguishes  this 
writer,  that  it  had  occupied  a  very  short 
part  of  his  life.     He  first  mentions,  in  a 
letter  to  the  younger  Thuanus  in  August, 
1623,  that  he  was  employed  in  examining 
the  principal  questions  which  belong  to 


*  Biogr.  Univ. 


142 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


the  law  of  nations.*  In  the  same  year  he 
recommends  the  study  of  that  law  to  an- 
other of  his  correspondents  in  such  terms 
as  bespeak  his  own  attention  to  it.f  Ac- 
cording to  one  of  his  letters  to  Gassendi, 
quoted  by  Stewart,  the  scheme  was  sug- 
gested to  him  by  Peiresc. 

83.  It  is  acknowledged  by  every  one 
Successor  that  the  publication  of  this  trea- 
this  work,  tise  made  an  epoch  in  the  philo- 
sophical, and  almost,  we  might  say,  in  the 
political  history  of  Europe.  Those  who 
sought  a  guide  to  their  own  conscience  or 
that  of  others  ;  those  who  dispensed  jus- 
tice ;  those  who  appealed  to  the  public 
sense  of  right  in  the  intercourse  of  na- 
tions, had  recourse  to  its  copious  pages 
for  what  might  direct  or  justify  their  ac- 
tions. Within  thirty  or  forty  years  from 
its  publication,  we  find  the  work  of  Gro- 
tius  generally  received  as  authority  by 
professors  of  the  Continental  universities, 
and  deemed  necessary  for  the  student  of 
civil  law,  at  least  in  the  Protestant  coun- 
tries of  Europe.  In  England,  from  the 
difference  of  laws,  and  from  some  other 
causes  which  might  be  assigned,  the  in- 
fluence of  Grotius  was  far  slower,  and 
even,  ultimately,  mucft  less  general.  He 
was,  however,  treated  with  great  respect 
as  the  founder  of  the  modern  law  of  na- 
tions, which  is  distinguished  from  what 
formerly  bore  that  name  by  its  more  con- 
tinual reference  to  that  of  nature.  But 
when  a  book  is  little  read  it  is  easily  mis- 
represented ;  and,  as  a  new  school  of  phi- 
losophers rose  up,  averse  to  much  of  the 
principles  of  their  predecessors,  but,  above 


*  Versor  in  examinandis  controversiis  prascipuis 
quse  ad  jus  gentium  pertinent.— Epist.  75.  This  is" 
not  from  the  folio  collection  of  his  epistles,  so  often 
quoted  in  the  second  chapter  of  this  volume,  hut 
from  one  antecedently  published  in  1648,  and  enti- 
tled Grotii  Epistolse  ad  Gallos. 

t  Hoc  spatio  exacto,  nihil  restat  quod  tibi  seque 
commendem  atque  studium  juris,  non  illius  privati, 
ex  quo  leguleii  et  rabulae  victitant,  sed  gentium  ac 
publici ;  quam  prsestabilem  scientiam  Cicero  vocans 
consistere  ait  in  fcoderibus,  pactionibus,  conditioni- 
bus  populorum,  regum,  nationum,  in  omni  deniqne 
jure  belli  et  pads.  Hujus  juris  principia  quomodo 
ex  morali  philosophia  petenda  sunt,  monstrare  po- 
terunt  Platonis  ac  Ciceronis  de  legibus  liber.  Sed 
Platpnis  summas  aliquas  legisse  suffecerit.  Neque 
posniteat  ex  scholasticis  Thomam  Aquinatem,  si 
non  perlegere,  saltern  inspicere  secunda  parte  se- 
cundaj  partis  libri,  quern  Summam  Theologian  in- 
scripsit ;  praesertim  ubi  de  justitia  agit  ac  de  legi- 
bus. ITsum  propius  monstrabunt  Pandectse,  libro 
prime  atque  ultimo ;  et  codex  Justinianeus,  libro 
primo  et  tnbus  postremis.  Nostri  temporis  juris 
consult!  pauci  juris  gentium  ac  publici  controversias 
attigere,  eoque  magis  eminent,  qui  id  fecere,  Vas- 
quius,  Hpttomannus,  Gentilis.— Epist.  xvi.  This 
passage  is  useful  in  showing  the  views  Grotius 
himself  entertained  as  to  the  subject  and  trround- 
work  of  his  treatise.1 


all  things,  to  their  tediousness,  it  became 
the  fashion,  not  so  much  to  dispute,  the 
tenets  of  Grotius,  as  to  set  aside  his  whole 
work  among  the  barbarous  and  obsolete 
schemes  of  ignorant  ages.  For  this  pur- 
pose various  charges  have  been  alleged 
against  it  by  men  of  deserved  eminence, 
not,  in  my  opinion,  very  candidly,  or  with 
much  real  knowledge  of  its  contents. 
They  have  had,  however,  the  natural  ef- 
fect of  creating  a  prejudice,  which,  from 
the  sort  of  oblivion  fallen  upon  the  book, 
is  not  likely  to  die  away.  I  shall,  there- 
fore, not  think  myself  performing  a  useless 
task  in  giving  an  analysis  of  the  treatise 
De  Jure  Belli  et  Pacis ;  so  that  the  reader, 
having  seen  for  himself  what  it  is,  may 
not  stand  in  need  of  any  arguments  or  tes- 
timony to  refute  those  who  have  repre- 
sented it  as  it  is  not. 

84.  The  book  may  be   considered  as 
nearly  original,  in  its  general  plat-  nsorigi- 
form,  as  any  work  of  man  in  an  naiity. 
advanced  stage  of  civilization  and  learning 
can  be.    It  is  more  so,  perhaps,  than  those 
of  Montesquieu  and  Smith.     No  one  had 
before  gone  to  the  foundations  of  inter- 
national law  so  as  to  raise  a  complete  and 
consistent  superstructure;  few  had  han- 
dled even  separate  parts,  or  laid  down  any 
satisfactory  rules  concerning  it.     Grotius 
enumerates  a  few  preceding  writers,  es- 
pecially Ayala  and  Albericus  Gentilis,  but 
does  not  mention  Soto  in  this  place.    Gen- 
tilis, he  says,  is  wont,  in  determining  con- 
troverted questions,  to  follow  either  a  few 
precedents  not  always  of  the  best  descrip- 
tion, or  even  the  authority  of  modern  law- 
yers in  their  answers  to  cases,  many  of 
which  are  written  with  more  regard  to 
what  the  consulting  parties  desire,  than  to 
what  real  justice  and  equity  demand. 

85.  The  motive  assigned  for  this  under- 
taking is  the  noblest.     "  I  saw,"  its  motive 
he  says,  "  in  the  whole  Christian  and  object. 
world  a  license  of  fighting,  at  which  even 
barbarians  might  blush;    wars  begun  on 
trifling  pretexts,  or  none  at  all,  and  carried 
on  without  reverence  for  any  divine  or 
human  law,  as  if  that  one  declaration  of 
war  let  loose  every  crime."     The  sight 
of  such  a  monstrous  state  of  things  had 
induced  some,  like  Erasmus,  to  deny  the 
lawfulness   of  any  war  to   a  Christian. 
But  this  extreme,  as  he  justly  observes, 
is  rather  pernicious  than  otherwise ;  for 
when  a  tenet  so  paradoxical  and  impracti- 
cable is  maintained,  it  begets  a  prejudice 
against  the  more  temperate  course  which 
he  prepares  to  indicate.    "  Let,  therefore," 
he  says  afterward,  "  the  laws  be  silent  in 
the  midst  of  arms ;  but  those  laws  only 
which  belong  to  peace ;  the  laws  of  civil 


FROM  1600  TO  1G50. 


143 


life  and  public  tribunals;  not  such  as  are 
eternal,  and  fitted  for  all  seasons,  unwrit- 
ten laws  of  nature,  which  subsist  in  what 
the  ancient  form  of  the  Romans  denomi- 
nated '  a  pure  and  holy  war.'  "* 

86.  "I  have  employed,  in  confirmation 
I'is  au-    of  this  natural  and  national  law, 
thoritics.  the   testimonies  of  philosophers, 
of  historians,  of  poets,  lastly,  even  of  ora- 
tors ;  not  that  we  should  indiscriminately 
rely  upon  them,  for  they  are  apt  to  say 
what  may  serve  their  party,  their  subject, 
or  their  cause  ;  but  because,  when  many 
at  different  times  and  places  affirm  the 
same  thing  for  certain,  we  may  refer  this 
unanimity  to  some  general  cause,  which, 
in  such  questions  as  these,  can  be  no  other 
than  either  a  right  deduction  from  some 
natural  principle  or  some  common  agree- 
ment.    The  former  of  these  denotes  the 
law  of  nature,  the  latter  that  of  nations ; 
the  difference  whereof  must  be  understood, 
not  by  the  language  of  these  testimonies, 
for  writers  are  very  prone  to  confound  the 
two  words,  but  from  the  nature  of  the 
subject.    For,  whatever  cannot  be  clearly 
deduced  from  true  premises,  and  yet  ap- 
pears to   have  been  generally,  admitted, 
must  have  had  its  origin  in  free  consent. 
....  The  sentences  of  poets  and  orators 
have  less  weight  than  those  of  history; 
and  we  often  make  use  of  them,  not  so 
much  to  corroborate  what  we  say,  as  to 
throw  a  kind  of  ornament  over  it."     "1 
have  abstained,"  he  adds  afterward, "  from 
all  that  belongs  to  a  different  subject,  as 
what  is  expedient  to  be  done ;  since  this 
has  its  own  science,  that  of  politics,  which 
Aristotle  has  rightly  treated  by  not  inter- 
mingling anything  extraneous  to  it,  while 
Bodin  has  confounded  that  science  with 
this  which  we  are  about  to  treat.     If  we 
sometimes   allude  to  utility,  it  is  but  in 
passing,  and  distinguishing  it  from  the 
question  of  justice.  vf 

87.  Grotius  derives  the  origin  of  natural 
Foundation  ^avv  ^rom  t^ie  sociable  character  of 
of  natural    mankind.     "  Among  things  corn- 
law.          mon  to  mankind  is  the  desire  of 
society ;  that  is,  not  of  every  kind  of  so- 
ciety, but  of  one  that  is  peaceable  and  or- 
dered according  to  the  capacities  of  his 
nature  with  others  of  his  species.     Even 
in  children,  before  all  instruction,  a  propen- 
sity to  do  good  to  others  displays  itself, 
just  as  pity  in  that  age  is  a  spontaneous 
affection."    We  perceive  by  this  -remark 
that  Grotius  looked  beyond  the  merely 
rational  basis  of  natural  law  to  the  moral 


*  Eas  res  puro  pioque  duello  repetundas  censeo. 
It  was  a  case  prodigiously  frequent  in  the  opinion 
of  the  Romans. 

t  Prolegomena  in  librum  de  Jure  Belli. 


constitution  of  human  nature.  The  con- 
servation of  such  a  sociable  life  is  the 
source  of  that  law  which  is  strictly  called 
natural ;  which  comprehends,  in  the  first 
place,  the  abstaining  from  all  that  belongs 
to  others,  and  the  restitution  of  it  if  by 
any  means  in  our  possession,  the  fulfil- 
ment of  promises,  the  reparation  of  injury, 
and  the  right  of  human  punishment.  In  a 
secondary  sense,  natural  law  extends  to 
prudence,  temperance,  and  fortitude,  as 
being  suitable  to  man's  nature.  '  And  in  a 
similar  lax  sense  we  have  that  kind  of  jus- 
tice itself  called  distributive  (dto»^ayr<«cf)J 
which  prefers  a  better  man  to  a  worse,  a 
relation  to  a  stranger,  a  poorer  man  to  a 
richer,  according  to  the  circumstances  of 
the  party  and  the  case.*  And  this  natural 
law  is  properly  defined  "the  dictate  of 
right  reason,  pointing  out  a  moral  guilt  or 
rectitude  to  be  inherent  in  any  action,  on 
account  of  its  agreement  or  disagreement 
with  our  rational  and  social  nature ;  and, 
consequently,  that  such  an  action  is  either 
forbidden  or  enjoined  by  God  the  author 
of  nature."!  It  is  so  immutable  that  God 
himself  cannot  alter  it ;  a  position  which 
he  afterward  limits  by  a  restriction  we 
have  seen  in  Suarez :  that  if  God  com- 
mand any  one  to  be  killed,  or  his  goods 
to  be  taken,  this  would  not  render  murder 
or  theft  lawful,  but,  being  commanded  by 
the  lord  of  life  and  all  things,  it  would 
cease  to  be  murder  or  theft.  This  seems 
little  better  than  a  sophism  unworthy  of 
Grotius ;  but  he  meant  to  distinguish  be- 
tween an  abrogation  of  the  law  of  nature, 
and  a  dispensation  with  it  in  a  particular 
instance.  The  original  position,  in  fact, 
is  not  stated  with  sufficient  precision  or  on 
a  right  principle. 

88.  Voluntary  or  positive  law  is  either 
human  or  revealed.  The  former  is  positive 
either  that  of  civil  communities,  i«w- 
which  are  assemblages  of  freemen,  living 
in  society  for  the  sake  of  laws  and  com- 
mon utility,  or  that  of  nations,  which  de- 
rives its  obligation  from  the  consent  of  all 
or  many  nations ;  a  law  which  is  to  be 
proved,  like  all  unwritten  law,  by  contin- 
ual usage  and  the  testimony  of  the  learned. 
The  revealed  law  he  divides  in  the  usual 
manner,  but  holds  that  no  part  of  the  Mo- 
saic, so  far  as  it  is  strictly  a  law,  is  at 
present  binding  upon  us.  But  much  of  it 
is  confirmed  by  the  Christian  Scriptures, 


*  Id.,  $  6-10. 

t  Jus  naturale  est  dictatum  rectae  rationis,  in- 
dicaws  actui  alicui,  ex  ejus  convenientia  aut  dis- 
convenientia  cum  ipsa  natura  rationali  ac  sociali, 
inesse  moralem  turpitudinem  aut  necessitatem  mo- 
ralem, ac  consequenter  ab  auctore  naturae  Deo  talein 
actu.-n  aut  vetari  aut  prsccipi—  L.  i.,  c.  1,  $  10. 


144 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


and  much  is  also  obligatory  by  the  law  of 
nature.  This  last  law  is  to  be  applied,  d 
priori,  by  the  conformity  of  the  act  in 
question  to  the  natural  and  social  nature 
of  man;  a  posteriori,  by  the  consent  of 
mankind;  the  latter  argument,  however, 
not  being  conclusive,  but  highly  probable, 
when  the  agreement  is  found  in  all,  or  in 
all  the  more  civilized  nations.* 

89.  Perfect  rights,  after  the  manner  of 
Perfect  and  lhe  jurists,  he  distinguishes  from 
imperfect    imperfect.    The  former  are  called 
rights.        sw4,  ourown;  properly  speaking, 
the  objects  of  what  they  styled  commuta- 
tive justice ;   the  latter  are  denominated 
fitnesses    (aptitudines),    such    as    equity, 
gratitude,  or  domestic  affection  prescribe, 
but  which  are  only  the  objects  of  distrib- 
utive or  equitable  justice.  This  distinction 
is  of  the  highest  importance  in  the  im- 
mediate subject  of  the  work  of  Grotius  ; 
since  it  is  agreed  on  all  hands  that  no  law 
gives  a  remedy  for  the  denial  of  these, 
nor  can  we  justly,  in  a  state  of  nature, 
have  recourse  to  arms  in  order  to  enforce 
them.f 

90.  War,  however,  as  he  now  proceeds 
Lawful  to  show*  is  not  absolutely  unlawful, 
cases  of  either  by  the  law  of  nature,  or  that 
Wiir>      of  nations,  or  of  revelation.     The 
proof  is,  as  usual  with  Grotius,  very  dif- 
fuse ;  his  work  being,  in  fact,  a  magazine 
of  arguments  and  examples  with  rather  a 
supererogatory  profusion. J    But  the  Ana- 
baptist and  Quaker  superstition  has  pre- 
vailed enough  to  render  some  of  his  ref- 
utation not  unnecessary.     After  dividing 
war  into  public  and  private,  and  showing 
that  the  establishment  of  civil  justice  does 
not  universally  put  an  end  to  the  right  of 
private  war,  since  cases  may  arise  when 
the  magistrate  cannot  be  waited  for,  and 
others  where  his  interference  cannot  be 
obtained,  he  shows  that  public  war  may 
be  either  solemn  and  regular  according  to 
the  law  of  nations,  or  less  regular  on  a 
sudden  emergency  of  self-defence  ;  class- 
ing also  under  the  latter  any  war  which 
magistrates  not  sovereign*  may  in  peculiar 
circumstances  levy.§    And  this  leads  him 
to  inquire  what  constitutes  sovereignty  ; 
defining,  after  setting  aside  other  descrip- 
tions, that  power  to  be  sovereign  whose 
acts  cannot  be  invalidated  at  the  pleasure 
of  any  other  human  authority,  except  one, 
which,  as  in  the  case  of  a  successor,  has 
exactly  the  same  sovereignty  as  itself. || 

91.  Grotius  rejects  the  opinion  of  those 


*  Lib.  i.,  c.  1.       +  Id.  ibid.     J  C.  2.     $  C.  3. 

II  Summa  potestas  ilia  dicitur,  cujus  actus  alte- 
rius  juri  non  suhjacet,  ita  ut  alterius  voluntatis  hu- 
manae  arbitrio  irriti  possint  reddi,  $  7. 


who  hold  the  people  to  be  every-  Resistanca 
where  sovereign,  so  that  they  i>y  subject* 
may  restrain  and  punish  kings  U1|law('u|- 
for  misgovernment ;  quoting  many  author- 
ities for  the  irresponsibility  of  kings.  Here 
he  lays  down  the  principles  of  non-resist- 
ance, which  he  more  fully  inculcates  in 
the  next  chapter.  But  this  is  done  with 
many  distinctions  as  to  the  nature  of  the 
principality,  which  may  be  held  by  very 
different  conditions.  He  speaks  of  patri- 
monial kingdoms,  which,  as  he  supposes, 
may  be  alienated  like  an  inheritance.  But 
where  the  government  can  be  traced  to 
popular  consent,  he  owns  that  this  power 
of  alienation  should  not  be  presumed  to 
be  comprised  in  the  grant.  Those,  he 
says,  are  much  deceived  who  think  that 
in  kingdoms  where  the  consent  of  a  senate 
or  other  body  is  required  for  new  laws, 
the  sovereignty  itself  is  divided  ;  for  these 
restrictions  must  be  understood  to  have 
been  imposed  by  the  prince  on  his  own 
will,  lest  he  should  be  entrapped  into 
something  contrary  to  his  deliberate  in- 
tention.* Among  other  things  in  this 
chapter,  he  determines  that  neither  an 
unequal  alliance,  that  is,  where  one  party 
retains  great  advantages,  nor  a  feudal 
homage,  takes  away  the  character  of  sov- 
ereignty, so  far,  at  least,  as  authority  over 
subjects  is  concerned. 

93.  In  the  next  chapter  Grotius  dwells 
more  at  length  on  the  alleged  right  of 
subjects  to  resist  their  governors,  and  al- 
together repels  it,  with  the  exception  of 
strict  self-defence,  or  the  improbable  case 
of  a  hostile  spirit,  on  the  prince's  part,  ex- 
tending to  the  destruction  of  his  people. 
Barclay,  the  opponent  of  Buchanan  and 
the  Jesuits,  had  admitted  the  right  of  re- 
sistance against  enormous  cruelty.  If  the 
king  has  abdicated  the  government,  or 
manifestly  relinquished  it,  he  may,  after  a 
time,  be  considered  merely  a  private  per- 
son. But  mere  negligence  in  government 
is  by  no  means  to  be  reckoned  a  relin- 
quishment.f  And  he  also  observes,  that 
if  the  sovereignty  be  divided  between  a 
king  and  part  of  his  subjects  or  the  whole, 
he  may  be  resisted  by  force  in  usurping 
their  share,  because  he  is  no  longer  sover- 
eign as  to  that ;  which  he  holds  to  be  the 
case  even  if  the  right  of  war  be  in  him,  since 
that  must  be  understood  of  a  foreign  war, 
and  it  could  not  be  maintained  that  those 
who  partake  the  sovereignty  have  not  the 


t  Si  rex  aut  alius  quis  imperium  abdicavit,  aut 
manifeste  habet  pro  derelicto,  in  eum  post  id  tern- 
pus  omnia  licent,  quae  in  privatum.  Sed  minirnd 
pro  derelicto  habere  rem  censendus  est,  qui  earn 
tractat  negligentius. — C.  4,  §  9. 


FROM  1600  TO  1650. 


145 


right  to  defend  it ;  in  which  predicament 
a  king  may  lose  even  his  own  share  by 
the  right  of  war.  He  proceeds  to  the  case 
of  usurpation ;  not  such  as  is  warranted 
by  long  prescription,  but  while  the  circum- 
stances that  led  to  the  unjust  possession 
subsist.  Against  such  a  usurper  he  thinks 
it  lawful  to  rebel,  so  long  as  there  is  no 
treaty  or  voluntary  act  of  allegiance ;  at 
least,  if  the  government  de  jure  sanctions 
the  insurrection.  But  where  there  may 
be  a  doubt  whether  the  lawful  ruler  has 
not  acquiesced  in  the  usurpation,  a  private 
person  ought  rather  to  stand  by  possession 
than  to  take  the  decision  upon  himself.* 

93.  The  right  of  war,  which  we  must 
Aitmennat-  nere  understand  in"the  largest 
uraiiy  have   sense,  the  employment  of  force 
right  of  war.  to  resist  force,  though  by  private 
men,  resides  in  all  mankind.     Solon,  he 
says,  taught  us  that  those  commonwealths 
would  be  happy  wherein  each  man  thought 
the  injuries  of  others  were  like  his  own.f 
The   mere   sociability  of  human  nature 
ought  to  suggest  this  to  us.    And,  though 
Grotius  does  not  proceed  with  this  sub- 
ject, he  would  not  have  doubted  that  we 
are  even  bound  by  the  law  of  nature,  not 
merely  that  we  have  a  right,  to  protect 
the  lives  and  goods  of  others  against  law- 
less violence,  without  the  least  reference 
to  positive  law  or  the  command  of  a  ma- 
gistrate.    If  this  has  been  preposterously 
doubted,  or  affected  to  be  doubted,  in  Eng- 
land of  late  years,  it  has  been  less  owing 
to  the  pedantry  which  demands  an  ex- 
press written  law  upon  the  most  pressing 
emergency,  than  to  lukewarmncss,  at  the 
best,  in  the  public  cause  of  order  and  jus- 
tice.   The  expediency  of  vindicating  these 
by  the  slaughter  of  the  aggressors  must 
depend  on  the  peculiar   circumstances ; 
but  the  right  is  paramount  to  any  positive 
law,  even  if,  which  with  us  is  not  the  case, 
it  were  difficult  to  be  proved  from  them. 

94.  We  now  arrive  at  the  first  and  fun- 
night  or       damental  inquiry,  what  is  the 
seifdefence.  rjg]u  Of  self-defence,  including 
the  defence  of  what  is  our  own.     There 
can,  says  Grotius,  be  no  just  cause  of  war 
(that  is,  of  using  force,  for  he  is  now  on 
the  most  general  ground)  but  injury.     For 
this  reason  he  will  not  admit  of  wars  to 
preserve  the  balance  of  power.     An  im- 
minent injury  to  ourselves  or  our  proper- 
ty renders  repulsion  of  the  aggressor  by 
force   legitimate.      But   here  he    argues 
rather  weakly  and  inconsistently  through 
excess  of  charity,  and,  acknowledging  the 


strict  right  of  killing  one  who  would  oth- 
erwise kill  us,  thinks  it  more  praiseworthy 
to  accept  the  alternative.*  The  right  of 
killing  one  who  inflicts  a  smaller  personal 
injury  he  wholly  denies;  and  with  re- 
spect to  a  robber,  while  he  admits  he  may 
be  slain  by  natural  law,  is  of  opinion  that 
the  Gospel  has  greatly  limited  the  privi- 
lege of  defending  our  property  by  such 
means.  Almost  all  jurists  and  theolo- 
gians of  his  day,  he  says,  carry  it  farther 
than  he  does.f  To  public  warfare  he  gives 
a  greater  latitude  than  to  private  self-de- 
fence, but  without  assigning  any  satisfac- 
tory reason  ;  the  true  reason  being  that  so 
rigid  a  school  of  ethics  would  have  ren- 
dered his  book  a  Utopian  theory  instead 
of  a  practicable  code  of  law. 

95.  Injury  to  our  rights,  therefore,  is  a 
just  cause  of  war.      But  what  are  our 
rights  1  What  is  property  ?  whence  does 
it  come  1    what  may  be  its  subjects  ?   in 
whom  does  it  reside  ?     Till  these  ques- 
tions are  determined,  we  can  have   but 
crude  and  indefinite  notions  of  injury,  and, 
consequently,  of  the  rights  we  have  to  re- 
dress it.     The  disquisition  is  necessary, 
but  it  must  be  long;  unless,  indeed,  we 
acquiesce  in  what  we  find  already  written, 
and   seek  for  no  stable  principles  upon 
which  this  grand  and  primary  question  in 
civil  f society,  the  rights  of  property  and 
dominion,  may  rest.     Here  then  begins 
what  has  seemed  to  many  the  abandon- 
ment by  Grotius  of  his  general  subject, 
and  what  certainly  suspends  for  a  consid- 
erable time  the  inquiry  into  international 
law,  but  still  not,  as  it  seems  to  me,  an 
episodical  digression,  at  least  for  the  great- 
er part,  but  a  natural  and  legitimate  in- 
vestigation, springing  immediately  from 
the  principal  theme  of  the  work,  connected 
with  it  more  closely  at  several  intervals, 
and  ultimately  reverting  into  it.     But  of 
this  the  reader  will  judge  as  we  proceed 
with  the  analysis. 

96.  Grotius  begins  with  rather  too  ro- 
mantic a  picture  of  the  early  its  origin  and 
state  of  the  world,  when  men  '""'""'ons- 
lived  on   the   spontaneous   fruits  of  the 
earth,  with  no  property  except  in  what 
each  had  taken  from  the  common  mother's 
lap.     But  this  happy  condition  did  not,  of 
course,  last  very  long,  and  mankind  came 
to  separate  and  exclusive  possession,  each 
man  for  himself  and  against  the  world. 
Original   occupancy  by  persons,  and  di- 


Lib.  ii.,  c.  1,  $  8.    Gronovius  observes  pithily 
and  truly  on  this:  rnelius  occidi  quam  occidere  in- 
uria  :  n<>n  melius  occidi  injuna  quam  occidere  jure. 
t  Hodie  omnes  ferine  tarn  jurisconsult!  quam  the- 


*  $20. 

J1  Ev  r;  TU>V  aSiKoufievaiv  ov%  I'ITTOV  ol  ftrj  aSiKOVficvot 

epo6a\\ovTai  nai  KoA,i|on«  rou?  a&iKovvras.    Ut  cautera  i  ologt  doeeant  recte  homines 'a  nobis  interfici  rerum 
desint  vincula,  sufficit  humans  naturae  commanio.     dcfendendarum  causa,  6  13. 

VOL.  II. —T 


146 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


visions  of  lands  by  the  community,  he 
rightly  holds  to  be  the  two  sources  of  ter- 
ritorial propriety.  Occupation  is  of  two 
sorts,  one  by  the  community  (per  univer- 
sitatem),  the  other  (per  fundos)  by  sever- 
al possession.  What  is  not  thus  occupied 
is  still  the  domain  of  the  state.  Grotius 
conceives  that  mankind  have  reserved  a 
right  of  taking  what  belongs  to  others  in 
extreme  necessity.  It  is  a  still  more  re- 
markable limitation  of  the  right  of  proper- 
ty, that  he  carries  very  far  his  notions  of 
that  of  transit,  maintaining  that  not  only 
rivers,  but  the  territory  itself  of  a  state 
may  be  peaceably  entered,  and  that  per- 
mission cannot  be  refused,  consistently 
with  natural  law,  even  in  the  case  of  ar- 
mies ;  nor  is  the  apprehension  of  incur- 
ring the  hostility  of  the  power  who  is  thus 
attacked  by  the  army  passing  through  our 
territory  a  sufficient  excuse.*  This,  of 
course,  must  now  be  exploded.  Nor  can, 
he  thinks,  the  transit  of  merchandise  be 
forbidden  or  impeded  by  levying  any  far- 
ther tolls  than  are  required  for  the  incident 
expenses.  Strangers  ought  to  be  allowed 
to  settle  on  condition  of  obeying  the  laws, 
and  even  to  occupy  any  waste  tracts  in 
the  territory  ;f  a  position  equally  unten- 
able. It  is  less  unreasonably  that  he 
maintains  the  general  right  of  mankind  to 
buy  what  they  want,  if  the  other  party 
can  spare  it ;  but  he  extends  too  far  his 
principle  that  no  nation  can  be  excluded 
by  another  from  privileges  which  it  con- 
cedes to  the  rest  of  the  world.  In  all  these 
positions,  however,  we  perceive  the  en- 
larged and  philanthropic  spirit  of  the  sys- 
tem of  Grotius,  and  his  disregard  of  the 
usages  of  mankind  when  they  clashed 
with  his  Christian  principles  of  justice. 
But  as  the  very  contrary  supposition  has 
been  established  in  the  belief  of  the  pres- 
ent generation,  it  may  be  doubtful  wheth- 
er his  own  testimony  will  be  thought  suf- 
ficient. 

97.  The  original  acquisition  of  property 
night  of  was,  in  the  infancy  of  human  so- 
occupancy.  cieties,  by  division  or  by  occu- 
pancy; it  is  now  by  occupancy  alone. 
Paullus  has  reckoned  as  a  mode  of  origi- 
nal acquisition,  if  we  have  caused  any- 
thing to  exist,  si  quid  ipsi,  ut  in  rerum  nat- 
ura  esset.  fecimus.  This,  though  not  well 
expressed,  must  mean  the  produce  of  la- 
bour. Grotius  observes,  that  this  resolves 
itself  into  a  continuance  of  a  prior  right, 
or  a  new  one  by  occupancy,  and,  therefore, 
no  peculiar  mode  of  acquisition.  In  those 


*  Sic  etiam  metus  ab  eo  in  quern  bellum  justum 
movet  is  qui  transit,  ad  negandum  trai.sitnm  non 
valet.— Lib.  ii.,  c.  2,  $  13.  f  $  16, 17. 


things  which  naturally  belong  to  no  one, 
there  may  be  two  sorts  of  occupation,  do- 
minion or  sovereignty,  and  property.  And 
in  the  former  sense,  at  least,  rivers  and 
bays  of  the  sea  are  capable  of  occupation. 
In  what  manner  this  may  be  done  he  ex- 
plains at  length.*  But  those  who  occupy 
a  portion  of  the  sea  have  no  right  to  ob- 
struct others  in  fishing.  This  had  been 
the  subject  of  a  controversy  with  Selden ; 
the  one  in  his  Mare  Liberum  denying,  the 
other  in  his  Mare  Clausum-sustaining,  the 
right  of  England  to  exclude  the  fishermen 
of  Holland  from  the  seas  which  she  as- 
serted to  be  her  own. 

98.  The  right  of  occupancy  exists  as 
to  things  derelict  or  abandoned  Relinquish- 
by  their  owners.      But  it  is   of  mem  of  u. 
more  importance  to  consider  the  presump- 
tions of  such  relinquishment  by  sovereign 
states,   as  distinguished  from   mere  pre- 
scription.     The  nonclaim  of  the  owner 
during  a  long  period  seems  the  only  means 
of  giving  a  right  where  none  originally 
existed.     It  must  be  the  silent  acquies- 
cence of  one  who  knows  his  rights  and  has 
his  free  will.     But  when  this  abandonment 
has  once  taken  place,  it  bars  unborn  claim- 
ants ;  for  he  who  is  not  born.  Grotius  says, 
has  no  rights  ;  ejus  qui  nondum  est  natus 
nullum  est  jus.f 

99.  A  right  over  persons  may  be  ac- 
quired in  three  ways— by  genera-  Rj  ht  ovej. 
tion,  by  their  consent,  by  their  persons, 
crime.     In  children   we  are  to  By  genera- 
consider  three  periods  :  that   of  tlon' 
imperfect  judgment  or  infancy,   that   of 
adult  age  in  the  father's  family,  and  that 
of  emancipation  or  foris-familiation,  when 
they  have  ceased  to  form  a  part  of  it. 
In  the  first  of  these,  a  child  is  capable  of 
property  in  possession,  but  not  in  enjoy, 
ment.     In  the  second,  he  is  subject  to  the 
parent  only  in  actions  which  affect  the 
family.     In  the  third,  he  is  wholly  his  own 
master.     All  beyond  this  is  positive  law. 
The  paternal  power  was  almost  peculiar 
to  the  Romans,  though  the  Persians  are 
said  to  have  had  something  of  the  same. 
Grotius,  we  perceive,  was  no  ally  of  those 
who  elevated  the  patriarchal  power  in  or- 
der to  found  upon  it  a  despotic  polity ; 
nor  does  he  raise  it  by  any  means  so  high 
as  Bodin.     The  customs  of  Eastern  na- 
tions would  perhaps  have  warranted  some- 
what more  than  he  concedes.! 

100.  Consent  is  the  second  mode  of  ac- 
quiring dominion.     The  conso-  By  consent, 
ciation  of  male  and  female  is  in  marriage 
the  first  species  of  it,  which  is  principally 
in  marriage,  for  which  the  promise  of  the 


*  C.3. 


t  C.4. 


.  5. 


FROM  1600  TO  1650. 


woman  to  be  faithful  is  required.  But  he 
thinks  that  there  is  no  mutual  obligation 
by  the  law  of  nature  ;  which  seems  de- 
signed to  save  the  polygamy  of  the  patri- 
archs. He  then  discusses  the  chief  ques- 
tions as  to  divorce,  polygamy,  clandestine 
marriages,  and  incest ;  holding  that  no 
unions  are  forbidden  by  natural  law  ex- 
cept in  the  direct  line.  Concubines,  in 
1  the  sense  of  the  Roman  jurisprudence,  are 
true  Christian  wives.* 

101.  In  all  other  consociations  except 
in  common-  marriage,  it  is  a  rule  that  the 
wealths.       majority  can  bind  the  minority. 
Of  these  the  principal  is  a  commonwealth. 
And  here  he  maintains  the  right  of  every 
citizen  to  leave  his  country,  and  that  the 
state  retains  no  right  over  those  it  has 
banished.      Subjection,  which  may  arise 
from  one  kind  of  consent,  is  either  pri- 
vate or  public ;  the  former  is  of  several 
species,  among    which   adoption,   in  the 
Roman  sense,  is  the  noblest,  and  servitude 
the  meanest.     In  the  latter  case,  the  mas- 
ter has  not  the  right  of  life  and  death  over 
his  servants,  though  some  laws  give  him 
impunity.      He   is  perplexed   about  the 
right  over  persons  born  in  slavery,  since 
his  theory  of  its  origin  will  not  support 
it.     But  in  the  case  of  public  subjection, 
where  one  state  becomes  voluntarily  sub- 
ject to  another,  he  finds  no  difficulty  in  the 
unborn,  because  the  people  is  the  same, 
notwithstanding  the  succession  of  individ- 
uals ;  which  seems  paying  too  much  def- 
erence to  a  legal  fiction. f 

102.  The  right  of  alienating  altogether 
Right  of    the  territory  he   grants  to  patri- 
uiienaung  monial  sovereigns.     But  he  de- 
Bubjects.    njes  |-nat  a  part  can  j-,e  separated 

from  the  rest  without  its  consent,  either 
by  the  community  or  by  the  sovereign, 
however  large  his  authority  may  be.  This 
lie  extends  to  subjection  of  the  kingdom 
to  vassalage.  The  right  of  alienating  pri- 
Aiienation  •  vate  property  by  testament  is 
by  testament,  founded,  he  thinks,  in  natural 
law  ;|  a  position  wherein  I  can  by  no 
means  concur.  In  conformity  with  this, 
he  derives  the  right  of  succession  by  in- 
testacy from  the  presumed  intention  of 
the  deceased,  and  proceeds  to  dilate  on 
the  different  rules  of  succession  establish- 
ed by  civil  laws.  Yet  the  rule  that  pater- 
nal and  maternal  heirs  shall  take  respect- 
ively what  descended  from  the  ancestors 
on  each  side,  he  conceives  to  be  founded 
in  the  law  of  nature,  though  subject  to  the 
right  of  bequest.^ 


*  C.  5.  f  Id.  J  C.  6,  6  14. 

4  C.  7.  In  this  chapter  Grotius  decides  mat  pa- 
rents are  not  bound  by  strict  justice  to  maintain 
their  children.  The  case  is  stronger  the  other 


147 


103.  In  treating  of  the  acquisition  of 
property  by  the  law  of  nations,  Righlsof 
he  means  only  the  arbitrary  con-  property  by 
stitutions  of  the  Roman  and  oth-  P°sitiye  ia*. 
er  codes!    Some  of  these  he  deems  found- 
ed in  no  solid  reason,  though  the  lawgiv- 
ers of  every  country  have  a  right  to  deter- 
mine such  matters  as  they  think  fit.    Thus 
the  Roman  law  recognises  no  property  in 
animals  fera  nature,  which  that  of  modern 
nations  gives,  he  says,  to  the  owner  of  the 
soil  where  they  are  found,  not  unreason- 
ably any  more  than  the  opposite  maxim  is 
unreasonable.     So  of  a  treasure  found  in 
the  earth,  and  many  other  cases,  wherein 
it  is  hard  to  say  that  the  law  of  nature  and 
reason  prescribes  one  rule  more  than  an- 
other.* 

104.  The  rights  of  sovereignty  and  prop- 
erty may  terminate  by  extinction  Extinction 
of  the  ruling  or  possessing  family  of  rights, 
without  provision  of  successors.     Slaves 
then  become  free,  and  subjects  their  own 
masters.     For  there  can  be  no  new  right 
by  occupancy  in  such.     Even  a  people  or 
community  may  cease  to  exist,  though  the 
identity  of  persons  or  even  of  race  is  not 
necessary  for  its  continuance.     It  may  ex- 
pire by  voluntary  dispersion,  or  by  subju- 
gation to  another  state.     But  mere  change 
of  place  by  simultaneous  emigration  will 
not  destroy  a  political  society,  much  less 
a  change  of  internal  government.     Hence 
a  republic  becoming  a  monarchy,  it  stands 
in  the  same  relation  to  other  communities 
as  before,  and,  in  particular,  is  subject  to 
all  its  former  debts. f 

105.  In  a  chapter  on  the  obligations 
which  the  right  of  property  im-  Some  casu. 
poses  on  others  than  the  propri-  istical  ques- 
etor,  we  find  some  of  the  more  ttons- 
delicate  questions  in  the  casuistry  of  nat- 
ural law,  such  as  relate  to  the  bona  fide 


way,  in  return  for  early  protection.  Barbeyrac 
thinks  that  aliment  is  due  to  children  by  strict  right 
during  infancy.  *  $  S. 

t  (f  2.  At  the  end  of  this  chapter,  Grotius  un- 
fortunately raises  a  question,  his  solution  of  which 
laid  him  open  to  censure.  He  inquires  to  whom 
the  countries  formerly  subject  to  the  Roman  empire 
belong?  And  here  he  comes  to  the  inconceivable 
paradox,  that  that  empire  and  the  rights  of  the  cit- 
izens of  Rome  still  subsist.  Gronovius  bitterly  re- 
marks, in  a  note  on  this  passage,  Mirum  est  hoc 
loco  summum  virum,  cum  in  praecipua  questione 
non  male  sentiret,  in  tot  salebras  se  conjecisse, 
totque  monstra  et  chimseras  confmxisse,  ut  aliquid 
novum  diceret,  et  Gerrnanis  potius  ludibrium  debe- 
ret,  quam  Gallis  et  Papae  parum  placeret.  This, 
however,  is  very  uncandid,  as  Barbeyrac  truly 
points  out;  since  neither  of  these  could  take  much 
interest  in  a  theory  which  reserved  a  supremacy 
over  the  world  to  the  Roman  people.  It  is  proba- 
bly the  weakest  passage  in  all  the  writings  of  Gro- 
tius, though  there  are  too  many  which  do  not  en- 
hance his  fame. 


148 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


possessor  of  another's  property.  Gro- 
tius,  always  siding  with  the  stricter  mor- 
alists, asserts  that  he  is  bound  not  only  to 
restore  the  substance,  but  the  interme- 
diate profits,  without  any  claim  for  the 
valuable  consideration  which  he  may  have 
paid.  His  commentator  Barbeyrac,  of  a 
later  and  laxer  school  of  casuistry,  denies 
much  of  this  doctrine.* 

106.  That  great  branch  of  ethics  which 
relates  to  the  obligation  of  prom- 
''  ises  has  been  so  diffusely  handled 
by  the  casuists,  as  well  as  philosophers, 
that  Grotius  deserves  much  credit  for  the 
brevity  with  which  he  has  laid  down  the 
simple  principles,  and  discussed  some  of 
the  more  difficult  problems.  That  mere 
promises,  or  nuda  pacta,  where  there  is 
neither  mutual  benefit,  nor  what  the  ju- 
rists call  synallagmatic  contract,  are  bind- 
ing on  the  conscience,  whatever  they  may 
be,  or  ought  to  be,  in  law,  is  maintained 
against  a  distinguished  civilian,  Francis 
Connan ;  nor  does  Barbeyrac  seem  to 
dispute  this  general  tenet  of  moral  phi- 
losophers. Puffendorf,  however,  says 
that  there  is  a  tacit  condition  in  promises 
of  this  kind,  that  they  can  be  performed 
without  great  loss  to  the  promiser;  and 
Cicero  holds  them  to  be  released,  if  their 
performance  would  be  more  detrimental 
to  one  party  than  serviceable  to  the  other. 
This  gives  a  good  deal  of  latitude  ;  but 
perhaps  they  are,  in  such  cases,  open  to 
compensation  without  actual  fulfilment. 
A  promise  given  without  deliberation,  ac- 
cording to  Grotius  himself,  is  not  binding. 
Those  founded  on  deceit  or  error  admit 
of  many  distinctions  ;  but  he  determines, 
in  the  celebrated  question  of  extorted 
promises,  that  they  are  valid  by  the  natu- 
ral, though  their  obligation  may  be  an- 
nulled by  the  civil  law.  But  the  promisee 
is  bound  to  release  a  promise  thus  unduly 
obtained.*  Thus  also  the  civil  law  may 

*  C.  10.  Onr  own  jurisprudence  goes  upon  the 
principles  of  Grotins,  and  even  denies  the  possessor 
by  a  bad  title,  though  bona  fide,  any  indemnification 
for  what  he  may  have  laid  out  to  the  benefit  of  the 
property,  which  seems  hardly  consonant  to  the 
strictest  rules  of  natural  law. 

t  C.  11,  §  7?  It  is  not  very  probable  that  the 
promisee  will  fulfil  this  obligation  in  such  a  case  ; 
and  the  decision  of  Grotius,  though  conformable  to 
that  of  the  theological  casuists  in  general,  is  justly 
rejected  by  Puffendorf  and  Barbeyrac,  as  well  as 
by  many  writers  of  the  last  century.  The  princi- 
ple seems  to  be,  that  right  and  obligation  in  mat- 
ters of  agreement  are  correlative,  and  where  the 
first  does  not  arise,  the  second  cannot  exist.  Adam 
Smith  and  Paley  incline  to  think  the  promise 
ought,  under  certain  circumstances,  to  be  kept ; 
but  the  reasons  they  give  are  not  founded  on  the 
justitia  expletrix,  which  the  proper  obligation  of 
promises,  as  such,  requires.  It  is  also  a  proof  how 
little  the  moral  sense  of  mankind  goes  along  with 


annul  other  promises,  which  would  natu- 
rally be  binding,  as  one  of  prospective 
marriage  between  persons  already  under 
that  engagement  towards  another.  These 
instances  are  sufficient  to  show  the  spirit 
in  which  Grotius  always  approaches  the 
decision  of  moral  questions  ;  serious  and 
learned  rather  than  profound  in  seeking  a 
principle,  or  acute  in  establishing  a  dis- 
tinction. In  the  latter  quality  he  falls 
much  below  his  annotator  Barbeyrac,  who 
had,  indeed,  the  advantage  of  coming  near- 
ly a  century  nfter  him. 

107.  In  no  part  of  his  work  has  Grotius 
dwelt  so  much  on  the  rules  and  n    . 

,.     .        .  ..   ,      „  Contracts. 

distinctions  of  the  Roman  law  as 
in  his  chapter  on  contracts ;  nor  was  it 
very  easy  or  desirable  to  avoid  it.*  The 
wisdom  of  those  great  men,  from  the 
fragments  of  whose  determinations  the 
existing  jurisprudence  of  Europe,  in  sub- 
jects of  this  kind,  has  been  chiefly  derived, 
could  not  be  set  aside  without  presump- 
tion, nor  appropriated  without  ingratitude. 
Less  fettered,  at  least  in  the  best  age  of 
Roman  jurisprudence,  by  legislative  in- 
terference than  our  modern  lawyers  have 
commonly  been,  they  resorted  to  no  other 
prinoiples  than  those  of  natural  justice. 
That  the  Roman  law,  in  all  its  parts,  coin- 
cides with  the  best  possible  platform  of 
natural  jurisprudence,  it  would  be  foolish 
to  assert ;  but  that  in  this  great  province, 
or,  rather,  demesne  land  of  justice,  the 
regulation  of  contracts  between  man  and 
man,  it  does  not  considerably  deviate  from 
the  right  line  of  reason,  has  never  been 
disputed  by  any  one  in  the  least  conver- 
sant with  the  Pandects. 

108.  It  will  be  manifest,  however,  to  the 
attentive  reader  of  Grotius  in  this  considered 
chapter,  that  he  treats  the  subject  ethically, 
of  contract  as  a  part  of  ethics  rather  than 
of  jurisprudence ;   and  it  is  only  by  the 
frequent  parallelism  of  the  two  sciences 
that   the    contrary   could   be    suspected. 
Thus   he  maintains  that,  equality  being 
the  principle  of  the  contract  by  sale,  ei- 
ther party  is  forced  to  restore  the  differ- 
ence arising  from  a  misapprehension  of 
the  other,  even  without  his  own  fault,  and 
this  whatever  may  be  the  amount,  though 
the  civil  law  gives  a  remedy  only  where 
the  difference   exceeds  one   half  of  the 
price.f    And  in  several  other  places  he 


the  rigid  casuists  in  this  respect,  that  no  one  is 
blamed  for  defending  himself  against  a  bond  given 
through  duress  or  illegal  violence,  if  the  plea  be  a 
true  one. 

In  a  subsequent  passage,  1.  iii.,  c.  19,  §  4,  Grotius 
seems  to  carry  this  theory  of  the  duty  of  releasing 
an  unjust  promise  so  far  as  to  deny  its  obligation, 
and  thus  circuitously  to  agree  with  the  opposite 
class  of  casuists.  *  C.  12.  f  C.  12,  $  12. 


FROM  1COO  TO  1650. 


149 


diverges  equally  from  that  law.  Not  tha 
he  ever  contemplated  what  Smith  seems 
to  have  meant  by  "  natural  jurispru 
dence,"  a  theory  of  the  principles  whicl 
ought  to  run  through  and  to  be  the  found 
ation  of  the  laws  of  all  nations.  But  he 
knew  that  the  judge  in  the  tribunal,  am 
the  inward  judge  in  the  breast,  ever 
where  their  subjects  of  determination  ap- 
pear essentially  the  same,  must  have  dif- 
ferent boundaries  to  their  jurisdiction 
and  that,  as  the  general  maxims  and  in- 
flexible forms  of  external  law,  in  attempt 
to  accommodate  themselves  to  the  subtle- 
ties of  casuistry,  would  become  uncertain 
and  arbitrary,  so  the  finer  emotions  of  the 
conscience  would  lose  all  their  moral  effi- 
cacy by  restraining  the  duties  of  justice 
to  that  which  can  be  enforced  by  the  law. 
In  the  course  of  this  twelfth  chapter  we 
come  to  a  question  much  debated  in  the 
time  of  Grotius,  the  lawfulness  of  usury. 
After  admitting,  against  the  common  opin- 
ion, that  it  is  not  repugnant  to  the  law  of 
nature,  he  yet  maintains  the  prohibition  in 
the  Mosaic  code  to  be  binding  on  all  man- 
kind.* An  extraordinary  position,  it  would 
seem,  in  one  who  had  denied  any  part  of 
that  system  to  be  truly  a  universal  law. 
This  was,  however,  the  usual  determina- 
tion of  casuists  ;  but  he  follows  it  up,  as 
was  also  usual,  with  so  many  exceptions 
as  materially  relax  and  invalidate  the  ap- 
plicatioifcof  his  rule. 

109.  The  next  chapter,  on  promissory 
Promissory  oaths,  is  a  corollary  to  the  last 
oaths.  two.  It  was  the  opinion  of  Gro- 
tius, as  it  had  been  of  all  theologians,  and, 
in  truth,  of  all  mankind,  that  a  promise  or 
contract  not  only  becomes  more  solemn, 
and  entails  on  its  breach  a  severer  penal- 
ty, by  means  of  this  adjuration  of  the  Su- 
preme Being,  but  may  even  acquire  a  sub- 
stantial validity  by  it  in  cases  where  no 
prior  obligation  would  subsist.!  This 
chapter  is  distinguished  by  a  more  than 
usually  profuse  erudition.  But,  notwith- 
standing the  rigid  observance  of  oaths 
which  he  deems  incumbent  by  natural  and 
revealed  law,  he  admits  of  a  considerable 
authority  in  the  civil  magistrate  or  other 
superior,  as  a  husband  or  father,  to  annul 
the  oaths  of  inferiors  beforehand,  or  to 
dispense  with  them  afterward ;  not  that 
they  can  release  a  moral  obligation,  but 
that  the  obligation  itself  is  incurred  under 
a  tacit  condition  of  their  consent.  And 
he  seems,  in  rather  a  singular  manner,  to 
hint  a  kind  of  approval  of  such  dispensa- 
tions  by  the  Church.J 


*  6  20.  t  C.  13. 

t  9  20.     Ex   hoc  fundamento  defendi  ppssunt 
abaolutiones  juramentorum,  quse  oliin  aprincipibus, 


110.  Whatever  has  been  laid  down  by 
Grotius  in  the  last  three  chap-  Vn 

i  ,•    r     t-ngazemenw 

ters  as  to  the  natural  obhga-  of  kings  to- 
tions  of  mankind,  has  an  espe-  wards  8Ub* 
cial  reference  to  the  main  pur-  Jecl 
port  of  this  great  work,  the  duties  of  the 
supreme  power.  But  the  engagements 
of  sovereigns  give  rise  to  many  questions 
which  cannot  occur  in  those  of  private 
men.  In  the  chapter  which  ensues,  on 
the  promises,  oaths,  and  contracts  of  sov- 
ereigns, he  confines  himself  to  those  en- 
gagements which  immediately  affect  their 
subjects.  These  it  is  of  great  importance, 
in  the  author's  assumed  province  of  the 
general  confessor  or  casuist  of  kings,  to 
place  on  a  right  footing;  because  they 
have  never  wanted  subservient  counsel- 
lors, who  would  wrest  the  law  of  con- 
science, as  well  as  that  of  the  land,  to  the 
interests  of  power.  Grotius,  in  denying 
that  the  sovereign  may  revoke  his  own 
contracts,  extends  this  case  to  those  made 
by  him  during  his  minority,  without  lim- 
itation to  such  as  have  been  authorized  by 
his  guardians.*  His  contracts  with  his 
subjects  create  a  true  obligation,  of  which 
they  may  claim,  though  not  enforce  the 
performance.  He  hesitates  whether  to 
call  this  obligation  a  civil,  or  only  a  natu- 
ral one  ;  and,  in  fact,  it  can  only  be  deter- 
mined by  positive  law.f  Whether  the 
successors  of  a  sovereign  are  bound  by 
his  engagements,  must  depend  on  the  po- 
litical constitution,  and  on  the  nature  of 
the  engagement.  Those  of  a  usurper  he 
determines  not  to  be  binding,  which  should 
probably  be  limited  to  domestic  contracts, 
ihough  his  language  seems  large  enough 
to  comprise  engagements  towards  foreign 
states.:}: 

111.  We  now  return  from  what,  in 
strict  language,  may  pass  for  a  long  Public 
digression,  though  not  a  needless  treaties, 
one,  to  the  main  stream  of  international 
aw.  The  title  of  the  fifteenth  chapter  is 
on  Public  Treaties.  After  several  divis- 
ons,  which  it  would  at  present  be  thought 
unnecessary  to  specify  so  much  at  length, 
3rotius  enters  on  a  question  not  then  set- 
led  by  theologians,  whether  alliances 
with  infidel  powers  were  in  any  circum- 
stances lawful.  Francis  I.  had  given 
'real  scandal  in  Europe  by  his  league  with 
he  Turk.  And,  though  Grotius  admits 
the  general  lawfulness  of  such  alliances, 


unc  ipsorum  principum  voluntate,  quo  magis  cau- 
urn  sit  pietati,  ab  ecclesiae  prassidibus  exercentur. 

*  C.  14,  $  1.  t$6. 

J  Contractibus  vero  eorum  qui  sine  jure  imperi- 
um  invaserunt,  non  tenebuntur  populi  aut  veri 
eges,  nam  hi  jus  obligandi  populum  non  habue 
unt,  $  14. 


150 

it  is  under  limitations  which  would  hardly 
have  borne  out  the  court  of  France  in  pro- 
moting the  aggrandizement  of  the  com- 
mon enemy  of  Christendom.  Another 
and  more  extensive  head  in  the  casuistry 
of  nations  relates  to  treaties  that  have 
been  concluded  without  the  authority  of 
the  sovereign.  That  he  is  not  bound  by 
these  engagements  is  evident  as  a  leading 
rule  ;  but  the  course  which,  according  to 
natural  law,  ought  to  be  taken  in  such 
circumstances  is  often  doubtful.  The  fa- 
mous capitulation  of  the  Roman  army  at 
the  Caudine  Forks  is  in  point.  Grotius,  a 
rigid  casuist,  determines  that  the  senate 
were  not  bound  to  replace  their  army  in 
the  condition  from  which  the  treaty  had 
delivered  them.  And  this  seems  to  be  a 
rational  decision,  though  the  Romans  have 
sometimes  incurred  the  censure  of  ill  faith 
for  their  conduct.  But  if  the  sovereign  has 
not  only  by  silence  acquiesced  in  the  en- 
gagement of  his  ambassador  or  general, 
which  of  itself,  according  to  Grotius,  will 
not  amount  to  an  implied  ratification,  but 
recognised  it.  by  some  overt  act  of  his 
own,  he  cannot  afterward  plead  the  defect 
of  sanction.* 

112.  Promises  consist  externally  in 
Their  inter-  words,  really  in  the  intention  of 
pretation.  the  parties.  But  as  the  evidence 
of  this  intention  must  usually  depend  on 
words,  we  should  adapt  our  general  rules 
to  their  natural  meaning.  Common  usage 
is  to  determine  the  interpretation  of  agree- 
ments, except  where  terms  of  a  technical 
sense  have  been  employed.  But  if  the  ex- 
pressions will  bear  different  senses,  or  if 
there  is  some  apparent  inconsistency  in 
different  clauses,  it  becomes  necessary  to 
collect  the  meaning  conjecturally,  from 
the  nature  of  the  subject,  from  the  conse- 
quences of  the  proposed  interpretation, 
and  from  its  bearing  on  other  parts  of  the 
agreement.  This  serves  to  exclude  un- 
reasonable and  unfair  constructions  from 
the  equivocal  language  of  treaties,  such 
as  was  usual  in  former  times  to  a  degree 
which  the  greater  prudence  of  contracting 
parties,  if  not  their  better  faith,  has 
rendered  impossible  in  modern  Europe. 
Among  other  rules  of  interpretation, 
whether  in  private  or  public  engagements, 
he  lays  down  one,  familiar  to  the  jurists, 
but  concerning  the  validity  of  which  some 
have  doubted,  that  things  favourable,  as 
they  style  them,  or  conferring  a  benefit, 
are  to  be  construed  largely  ;  things  odious, 
or  erroneous  to  one  party,  are  not  to  be 
stretched  beyond  the  letter.  Our  own  law, 
as  is  well  known,  adopts  this  distinction 

*  C.  15. 


between  remedial  and  penal  statutes ;  and 
it  seems  (wherever  that  which  is  favour- 
able in  one  sense  is  not  odious  in  another; 
the  most  equitable  principle  in  public  con- 
ventions. The  celebrated  question,  the 
cause,  or,  as  Polybius  more  truly  calls  it, 
the  pretext  of  the  second  Punic  war, 
whether  the  terms  of  a  treaty  binding  each 
party  not  to  attack  the  allies  of  the  other 
will" comprehend  those  who  had  entered 
subsequently  into  alliance,  seems,  but 
rather  on  doubtful  grounds,  to  be  decided 
in  the  negative.  Several  other  cases 
from  history  are  agreeably  introduced  in 
this  chapter.* 

113.  It  is  often,  he  observes,  important 
to  ascertain  whether  a  treaty  be  personal 
or  real,  that  is,  whether  it  affect  only  the 
contracting  sovereign  or  the  state.     The 
treaties  of  republics  are   always  real  or 
permanent,  even  if  the  form  of  govern- 
ment should  become  monarchical ;  but  the 
converse  is  not  true  as  to  those  of  kings, 
which  are  to  be  interpreted  according  to 
the  probable  meaning  where  there  are  no 
words  of  restraint  or  extension.     A  treaty 
subsists  with  a  king,  though  he  may  be 
expelled  by  his  subjects ;    nor  is  it  any 
breach  of  faith  to  take  up  arms  against  a 
usurper  with  the  lawful  sovereign's  con- 
sent.    This  is  not  a  doctrine  which  would 
now  be  endured. f 

114.  Besides  those  rules  of  interpreta- 
tion which  depend  on  explaining  the  words 
of  an  engagement,  there  are  otlArs  which 
must  sometimes  be  employed  to  extend 
or  limit  the  meaning  beyond  any  natural 
construction.     Thus,  in  the  old  law-case, 
a  bequest,  in  the  event  of  the  testator's 
posthumous   son  dying,  was   held   valid 
where  none  was  born,  and  instances  of 
this  kind  are  continual  in  the  books  of 
jurisprudence.     It  is  equally  reasonable 
sometimes  to  restrain  the  terms  of  a  prom- 
ise, where  they  clearly  appear  to  go  be- 
yond the  design  of  the  promiser,  or  where 
supervenient  circumstances   indicate   an 
exception  which  he  would  infallibly  have 
made.     A  few  sections  in  this  place  seem, 
perhaps,  more  fit  to  be  inserted  in  the 
eleventh  chapter. 

115.  There  is  a  natural  obligation  to 
make  amends  for  injury  to  the  Obligation  to 
natural  rights  of  another,  which  rei>air  inJury- 
is  extended  by  means  of  the  establishment 
of  property  and  of  civil  society  to  all  which 
the  laws  have  accorded  him.J     Hence  a 
correlative  right  arises,  but  a  right  which 
is  to  be  distinguished  from  fitness  or  mer- 
it.    The  jurists  were  accustomed  to  treat 
expletive  justice,  which  consists  in  giving 


*  C.  16. 


t  C.  16,  $  17. 


t  C.  17 


FROM  1600  TO  1650. 


151 


to  every  one  what  is  strictly  his  own,  sep- 
arately from  attributive  justice,  the  equi- 
table and  right  dispensation  of  all  things 
according  to  desert.  With  the  latter  Gro- 
tius  has  nothing  to  do ;  nor  is  he  to  be 
charged  with  introducing  the  distinction 
of  perfect  and  imperfect  rights,  if,  indeed, 
those  phrases  are  as  objectionable  as  some 
have  accounted  them.  In  the  far  greater 
part  of  this  chapter  he  considers  the  prin- 
ciples of  this  important  province  of  natu- 
ral law,  the  obligation  to  compensate  dam- 
age, rather  as  it  affects  private  persons 
than  sovereign  states.  As,  in  most  in- 
stances, this  falls  within  the  jurisdiction 
of  civil  tribunals,  the  rules  laid  down  by 
Grotius  may,  to  a  hasty  reader,  seem  rath- 
er intended  as  directory  to  the  judge  than 
to  the  conscience  of  the  offending  party. 
This,  however,  is  not  by  any  means  the 
.case;  he  is  here,  as  almost  everywhere 
else,  a  master  in  morality  and  not  in  law. 
That  he  is  not  obsequiously  following  the 
Roman  law  will  appear  by  his  determining 
against  the  natural  responsibility  of  the 
owner  for  injuries  committed,  without  his 
fault,  by  a  slave  or  a  beast.*  But  sover- 
eigns, he  holds,  are  answerable  for  the  pi- 
racies and  robberies  of  their  subjects  when 
they  are  able  to  prevent  them.  This  is 
the  only  case  of  national  law  which  he 
discusses.  But  it  is  one  of  high  impor- 
tance, being,  in  fact,  one  of  the  ordinary 
causes  of  public  hostility.  This  liability, 
however,  does  not  exist  where  subjects, 
having  obtained  a  lawful  commission  by 
letters  of  marque,  become  common  pi- 
rates, and  do  not  return  home. 

116.  Thus  far,  the  author  begins  in  the 
nights  by  eighteenth  chapter,  we  have  treat- 
law  of  na-  ed  of  rights  founded  on  natural 
turns.  iaWj  wjth  some  little  mixture  of 
the  arbitrary  law  of  nations.  We  come 
now  to  those  which  depend  wholly  on  the 
latter.  Such  are  the  rights  of  ambassadors. 
Those  of  am-  We  have  now,  therefore,  to  have 
bassadors.  recourse  more  to  the  usage  of 
civilized  people  than  to  theoretical  prin- 
ciples. The  practice  of  mankind  has,  in 
fact,  been  so  much  more  uniform  as  to 
the  privileges  of  ambassadors  than  other 
matters  of  national  intercourse,  that  they 
early  acquired  the  authority  and  denomi- 
nation of  public  law.  The  obligation  to 
receive  ambassadors  from  other  sovereign 
states,  the  respect  due  to  them,  their  im- 
punity in  offences  committed  by  their 
principals  or  by  themselves,  are  not,  in- 
deed, wholly  founded  on  custom,  to  the 
exclusion  of  the  reason  of  the  case,  nor 


*  This  is  in  the  8th  title  of  the  4th  hook  of  the 
Institutes:  Si  quadrupes  pauperiem fecerit.  Pau- 
peries  means  damnum  sine  injuria.  • 


have  the  customs  of  mankind,  even  here, 
been  so  unlike  themselves  as  to  furnish 
no  contradictory  precedents  ;  but  they  af- 
ford, perhaps,  the  best  instance  of  a  tacit 
agreement,  distinguishable  both  from  moral 
right  and  from  positive  convention,  which 
is  specifically  denominated  the  lAw  of  na- 
tions. It  may  be  mentioned  that  Grotius 
determines  in  favour  of  the  absolute  im- 
puE'ty  of  ambassadors;  that  is,  their  irre- 
sponsibility to  the  tribunals  of  the  country 
where  they  reside,  in  the  case  of  personal 
crimes,  and  even  of  conspiracy  against  the 
government.  This,  however,  he  founds 
altogether  upon  what  he  conceives  to  have 
been  the  prevailing  usage  of  civilized 
states.* 

117.  The  next  chapter,  on  the  right  of 
sepulture,  appears  more  excursive  Right  of 
than  any  other  in  the  whole  trea-  sepulture, 
tise.  The  right  of  sepulture  can  hardly 
become  a  public  question  except  in  time  of 
war,  and,  as  such,  it  might  have  been  short- 
ly noticed  in  the  third  book.  It  supplies 
Grotius,  however,  with  a  brilliant  prodigal- 
ity of  classical  learning,  f  But  the  next  is 
far  more  important.  It  is  entitled  On  Pun- 
ishments. The  injuries  done  to  _ 
us  by  others  give  rise  to  our  Pumshment3- 
right  of  compensation  and  to  our  right  of 
punishment.  We  have  to  examine  the 
latter  with  the  more  care,  that  many  have 
fallen  into  mistakes  from  not  duly  appre- 
hending the  foundation  and  nature  of  pun- 
ishment. Punishment  is,  as  Grotius  rather 
quaintly  defines  it,  Malum  passionis,  quod 
infligitur  ob  malum  actionis,  evil  inflicted 
on  another  for  the  evil  which  he  has  com- 
mitted. It  is  not  a  part  of  attributive  and 
hardly  of  expletive  justice,  nor  is  it,  in  its 
primary  design,  proportioned  to  the  guilt 
of  the  criminal,  but  to  the  magnitude  of 
the  crime.  All  men  have  naturally  a  right 
to  punish  crimes,  except  those  who  are 
themselves  equally  guilty  ;  but  though  the 
criminal  would  have  no  ground  to  com- 
plain, the  mere  pleasure  of  revenge  is  not 
a  sufficient  motive  to  warrant  us ;  there 
must  be  a  useful  end  to  render  punish- 
ment legitimate.  This  end  may  be  the  ad- 
vantage of  the  criminal  himself,  or  of  the 
injured  party,  or  of  mankind  in  general. 
The  interest  of  the  injured  party  here 
considered  is  not  of  reparation,  which, 
though  it  may  be  provided  for  in  punish- 
ment, is  no  proper  part  of  it,  but  security 
against  similar  offences  of  the  guilty  party 
or  of  others.  AH  men  may  naturally  seek 
this  security  by  punishing  the  offender; 
and  though  it  is  expedient  in  civil  society 
that  this  right  should  be  transferred  to  the 


*  C.  18. 


f  C.  19. 


152 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


judge,  it  is  not  taken  away  where  recourse 
cannot  be  had  to  the  law.  Every  man 
may  even,  by  the  law  of  nature,  punish 
crimes  by  which  he  has  sustained  no  in- 
jury ;  the  public  good  of  society  requiring 
security  against  offenders,  and  rendering 
them  common  enemies.* 

118.  Grotius  next  proceeds  to  consider 
whether  these  rights  of  punishment  are 
restrained   by  revelation,  and   concludes 
that  a  private  Christian  is  not  at  liberty 
to  punish  any  criminal,  especially  with 
death,  for  his  own  security  or  that  of  the 
public,  but  that  the  magistrate  is  expressly 
empowered  by  Scripture  to  employ  the 
sword  against  malefactors.     It  is  rather 
an  excess  of  scrupulousness  that  he  holds 
it  unbecoming  to  seek  offices  which  give 
a  jurisdiction  in  capital  cases. f 

119.  Many  things  essentially  evil  are 
not  properly  punishable  by  human  laws. 
Such  are  thoughts  and  intentions,  errors 
of  frailty,  or  actions  from  which,  though 
morally  wrong,  human  society  suffers  no 
mischief;  or  the  absence  of  such  voluntary 
virtues  as  compassion  and  gratitude.    Nor 
is  it  always  necessary  to  inflict  lawful 
punishment,    many   circumstances    war- 
ranting its  remission.   The  ground  of  pun- 
ishment is  the  guilt  of  the  offender,  its 
motive  is  the  advantage  expected  from  it. 
No  punishment  should  exceed  what  is  de- 
served, but  it  may  be  diminished  accord- 
ing to  the  prospect  of  utility,  or  according 
to  palliating  circumstances.     But,  though 
punishments  should  bear  proportion  to  of- 
fences, it  does  not  follow  that  the  criminal 
should  suffer  no  more  evil  than  he  has 
occasioned,  which   would  give  him  too 
easy  a  measure  of  retribution.     The  gen- 
eral tendency  of  all  that  Grotius  has  said 
in  this  chapter  is  remarkably  indulgent 
and  humane,  beyond  the  practice  or  even 
the  philosophy  of  his  age.J 

120.  War  is  commonly  grounded  upon 
the  right  of  punishing  injuries,  so  that  the 
general  principles  upon  which  this  right 
depends  upon  mankind  ought  well  to  be 
understood  before  we   can  judge   of  so 
great  a  matter  of  national  law.     States, 
Grotius  thinks,  have  a  right,  analogous  to 
that  of  individuals  out  of  society,  to  punish 
heinous  offences  against  the  law  of  nature 
or  of  nations,  though  not  affecting  them- 
selves, or  even  any   other   independent 
community.     But  this  is  to  be  done  very 
cautiously,  and  does  not  extend  to  viola- 
tions of  the  positive  divine  law,  or  to  any 
merely  barbarous  and  irrational  customs. 
Wars  undertaken  only  on  this  score  are 
commonly  suspicious.    But  he  goes  on  to 


C.  20. 


t  Id. 


J  Id. 


determine  that  war  may  be  justly  waged 
against  those  who  deny  the  being  and 
providence  of  God,  though  not  against 
idolaters,  much  less  for  the  sake  of  com- 
pelling any  nation  to  embrace  Christianity, 
unless  they  persecute  its  professors,  in 
which  case  they  are  justly  liable  to  pun- 
ishment. He  pronounces  strongly  in 
this  place  against  the  persecution  of  her- 
etics.* 

121.  This  is  the  longest  chapter  in  the 
work  of  Grotius.    Several  of  his  positions, 
as  the  reader  may  probably  have  observed, 
would  not  bear  a  close  scrutiny ;  the  rights 
of  individuals  in  a  state  of  nature,  of  ma- 
gistrates in  civil  society,  and  of  independ- 
ent communities,  are  not  kept  sufficiently 
distinct :  the  equivocal  meaning  of  right, 
as  it  exists  correlatively  between  two  par- 
ties, and  as  it  comprehends  the  general 
obligations  of  moral  law,  is  not  always 
guarded  against.     It  is,  notwithstanding 
these  defects,  a  valuable  commentary,  re- 
gard being  had  to  the  time  when  it  ap- 
peared, on  the  principles  both  of  penal 
jurisprudence  and  of  the  rights  of  war. 

122.  It  has  been  a  great  problem  wheth- 
er the  liability  to  punishment  can  Their  re- 
be  transmitted  from  one  person  sponsibiiuy. 
to  another.    This  may  be  asked  as  to  those 
who  have  been  concerned  in  the  crime 
and  those  who  have  not.     In  the  first  case 
they  are  liable  as  for  their  own  offence,  in 
having  commanded,  connived  at,  permit- 
ted, assisted,  the  actors  in  the  crime  before 
or  after  its  perpetration.     States  are  an- 
swerable  for  the  delinquencies  of  their 
subjects  when  unpunished.    They  are  also 
bound  either  to  punish  or  to  deliver  up 
those  who  take  refuge  within  their  domin- 
ions from  the  justice  of  their  own  country. 
He  seems,  however,  to  admit  afterward, 
that  they  need  only  command  such  per- 
sons to  quit  the  country.     But  they  have 
a  right  to  inquire  into  and  inform  them- 
selves of  the   guilt  alleged,  the   ancient 
privileges  of  suppliants  being  established 
for  the  sake  of  those  who  have  been  un- 
justly persecuted  at  home.    The  practice 
of  modern  Europe,  he  owns,  has  limited 
this  right  of  demanding  the  delivery  or 
punishment  of   refugees    within    narrow 
bounds.     As  to  the  punishment  of  those 
who  have  been  wholly  innocent  of  the  of- 
fence, Grotius  holds  it  universally  unjust, 
but   distinguishes  it   from   indirect   evil, 
which  may  often  fall  on  the  innocent. 
Thus,  when  the  estate  of  a  father  is  con- 
fiscated, his  children  suffer,  but  are  not 
punished ;  since  their  succession  was  only 
a  right  contingent  on  his  possession  at  his 

*  C.  20. 


FROM  1600  TO  1650. 


153 


death.*  It  is  a  consequence  from  this 
principle,  that  a  people,  so  far  subject  to 
its  sovereign  as  to  have  had  no  control 
upon  his  actions,  cannot  justly  incur  pun- 
ishment on  account  of  them. 

123.  After  distinguishing  the  causes  of 
insufficient  war  ulto  pretexts  and  motives, 
causes  of    and  setting  aside  wars  without 
war-          any  assignable   justification    as 
mere  robberies,  he  mentions  several  pre- 
texts which  he  deems  insufficient ;  such 
as  the  aggrandizement  of  a  neighbour;  his 
construction  of  fortresses ;  the  right  of 
discovery,  where  there  is  already  a  pos- 
sessor, however  barbarous  ;  the  necessity 
of  occupying  more  land.      And  here  he 
denies,  both  to  single  men  and  to  a  people, 
the  right  of  taking  up  arms  in  order  to 
recover  their  liberty.     He  laughs  at  the 
pretended  right  of  the  emperor  or  of  the 
pope  to  govern  the  world  ;  and  concludes 
with  a  singular  warning  against  wars  un- 
dertaken upon  any  pretended  explanation 
Duty  of      of  scriptural  prophecies. f   It  will 
Bvoidingit.be  anticipated  from  the  scrupu- 
lousness of  Grotius  in  all  his  casuistry, 
that  he  enjoins  sovereigns  to  abstain  from 
war  in  a  doubtful  cause,  and  to  use  all 
convenient  methods  of  avoiding  it  by  con- 
ference, arbitration,  or  even  by  lot.    Single 
combat  itself,  as  a  mode  of  lot,  he  does 
not  wholly  reject.     In  answer  to  a  ques- 
tion often  put,  Whether  a  war  can  be  just 
on  both  sides  ?  he  replies  that,  in  relation 
to  the  cause  or  subject,  it  cannot  be  so, 
since  there  cannot  be  two  opposite  rights ; 
but  since  men  may  easily  be  deceived  as 
to  the  real  right,  a  war  may  be  just  on 
both  sides  with  respect  to  the  agents.  J  In 
another  part  of  his  work,  he  observes  that 
resistance,  even  where  the  cause  is  not 
originally  just,  may  become  such  by  the 
excess  of  the  other  party. 

124.  The  duty  of  avoiding  war,  even  in 
And  expe-  a  just  cause,  as  long  as  possible, 
diency.      js  mther  part  of  moral  virtue  in 
a  large  sense  than  of  mere  justice.      But, 
besides  the  obligations  imposed  on  us  by 
humanity  and  by  Christian  love,  it  is  often 


*  C.  21,  §  10.  Hence  it  would  follow,  by  the 
principle  of  Grotius,  that  our  law  of  forfeiture  in 
nigh  treason  is  just,  being  part  of  the  direct  punish- 
ment of  the  guilty  ;  hut  that  of  attainder,  or  corrup 
tion  of  blood,  is  unjust,  being  an  infliction  on  the 
innocent  alone.  I  incline  to  concur  ui  this  distinc- 
tion, and  think  it  at  least  plausible,  though  it  was 
seldom  or  never  taken  in  the  discussions  concern- 
ing those  two  laws.  Confiscation  is  no  more  un- 
just towards  the  posterity  of  an  offender  than  fine, 
from  which,  of  course,  it  only  differs  in  degree  :  and, 
on  the  other  hand,  the  law  has  as  much  right  to 
exclude  that  posterity  from  enjoying  property  at  all, 
as  from  enjoying  that  which  descends  from  a  third 
party  through  the  blood,  as  we  call  it,  of  a  criminal 
ancestor.  t  C.  22.  t  C.  23. 

VOL.  II. — U 


expedient  for  our  own  interests  to  avoid 
war.  Of  this,  however,  he  says  little,  it 
being  plainly  a  matter  of  civil  prudence 
with  which  he  has  no  concern.*  Dismiss- 
ing, therefore,  the  subject  of  this  chapter, 
he  comes  to  the  justice  of  wars  under- 
takert  for  the  sake  of  others.  Sovereigns, 
he  conceives,  are  not  bound  to  War  for  lhe 
take  up  arms  in  defence  of  any  sake  of  other 
one  of  their  subjects  who  may  subJecls- 
be  unjustly  treated.  Hence  a  state  may 
abandon  those  whom  it  cannot  protect 
without  great  loss  to  the  rest ;  but  whether 
an  innocent  subject  may  be  delivered  up 
to  an  enemy  is  a  more  debated  question. 
Soto  and  Vasquez,  casuists  of  great  name, 
had  denied  this  ;  Grotius,  however,  deter- 
mines it  affirmatively.  This  seems  a  re- 
markable exception  from  the  general  in- 
flexibility of  his  adherence  to  the  rule  of 
right.  For  on  what  principle  of  strict 
justice  can  a  people,  any  more  than  private 
persons,  sacrifice  or  put  in  jeopardy  the 
life  of  an  innocent  man1?  Grotius  is  in- 
fluenced by  the  supposition  that  the  sub- 
ject ought  voluntarily  to  surrender  him- 
self into  the  hands  of  the  enemy  for  the 
public  good  :  but  no  man  forfeits  his  natu- 
ral rights  by  refusing  to  perform  an  action 
not  of  strict  social  obligation.! 

125.  Next  to  subjects  are  allies,  whom 
the  state  has  bound  itself  to  succour ; 

and  friendly  powers,  though  without  Allies' 
alliance,  may  also  be  protected  from  un- 
just attack.  This  extends  even  to  all 
mankind;  though  war  in  behalf  of 
strangers  is  not  obligatory.  It  is  Sl 
also  lawful  to  deliver  the  subjects  of  others 
from  extreme  manifest  oppression  of  their 
rulers ;  and  though  this  has  often  been  a 
mere  pretext,  we  are  not,  on  that  account, 
to  deny  the  justice  of  an  honest  inter- 
ference. He  even  thinks  the  right  of 
foreign  powers,  in  such  a  case,  more  un- 
equivocal than  that  of  the  oppressed  peo- 
ple themselves.  At  the  close  of  this  chap- 
ter he  protests  strongly  against  those  who 
serve  in  any  cause  for  the  mere  sake  of 
pay,  and  holds  them  worse  than  the  com- 
mon executioner,  who  puts  none  but  crim- 
inals to  death. | 

126.  In  the   twenty-sixth  and  conclu- 
ding chapter  of  this  second  book.  None  ,0 
Grotius  investigates  the  lawful-  serve  in  an 
ness  of  bearing  arms  at  the  com-  u"Jl 
mand  of  superiors,  and  determines  that 
subjects  are  indispensably  bound  not  to 
serve  in  a  war  which  they  conceive  to  be 
clearly  unjust.     He  even  inclines,  though 
admitting  the   prevailing  opinion   to   be 
otherwise,   to  think  that,  in  a  doubtful 


*  C.  24. 


t  C.25. 


JId. 


154 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


cause,  they  should  adhere  to  the  general 
moral  rule  in  case  of  doubt,  and  refuse 
their  personal  service.  This  would  evi- 
dently be  impracticable,  and  ultimately 
subversive  of  political  society.  It,  how- 
ever, denotes  the  extreme  scrupulosity  of 
his  mind.  One  might  smile  at  another 
proof  of  this,  where  he  determines  that 
the  hangman,  before  the  performance  of 
his  duty,  should  satisfy  himself  as  to  the 
justice  of  the  sentence.* 

127.  The  rights  of  war,  that  is,  of  com- 
Righis  in  mencing  hostility,  have  thus  far 
war.         been  investigated  with  a  compre- 
hensiveness that  has  sometimes  almost 
hidden  the  subject.   We  come  now,  in  the 
third  book,  to  rights  in  war.     Whatever 
may  be  clone  in  war  is  permitted  either  by 
the  law  of  nature  or  that  of  nations.   Gro- 
tius  begins  with  the   first.     The   means 
morally,  though  not  physically,  necessary 
to  attain  a  lawful  end  are  themselves  law- 
ful ;  a  proposition  which  he  seems  to  un- 
derstand relatively  to  the  rights  of  others, 
not  to  the  absolute  moral  quality  of  ac- 
tions:  distinctions  which  are  apt  to  em- 
barrass him.    We  have,  therefore,  a  right 
to  employ  force  against  an  enemy,  though 
it  may  be  the  cause  of  suffering  to  inno- 
cent persons.     The  principles  of  natural 
law  authorize  us  to  prevent  neutrals  from 
furnishing  an  enemy  with  the  supplies  of 
war,  or  with  anything  else  essential  for 
his  resistance  to  our  just  demands  of  re- 
dress, such  as  provisions  in  a  state  of 
siege.   And  it  is  remarkable  that  he  refers 
this  latter  question  to  natural  law,  because 
he  had  not  found  any  clear  decision  of  it 
by  the  positive  law  of  nations. f 

128.  In  acting  against  an  enemy,  force 
iT8e  of  is  the  nature  of  war.   But  it  may  be 
deceit,  inquired  whether  deceit  is  not  also 
a  lawful  means  of  success '!    The  practice 
of  nations  and  the  authority  of  most  wri- 
ters seem  to  warrant  it.     Grotius  dilates 
on  different  sorts  of  artifice,  and,  after  ad- 
mitting the  lawfulness  of  such  as  deceive 
by  indications,  comes  to  the  question  of 
words  equivocal  or  wholly  false.     This 
he  first  discusses  on  the  general  moral 
principle  of  veracity,  more  prolixly,  and 
with  more  deference  to  authority,  than 
would   suit  a.  modern  reader ;   yet   this 
basis  is  surely  indispensable  for  the  sup- 
port of  any  decision  in  public  casuistry. 
The  right,  however,  of  employing  false- 
hood towards  an  enemy,  which  he  gen- 
erally admits,  does  not  extend  to  promises, 
which  are  always  to  be  kept,  whether  ex- 
press or  implied,  especially  when  con- 
firmed by  oath.     And  more  greatness  of 


C.26. 


t  L.  iii.,  c.  1. 


nind,  as  well  as  more  Christian  simplicity, 
would  be  shown  by  abstaining  wholly  from 
falsehood  in  war.  The  law  of  nature  does 
lot  permit  us  to  tempt  any  one  to  do  that 
which  in  him  would  be  criminal,  as  to  as- 
sassinate his  sovereign  or  to  betray  his 
rust.  But  we  have  a  right  to  make  use 
of  his  voluntary  offers.* 

129.  Grotius  now  proceeds  from  the 
onsideration  of  natural  law  or  Rules  an(, 

justice  to  that  of  the  general  cus-  customs  of 
,oms  of  mankind,  in  which,  ac-  nauons- 
:ording  to  him,  the  arbitrary  law  of  na- 
vions  consists.  By  this,  in  the  first 
jlace,  though  naturally  no  one  is  l'pri!>a  * 
answerable  for  another,  it  has  been  estab- 
ished  that  the  property  of  every  citizen 
s,  as  it  were,  mortgaged  for  the  liabilities 
of  the  state  to  which  he  belongs.  Hence, 
if  justice  is  refused  us  by  the  sovereign, 
we  have  a  right  to  indemnification  out  of 
he  property  of  his  subjects.  This  is  com- 
monly called  reprisals ;  and  it  is  a  right 
which  every  private  person  would  enjoy, 
were  it  not  for  the  civil  laws  of  most 
ountries,  which  compel  him  to  obtain  the 
authorization  of  his  own  sovereign  or  of 
some  tribunal.  By  an  analogous  right,  the 
ubjects  of  a  foreign  state  have  sometimes 
aeen  seized  in  return  for  one  of  our  own 
subjects  unjustly  detained  by  their  govern- 
ment.! 

130.  A  regular  war,  by  the  law  of  na- 
tions, can  only  be  waged  between  Declarations 
political    communities.     Wher-°fwar. 
ever  there  is  a  semblance  of  civil  justice 
and  fixed  law,  such  a  community  exists, 
however  violent  may  be  its  actions.     But 
a  body  of  pirates  or  robbers  are  not  one. 
Absolute  independence,  however,  is  not 
required  for  the  right  of  war.     A  formal 
declaration  of  war,  though  not  necessary 
by  the  law  of  nature,  has  been  rendered 
such  by  the  usage   of  civilized  nations. 
But  it  is  required,  even  by  the  former,  that 
we  should  demand  reparation  for  an  injury 
before  we  seek  redress  by  force.    A  decla- 
ration of  war  may  be  conditional  or  abso- 
lute ;  and  it  has  been  established  as  a  rati- 
fication of  regular  hostilities,  that  they 
may  not  be  confounded  with  the  unwar- 
ranted acts  of  private  men.     No  interval 
of  time  is  required  for  their  commence- 
ment after  declaration-! 

131.  All  is  lawful  during  war,  in  one 
sense  of  the  word,  which  by  the 

,  ,.  '     ,.  •      j-       Rights  tiy 

law  and  usage  of  nations  is  dis-  lawofna- 
punishable.     And  this,  in  formal  ^ons  over 
hostilities,  is  as  much  the  right  of  el 
one  side  as  of  the  other.    The  subjects  of 
our  enemy,  whether  active  on  his  side  or 


*  L.  iii.,  c.  1. 


fC.2. 


{C.  3. 


FROM  1GOO  TO  1650. 


155 


not,  become  liable  to  these  extreme  rights 
of  slaughter  and  pillage  ;  but  it  seems  that, 
according  to  the  law  of  nations,  strangers 
should  be  exempted  from  them,  unless,  by 
remaining  in  the  country,  they  serve  his 
cause.  Women,  children,  and  prisoners 
may  be  put  to  death ;  quarter  or  capitula- 
tion for  life  refused.  On  the  other  hand, 
if  the  law  of  nations  is  less  strict  in  this 
respect  than  that  of  nature,  it  forbids  some 
things  which  naturally  might  be  allowable 
means  of  defence,  as  the  poisoning  an 
enemy,  or  the  wells  from  which  he  is  to 
drink.  But  the  assassination  of  an  enemy 
is  not  contrary  to  the  law  of  nations  un- 
less by  means  of  traitors,  and  even  this  is 
held  allowable  against  a  rebel  or  robber, 
who  are  not  protected  by  the  rules  of  for- 
mal war.  But  the  violation  of  women  is 
contrary  to  the  law  of  nations.*  The 
rights  of  war  with  respect  to  enemies' 
property  are  unlimited,  without  exception 
even  of  churches  or  sepulchral  monu- 
ments, sparing  always  the  bodies  of  the 
dead.f 

132.  By  the  law  of  nature,  Grotius  thinks 
we  acquire  a  property  in  as  much  of  the 
spoil  as  is  sufficient  to  indemnify  us  and 
to  punish  the  aggressor.     But  the  law  of 
nations    carries   this   much  farther,   and 
gives  an  unlimited  property  in  all  that  has 
been  acquired  by  conquest,  which  mankind 
are  bound  to  respect.     This  right  com- 
mences as  soon  as  the  enemy  has  lost  all 
chance  of  recovering  his  losses  ;  which  is, 
in  moveables,  as  soon  as  they  are  in  a 
place  within  our  sole  power.     The  trans- 
fer of  property  in  territories  is  not   so 
speedy.     The  goods  of  neutrals  are  not 
thus  transferred  when  found  in  the  cities 
or  on  board  the  vessels  of  an  enemy. 
Whether  the  spoil  belongs  to  the  captors 
or  to  their  sovereign,  is  so  disputed  a  ques- 
tion, that  it  can  hardly  be  reckoned  a  part 
of  that  law  of  nations,  or  universal  usage, 
with  which   Grotius  is  here   concerned. 
He  thinks,  however,  that  what  is  taken  in 
public  enterprises  appertains  to  the  state  ; 
and  that  this  has  been  the  general  practice 
of  mankind.     The  civil  laws  of  each  peo- 
ple may  modify  this,  and  have  frequently 
done  so.J 

133.  Prisoners,  by  the  law  of  nations, 
Prisoners  be-  become   slaves  of  the  captor, 
come  slaves.  an(j  their  posterity  also.     He 
may  treat  them  as  he  pleases  with  im- 
punity.   This  has  been  established  by  the 
custom  of  mankind,  in  order  that  the  con- 
queror might  be  induced  to  spare  the  lives 
of  the  vanquished.   Some  theologians  deny 
the  slave,  even  when  taken  in  an  unjust 


*  C.  4. 


f  C.  5. 


C.  6. 


war,  the  right  of  making  his  escape,  from 
whom  Grotius  dissents.  But  he  has  not 
a  right,  in  conscience,  to  resist  the  ex- 
ercise of  his  master's  authority.  This  law 
of  nations,  as  to  the  slavery  of  prisoners, 
as  he  admits,  has  not  been  universally 
received,  and  is  now  abolished  in  Christian 
countries  out  of  respect  to  religion.*  But, 
strictly,  as  an  individual  may  be  reduced 
into  slavery,  so  may  a  whole  conquered 
people.  It  is,  of  course,  at  the  discretion 
of  the  conqueror  to  remit  a  portion  of  his 
right,  and  to  leave  as  much  of  their  liber- 
ties and  possessions  untouched  as  he 
pleases. f 

134.  The  next  chapter  relates  to  the 
right  of  postliminium;  one  de-  Right  of  post- 
pending  so  much  on  the  pecu-  limmium. 
liar  fictions  of  the  Roman  jurists,  that  it 
seems  strange  to  discuss  it  as  part  of  a 
universal  law  of  nations  at  all.    Nor  does 
it  properly  belong  to  the  rights  of  war, 
which  are  between  belligerant  parties.    It 
is  certainly  consonant  to  natural  justice, 
that   a  citizen  returning  from  captivity 
should  be  fully  restored  to  every  privilege 
and  all  property  that  he  had  enjoyed  at 
home.     In  modern  Europe  there  is  little 
to  which  the  jus  postliminii  can  even  by 
analogy  be  applied.     It  has  been  deter- 
mined, in  courts  of  admiralty,  that  vessels 
recaptured  after  a  short  time  do  not  revert 
to  their  owner.     This  chapter  must  be 
reckoned  rather  episodical.J 

135.  We  have  thus  far  looked  only  at 
the  exterior  right  accorded  by  the  Moral 
law  of  nations  to  all  who  wage  jetton  of" 
regular  hostilities  in  a  just  or  un-  "Sht!»  in 
just  quarrel.    This  right  is  one  of  wan 
impunity  alone ;  but  before  our  own  con- 
science, or  the  tribunal  of  moral  approba- 
tion in  mankind,   many  things  hitherto 
spoken  of  as  lawful  must  be  condemned. 
In  the  first,  place,  an  unjust  war  renders 
all  acts  of  force  committed  in  its  prose- 
cution unjust,  and  binds  the  aggressor  be- 
fore God  to  reparation.     Every  one,  gen- 
eral or  soldier,  is  responsible  in  such  cases 
for  the  wrong  he  has  commanded  or  per- 
petrated.    Nor  can  any  one  knowingly 
retain  the  property  of  another  obtained  by 
such  a  war,  though  he  should  come  to  the 
possession  of  it  with  good  faith. $    And 
as  nothing  can  be  done,  consistently  with 
moral  justice,  in  an  unjust  war,  so,  how- 
ever legitimate  our  ground  for  hostilities 
may  be,  we  are  not  at  liberty  to  transgress 
the  boundaries  of  equity  and  humanity. 
In  this  chapter,  Grotius,  after  dilating  with 
a  charitable  abundance  of  examples  and 
authorities  in  favour  of  clemency  in  war, 


*  C.7. 


f  C.  8. 


C.  9. 


C.  10 


156 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


even  towards  those  who  have  been  most 
guilty  in  provoking  it,  specially  indicates 
women,  old  men,  and  children  as  always 
to  be  spared,  extending  this  also  to  all 
whose  occupations  are  not  military.  Pris- 
oners are  not  to  be  put  to  death,  nor  are 
towns  to  be  refused  terms  of  capitulation. 
He  denies  that  the  law  of  retaliation,  or 
the  necessity  of  striking  terror,  or  the  ob- 
stinate resistance  of  an  enemy,  dispense 
with  the  obligation  of  saving  his  life.  No- 
thing but  some  personal  crime  can  warrant 
the  refusal  of  quarter  or  the  death  of  a 
prisoner.  Nor  is  it  allowable  to  put  hos- 
tages to  death.* 

136.  All  unnecessary  devastation  ought 

Moderation  to  be  avoided,  SUch  as  the  de- 
required  as  struction  of  trees,  of  houses,  es- 
to  spoil,  pecially  ornamental  and  public 
buildings,  and  of  everything  not  service- 
able in  war,  nor  tending  to  prolong  it,  as 
pictures  and  statues.  Temples  and  sep- 
ulchres are  to  be  spared  for  the  same  or 
even  stronger  reasons.  Though  it  is  not 
the  object  of  Grotius  to  lay  down  any  po- 
litical maxims,  he  cannot  refrain  in  this 
place  from  pointing  out  several  consider- 
ations of  expediency  which  should  induce 
us  to  restrain  the  license  of  arms  within 
the  limits  of  natural  law.f  There  is  no 
right  by  nature  to  more  booty,  strictly 
speaking,  than  is  sufficient  for  our  indem- 
nity, wherein  are  included  the  expenses 
of  the  war.  And  the  property  of  innocent 
persons,  being  subjects  of  our  enemies,  is 
only  liable  in  failure  of  those  who  are 
primarily  aggressors.^ 

137.  The  persons  of  prisoners  are  only 
And  as  to  liable,  in  strict  moral  justice,  so 
prisoners.  far  as  js  required  for  satisfaction 
of  our  injury.     The  slavery  into  which 
they  may  be  reduced  ought  not  to  extend 
farther  than  an   obligation  of  perpetual 
servitude  in  return  for  maintenance.     The 
power  over  slaves  by  the  law  of  nature  is 
far  short  of  what  the  arbitrary  law  of  na- 
tions permits,  and  does  not  give  a  right 
of  exacting  too  severe  labour,  or  of  inflict- 
ing punishment  beyond  desert.     The  pe- 
c^ulium,  or  private  acquisitions  of  a  slave 
by  economy  or  donation,  ought  to  be  reck- 
oned his  property.     Slaves,  however,  cap- 
tured in  a  just  war,  though  one  in  which 
they  have  had  no  concern,  are  not  war- 
ranted in  conscience  to  escape  and  recov- 
er their  liberty.     But  the  children  of  such 
slaves  are  not  in  servitude  by  the  law  of 
nature,  except  so  far  as  they  have  been 
obliged  to  their  master  for  subsistence  in 
infancy.     With  respect  to  prisoners,  the 
better  course  is  to  let  them  redeem  them- 


•  C.  ll. 


t  C.  12. 


t  C.  13. 


selves  by  a  ransom,  which  ought  to  be 
moderate.* 

138.  The  acquisition  of  that  sovereignty 
which  was  enjoyed  by  a  conquer-  Also  in 
ed  people  or  by  their  rulers  is  not  con<iue<*« 
only  legitimate,  so  far  as  is  warranted  by 
the  punishment  they  have  deserved  or  by 
the  value  of  our  own  loss,  but  also  so  far 
as  the  necessity  of  securing  ourselves  ex- 
tends.    This  last  is  what  it  is  often  unsafe 
to  remit  out  of  clemency.     It  is  a  part  of 
moderation  in  victory  to  incorporate  the 
conquered  with  our  own  citizens  on  equal 
terms,  or  to  leave  their  independence  on 
reasonable  precautions  for  our  own  secu- 
rity.    If  this  cannot  be  wholly  conceded, 
their  civil  laws  and  municipal  magistra- 
cies may  be  preserved,  and,  above  all,  the 
free  exercise  of  their  religion.     The  inter- 
ests of  conquero/s  are  as  much  consulted, 
generally,  as  their   reputation,  by   such 
lenient  use  of  their  advantages. f 

139.  It  is  consonant  to  natural  justice 
that  we  should  restore  to  the  Anij  in  restj. 
original  owners  all  of  which  tution  torighi 
they  have  been  despoiled  in  an  owner8' 
unjust  war,  when  it  falls  into  our  hands 
by  a  lawful  conquest,  without  regard  to 
the  usual  limits  of  postliminium.     Thus, 
if  an  ambitious  state  comes  to  be  stripped 
of  its  usurpations,  this  should  be,  not  for 
the  benefit  of  the  conqueror,  but  of  the  an- 
cient possessors.     Length  of  time,  how- 
ever, will  raise  the  presumption  of  aban- 
donment. J     Nothing  should  be  taken  in 
war  from  neutral  states,  except  through 
necessity  and  with  compensation.      The 
most  ordinary  case  is  that  of  the  passage 
of  troops.     The  neutral  is  bound  to  strict 
impartiality  in  a  war  of  doubtful  justice. $ 
But  it  seems  to  be  the  opinion  of  Grotius, 
that  by  the  law  of  nature,  every  one,  even 
a  private  man,  may  act  in  favour  of  the 
innocent  party  as  far  as  the  rights  of  war 
extend,  except  that  he  cannot  appropriate 
to  himself  the  possessions  of  the  enemy  ; 
that  right  being  one  founded  on  indemni- 
fication.    But  civil  and  military  laws  have 
generally  restrained  this  to  such  as  obey 
the  express  order  of  their  government.  || 

140.  The  license  of  war  is  restrained 
either  by  the  laws  of  nature  and  promises  to 
nations,  which   have   been   al-  enemies  and 
ready  discussed,  or  by  particu-  P'rates- 
lar  engagement.     The  obligation  of  prom- 
ises  extends  to  enemies,  who   are  still 
parts  of  the   great  society  of  mankind 
Faith  is  to  be  kept  even  with  tyrants,  rob- 
bers, and  pirates.     He  here  again  adverts 
to  the  case  of  a  promise  made  under  an 
unjust  compulsion ;  and  possibly  his  rea- 


«  C.  14.     f  C.  15.     }  C.  16.     6  C.  17.     ||  C.  ]9. 


FROM  1600  TO  1650. 


157 


soning  on  the  general  principle  is  not  quite 
put  in  the  most  satisfactory  manner.     It 
would  now  be  argued  that  the  violation  o: 
engagements  towards  the  worst  of  man- 
kind, who  must  be  supposed  to  have  some 
means  of  self-defence,  on  account  of  which 
we  propose  to  treat  with  them,  would  pro- 
duce a  desperation  among  men  in  similar 
circumstances  injurious  to  society.     Or  it 
might  be  urged  that  men  do  not  lose  by 
their  crimes  a  right  to  the  performance  ol 
all  engagements,  especially    when   they 
have  fulfilled  their  own  share  in  them,  but 
only  of  such  as  involve  a  positive  injus- 
tice towards  the  other  party.    In  this  place 
he  repeats  his  former  doctrine,  that  the 
most   invalid  promise   may  be  rendered 
binding  by  the  addition  of  an  oath.     It  fol- 
lows, from  the  general  rule,  that  a  prince 
is  bound  by  his  engagements  to  rebel  sub- 
jects ;  above  all,  if  they  have  had  the  pre- 
caution to  exact  his  oath.     And  thus  a 
change  in  the  constitution  of  a  monarchy 
may  legitimately  take  place;  and  it  may 
become  mixed  instead  of  absolute  by  the 
irrevocable  concession  of  the  sovereign. 
The  rule  that  promises  made  under  an 
unjust  compulsion  are  not  obligatory,  has 
no  application  in  a  public  and  regular  war.* 
Barbeyrac  remarks  on  this,  that  if  a  con- 
queror, like  Alexander,  subdues  an  unof- 
fending people  with  no  specious  pretext 
at  all,  he  does  not  perceive    why  they 
should  be  more  bound  in  conscience  to 
keep  the  promises  of  obedience  they  may 
have  been  compelled   to  enter  into  than 
if  he  had  been  an  ordinary  bandit.     And 
this  remark  shows  us  that  the  celebrated 
problem  in  casuistry,  as  to  the  obligation 
of  compulsory  promises,  has  far  more  im- 
portant consequences  than  the  payment 
of  a  petty  sum  to  a  robber.     In  two  cases, 
however,  Grotius  holds  that  we  are  dis- 
pensed from  keeping  an  engagement  to- 
wards an  enemy.     One  of  these  is,  when 
it  has  been  conditional,  and  the  other  par- 
ty has  not  fulfilled  his  part  of  the  conven- 
tion.    This  is,  of  course,  obvious,  and  can 
only  be  open  to  questions  as  to  the  pre- 
cedence of  the  condition.     The  other  case 
is  where  we  retain  what  is  due  to  us  by 
way   of   compensation,   notwithstanding 
our  promise.     This  is  permissible  in  cer- 
tain instances.! 

141.  The  obligation  of  treaties  of  peace 
depends  on  their  being  concluded  by  the 
authority  which,  according  to  the  consti- 


*  C.  19,  $11.  There  seems,  as  has  been  intima- 
ted above,  to  be  some  inconsistency  in  the  doctrine 
of  Grotius  with  respect  to  the  general  obligation  of 
such  promises,  which  he  maintains  in  the  second 
book  ;  and  now,  as  far  as  I  collect  his  meaning,  de- 
nies by  implication.  t  C.  19. 


tution  of  the  state,  is  sover-  TreatiM 
eign  for  this  purpose.  Kings  eluded  by 
who  do  not  possess  a  patrimo-  c°mpeient 
nial  sovereignty  cannot  alien-  a' 
ate  any  part  of  their  dominions  without  the 
consent  of  the  nation  or  its  representa- 
tives ;  they  must  even  have  the  consent 
of  the  city  or  province  which  is  thus  to  be 
transferred.  In  patrimonial  kingdoms, 
the  sovereign  may  alienate  the  whole,  but 
not  always  a  part,  at  pleasure.  He  seems, 
however,  to  admit  an  ultimate  right  of 
sovereignty,  or  dominium  eminens,  by 
which  all  states  may  dispose  of  the  prop- 
erty of  their  subjects,  and,  consequently, 
alienate  it  for  the  sake  of  a  great  advan- 
tage, but.  subject  to  the  obligation  of  grant- 
ing them  an  indemnity.  He  even  holds 
that  the  community  is  naturally  bound  to 
indemnify  private  subjects  for  the  losses 
they  sustain  in  war,  though  this  right  of 
reparation  may  be  taken  away  by  civil 
laws.  The  right  of  alienation  by  a  treaty 
of  peace  is  only  questionable  between  the 
sovereign  and  his  subjects  ;  foreign  states 
may  presume  its  validity  in  their  own  fa- 
vour.* 

142.  Treaties   of  peace   are   generally 
founded  on  one  of  two  principles :  Matters 
that  the  parties  shall  return  to  the  reiatin? 
condition  wherein  they  were  before  to  them- 
the  commencement  of  hostilities,  or  that 
they  shall   retain  what  they  possess  at 
their  conclusion.     The  last  is  to  be  pre- 
sumed in  a  case  of  doubtful  interpretation. 
A  treaty  of  peace  extinguishes  all  public 
grounds  of  quarrel,  whether  known  to  ex- 
ist or  not,  but  does  not  put  an  end  to  the 
claims  of  private  men  subsisting  before 
the  war,  the  extinguishment  of  which  is 
never  to  be  presumed.     The  other  rules 
of  interpretation  which  he  lays  down  are, 
as  usual  with  him,  derived  rather  from 
natural  equity  than  the  practice  of  man- 
kind, though  with  no  neglect  or  scorn  of 
the  latter.     He  maintains  the  right  of  giv- 
ing an  asylum  to  the  banished,  but  not  of 
receiving  large  bodies  of  men  who  aban- 
don their  country.f 

143.  The  decision  of  lot  may  be  adopt- 
ed in  some  cases,  in  order  to  avoid  a  war 
wherein  we  have  little  chance  of  resisting 
an  enemy.     But  that  of  single   combat, 
according  to  Grotius's  opinion,  though  not 
repugnant  to  the  law  of  nature,  is  incom- 
patible with  Christianity ;  unless  in  the 

e  where  a  party  unjustly  assailed  has 
no  other  means  of  defence.  Arbitration 

a  neutral  power  is  another  method  of 
settling  differences,  and  in  this  we  are 
bound  to  acquiesce.  Wars  may  also  be 


*  C.  20. 


159 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


terminated  by  implicit  submission  or  by 
capitulation.  The  rights  this  gives  him 
have  been  already  discussed.  He  con- 
cludes this  chapter  with  a  few  observa- 
tions upon  hostages  and  pledges.  With 
respect  to  the  latter,  he  holds  that  they 
may  be  reclaimed  after  any  lapse  of  time, 
unless  there  is  a  presumption  of  tacit 
abandonment.* 

144.  _  A  truce  is  an  interval  of  war,  and 
Truces  and  does  not  require  a  fresh  declara- 
conventions.  tion  at  its  close.    No  act  of  hos- 
tility is  lawful  during  its  continuance  ;  the 
infringement  of  this  rule  by  either  party 
gives  the  other  a  right  to  take  up  arms 
without  delay.     Safe  conducts  are  to  be 
construed  liberally,  rejecting  every  mean- 
ing of  the  words  which  does  not  reach 
their  spirit.    Thus  a  safe  conduct  to  go  to 
a  place  implies  the  right  of  returning  un- 
molested.  The  ransom  of  prisoners  ought 
to  be  favoured.f    A  state  is  bound  by  the 
conventions  in  war  made  by  its  officers, 
provided  they  are  such  as  may  reasonably 
be  presumed  to  lie  within  their  delegated 
authority,  or  such  as  they  have  a  special 
commission   to  warrant,  known  to   the 
other  contracting  party.     A  state  is  also 
bound  by  its  tacit  ratification  in  permitting 
the  execution  of  any  part  of  such  a  treaty, 
though  in  itself  not  obligatory,  and  also 
by  availing  itself  of  any  advantage  thereby. 
Grotius  dwells  afterward  on  many  distinc- 
tions relating  to  this  subject,  which,  how- 
ever, as  far  as  they  do  hot  resolve  them- 
selves into  the  general  principle,  are  to  be 
considered  on  the  ground  of  positive  regu- 
lation. | 

145.  Private  persons,  whether  bearing 
Those  ofpri-  arms  or  not,  are  as  much  bound 
vate  persons.  as  their  superiors  by  the  engage- 
ments they  contract  with  an  enemy.   This 
applies  particularly  to  the  parole  of  a  pris- 
oner.  The  engagement  not  to  serve  again, 
though  it  has  been  held  null  by  some  jurists, 
as  contrary  to  our  obligation  towards  our 
country,  is  valid.    It  has  been  a  question 
whether  the  state  ought  to   compel  its 
citizens  to  keep  their  word  towards  the 
enemy.     The   better   opinion   is  that  it 
should  do  so ;  and  this  has  been  the  prac- 
tice of  the  most  civilized  nations. $  Those 
wjio  put  themselves  under  the  protection 
of  a  state  engage  to  do  nothing  hostile 
towards  it.     Hence  such  actions  as  that 
of  Zopyrus,  who  betrayed  Babylon  under 
the  guise  of  a  refugee,  are  not  excusable. 
Several  sorts  of  tacit  engagements  are  es- 
tablished by  the  usage  of  nations,  as  that 
of  raising  a  white  flag  in  token  of  a  desire 
to  suspend  arms.    These  are  exceptions 


[  from  the  general  rule  which  authorizes 
i  deceit  in  war.*  In  the  concluding  chapter 
of  the  whole  treatise  Grotius  briefly  ex- 
horts all  states  to  preserve  good  faith  and 
to  seek  peace  at  all  times,  upon  the  mild 
principles  of  Christianity.! 

146.  If  the  reader  has  had  the  patience 
to  make  his  way  through  the  ab-  objection* 
stract  of  Grotius,  De  Jure  Belli,  ^^"* 
that  we  have  placed  before  him,  ™aa]Cy  uyn. 
he  will  be  fully  prepared  to  judge  reasonable. 
of  the  criticisms  made  upon  this  treatise 
by  Paley  and   Dugald    Stewart.     "The 
writings  of  Grotius  and  Puffendorf,"  says 
the  former,  "  are  of  too  forensic  a  cast, 
too  much  mixed  up  with  civil  law  and 
with  the  jurisprudence  of  Germany,  to 
answer  precisely  the  design  of  a  system 
of  ethics,  the  direction  of  private  con- . 
sciences  in  the  general  conduct  of  human 
life."    But  it  was  not  the  intention  of 
Grotius  (we  are  not  at  present  concerned 
with  Puffendorf)  to  furnish  a  system  of 
ethics,  nor  did  any  one  ever  hold  forth 
his  treatise  in  this  light.    Upon  some  most 
important  branches   of  morality  he  has 
certainly  dwelt  so  fully  as  to  answer  the 
purpose   of  "  directing  the   private   con- 
science in  the  conduct  of  life."   The  great 
aim,  however,  of  his  inquiries  was  to  as- 
certain the  principles  of  natural  right  ap- 
plicable to  independent  communities. 

147.  Paley,  it  must  be  owned,  has  a 
more  specious  ground  of  accusation  in  his 
next  charge  against  Grotius  for  the  pro- 
fusion of  classical  quotations.     "  To  any- 
thing more  than  ornament  they  can  make 
no  claim.     To  propose  them  as  serious 
arguments,  gravely  to  attempt  to  establish 
or  fortify  a  moral  duty  by  the  testimony 
of  a  Greek  or  Roman  poet,  is  to  trifle  with 
the  reader,  or,  rather,  take  off  his  attention 
from  all  just  principles  in  morals." 

148.  A  late  eminent  writer  has  answer- 
ed this  from  the  text  of  Grotius,  Reply  of 
but  in  more  eloquent  language  Mackintosh, 
than  Grotius  could  have  employed.   "  An- 
other answer,"  says  Mackintosh,  "  is  due 
to  some  of  those  who  have  criticised  Gro- 
tius, and  that  answer  might  be  given  in 
the  words  of  Grotius  himself.     He  was 
not  of  such  a  stupid  and  servile  cast  of 
mind  as  to  quote  the  opinions  of  poets  or 
orators,  of  historians  and  philosophers,  as 
those  of  judges  from  whose  decision  there 
was  no  appeal.     He  quotes  them,  as  he 
tells  us  himself,  as  witnesses,  whose  con- 
spiring testimony,  mightily  strengthened 
and  confirmed  by  their  discordance  on  al- 
most every  other  subject,  is  a  conclusive 
proof  of  the  unanimity  of  the  whole  hu- 


*  C.  20.        f  C.  21. 


C.  22. 


C.  23. 


*  C.  24. 


1  C.  25. 


FROM  1600  TO  1650. 


159 


man  race  on  the  great  rules  of  duty  and 
the  fundamental  principles  of  morals.  On 
such  matters,  poets  and  orators  are  the 
most  unexceptionable  of  all  witnesses ; 
for  they  address  themselves  to  the  gen- 
eral feelings  and  sympathies  of  mankind ; 
they  are  neither  warped  by  system  nor 
perverted  by  sophistry;  they  can  attain 
none  of  their  objects,  they  can  neither 
please  nor  persuade,  if  they  dwell  on  moral 
sentiments  not  in  unison  with  those  of 
their  readers.  No  system  of  moral  phi- 
losophy can  surely  disregard  the  general 
feelings  of  human  nature  and  the  accord- 
ing judgment  of  all  ages  and  nations.  But 
where  are  these  feelings  and  that  judg- 
ment recorded  and  preserved]  In  those 
very  writings  which  Grotius  is  gravely 
blamed  for  having  quoted.  The  usages 
and  laws  of  nations,  the  events  of  history, 
the  opinions  of  philosophers,  the  senti- 
ments of  orators  and  poets,  as  well  as  the 
observation  of  common  life,  are,  in  truth, 
the  materials  out  of  which  the  science  of 
morality  is  formed  ;  and  those  who  neglect 
them  are  justly  chargeable  with  a  vain 
attempt  to  philosophize  without  regard  to 
fact  and  experience,  the  sole  foundation 
of  all  true  philosophy."* 

149.  The  passage  in  Grotius  which  has 
suggested  this  noble  defence  will  be  found 
above.    It  will  be  seen,  on  reference  to  it, 
that  he  proposes  to  quote  the  poets  and 
orators  cautiously,  and  rather  as  ornament- 
al than  authoritative  supports  of  his  argu- 
ment.    In  no  one  instance,  I  believe,  will 
he  be  found  to  "  enforce  a  moral  duty,"  as 
Paley  imagines,  by  their  sanction.     It  is, 
nevertheless,  to  be  fairly  acknowledged, 
that  he  has  sometimes  gone  a  good  deal 
farther  than  the  rules  of  a  pure  taste  allow 
in  accumulating  quotations  from  the  poets, 
and  that,  in  an  age  so  impatient  of  prolixi- 
ty as  the  last,  this  has  stood  much  in  the 
way  of  the  general  reader. 

150.  But  these  criticisms  of  Paley  con- 
rensures  Of  tain    very    trifling   censure    in 
Stewart.       comparison  with  the  unbounded 
scorn  poured  on  Grotius  by  Dugald  Stew- 
art, in  his  first  Dissertation  on  the  Progress 
of  Philosophy.     I  have  never  read  these 
pages  of  an  author  whom  I  had,  unfortu- 
nately, not  the  opportunity  of  personally 
knowing,  but  whose  researches  have  con- 
tributed so  much  to  the  delight  and  advan- 
tage of  mankind,  without  pain  and  sur- 
prise.    It  would  be  too  much  to  say  that, 
in  several  parts  of  this  Dissertation,  by  no 
means  in  the  first  class  of  Stewart's  wri- 
tings, other  proofs  of  precipitate  judgment 


*  Mackintosh,  Discourse  on  the  Study  of  the  Law 
of  Nature  and  Nations,  p.  23  (edit.  1823). 


do  not  occur;  but  that  he  should  have 
spoken  of  a  work  so  distinguished  by 
fame,  and  so  effective,  as  he  himself  ad- 
mits, over  the  public  mind  of  Europe,  in 
terms  of  unmingled  depreciation,  without 
having  done  more  than  glanced  at  some 
of  its  pages,  is  an  extraordinary  symptom 
of  that  tendency  towards  prejudices,  hasty 
but  inveterate,  of  which  this  eminent  man 
seems  to  have  been  not  a  little  suscepti- 
ble. The  attack  made  by  Stewart  on 
those  who  have  taken  the  law  of  nature 
and  nations  as  their  theme,  and  especially 
on  Grotius,  who  stands  forward  in  that 
list,  is  protracted  for  several  pages,  and  it 
would  be  tedious  to  examine  every  sen- 
tence in  succession.  Were  I  to  do  so,  it 
is  not,  in  my  opinion,  an  exaggeration  to 
say  that  almost  every  successive  sentence 
would  lie  open  to  criticism.  But  let  us 
take  the  chief  heads  of  accusation. 

151.  "  Grotius,"  we  are  told,  "  under  the 
title  De  Jure  Belli  ac  Pacis,  has  Answer  to 
aimed  at  a  complete  system  of  them- 
natural  law.  Condillac  says  that  he  chose 
the  title  in  order  to  excite  a  more  general 
curiosity/'  The  total  erroneousness  of 
this  passage  must  appear  to  every  one 
who  has  seen  what  Grotius  declares  to 
have  been  his  primary  object.  He  chose 
the  title  because  it  came  nearest  to  ex- 
press that  object — the  ascertainment  of 
laws  binding  on  independent  communities 
in  their  mutual  relations,  whether  of  war 
or  peace.  But  as  it  was  not  possible  to 
lay  down  any  solid  principles  of  interna- 
tional right  till  the  notions  of  right,  of 
sovereignty,  of  dominion  over  things  and 
persons,  of  war  itself,  were  clearly  estab- 
lished, it  became  indispensable  to  build 
upon  a  more  extensive  basis  than  later 
writers  on  the  law  of  nations,  who  found 
the  labour  performed  to  their  hands,  have 
thought  necessary.  All  ethical  philoso- 
phy, even  in  those  parts  which  bear  a 
near  relation  to  jurisprudence  and  to  in- 
ternational law,  was,  in  the  age  of  Gro- 
tius, a  chaos  of  incoherent  and  arbitrary 
notions,  brought  in  from  various  sources, 
from  the  ancient  schools,  from  the  scrip- 
tures, the  fathers,  the  canons,  the  casuis- 
tical theologians,  the  rabbins,  the  jurists, 
as  well  as  from  the  practice  and  senti- 
ments of  every  civilized  nation,  past  and 
present,  the  Jews,  the  Greeks  and  Romans, 
the  trading  republics,  the  chivalrous  king- 
doms of  modern  Europe.  If  Grotius  has 
not  wholly  disentangled  himself  from  this 
bewildering  maze,  through  which  he  pain- 
fully traces  his  way  by  the  lights  of  rea- 
son and  revelation,  he  has  at  least  cleared 
up  much,  and  put  others  still  oftener  in 
the  right  path  where  he  has  not  been  able 


160 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


to  follow  it.  Condillac,  as  here  quoted  by 
Stewart,  has  anticipated  Paley's  charge 
against  Grotius,  of  labouring  to  support 
his  conclusions  by  the  authority  of  others, 
and  of  producing  a  long  string  of  quota- 
tions to  prove  the  most  indubitable  propo- 
sitions. In  what  degree  this  very  exag- 
gerated remark  is  true  we  have  already 
seen.  But  it  should  be  kept  in  mind,  that 
neither  the  disposition  of  the  age  in  which 
Grotius  lived,  nor  the  real  necessity  of  il- 
lustrating every  part  of  his  inquiries  by 
the  precedent  usages  of  mankind,  would 
permit  him  to  treat  of  moral  philosophy 
as  of  the  abstract  theorems  of  geometry. 
If  his  erudition  has  sometimes  obstructed 
or  misled  him,  which,  perhaps,  has  not  so 
frequently  happened  as  these  critics  as- 
sume, it  is  still  true  that  a  contemptuous 
ignorance  of  what  has  been  done  or  has 
been  taught,  such  as  belonged  to  the 
school  of  Condillac  and  to  that  of  Paley, 
does  not  very  well  qualify  the  moral  phi- 
losopher for  inquiry  into  the  principles 
which  are  to  regulate  human  nature. 

152.  "  Among  the  different  ideas,"  Stew- 
art observes,  "  which  have  been  formed  of 
natural  jurisprudence,  one  of  the  most 
common,  especially  in  the  earlier  sys- 
tems, supposes  its  object  to  be,  to  lay 
down  those  rules  of  justice  which  would 
be  binding  on  men  living  in  a  social  state 
without  any  positive  institutions  ;  or,  as  it 
is  frequently  called  by  writers  on  this 
subject,  living  together  in  a  state  of  na- 
ture. This  idea  of  the  province  of  juris- 
prudence seems  to  have  been  uppermost 
in  the  mind  of  Grotius  in  various  parts  of 
his  treatise."  After  some  conjectures  on 
the  motives  which  led  the  early  writers 
to  take  this  view  of  national  law,  and  ad- 
mitting that  the  rules  of  justice  are  in 
every  case  precise  and  indispensable,  and 
that  their  authority  is  altogether  independ- 
ent of  that  of  the  civil  magistrate,  he 
deems  it "  obviously  absurd  to  spend  much 
time  in  speculating  about  the  principles 
of  this  natural  law,  as  applicable  to  men 
before  the  institution  of  governments." 
1 1  may  possibly  be  as  absurd  as  he  thinks 
it.  But  where  has  Grotius  shown  that 
this  condition  of  natural  society  was  up- 
permost in  his  thoughts'?  Of  the  state  of 
nature,  as  it  existed  among  individuals 
before  the  foundation  of  civil  institutions, 
he  says  no  more  than  was  requisite  in 
order  to  exhibit  the  origin  of  those  rights 
which  spring  from  property  .and  govern- 
ment. But  that  he  has,  in  some  part  es- 
pecially of  his  second  book,  dwelt  upon 
rules  of  justice  binding  on  men  subsequent 
to  the  institution  of  property,  but  inde- 
pendently of  positive  laws,  is  most  cer- 


tain ;  nor  is  it  possible  for  any  one  to  do 
otherwise  who  does  not  follow  Hobbes  in 
confounding  moral  with  legal  obligation ; 
a  theory  to  which  Mr.  Stewart  was,  of  all 
men,  the  most  averse. 

153.  Natural  jurisprudence  is  a  term 
that  is  not  always  taken  in  the  same  sense. 
It  seems  to  be  of  English  origin  ;  nor  am 
I  certain,  though  my  memory  may  deceive 
me,  that  I  have  ever  met  with  it  in  Latin 
or  in  French.  Strictly  speaking,  as  juris- 
prudence means  the  science  of  law,  and 
is  especially  employed  with  respect  to  the 
Roman,  natural  jurisprudence  must  be  the 
science  of  morals  or  the  law  of  nature. 
It  is  therefore,  in  this  sense,  coextensive 
with  ethics,  and  comprehends  the  rules 
of  temperance,  liberality,  and  benevolence 
as  much  as  those  of  justice.  Stewart, 
however,  seems  to  consider  this  idea  of 
jurisprudence  as  an  arbitrary  extension  of 
the  science  derived  from  the  technical 
phraseology  of  the  Roman  law.  "  Some 
vague  notion  of  this  kind,"  he  says,  "  has 
manifestly  given  birth  to  many  of  the  di- 
gressions of  Grotius."  It  may  have  been 
seen  by  the  analysis  of  the  entire  treatise 
of  Grotius  above  given,  that  none  of  his 
digressions,  if  such  they  are  to  be  called, 
have  originated  in  any  vague  notion  of  an 
identity,  or  proper  analogy,  between  the 
strict  rules  of  justice  and  those  of  the 
other  virtues.  The  Aristotelian  division 
of  justice  into  commutative  and  distribu- 
tive, which  Grotius  has  adopted,  might 
seem  in  some  respect  to  bear  out  this  sup- 
position ;  but  it  is  evident,  from  the  con- 
tents of  Stewart's  observations,  that  he 
was  referring  only  to  the  former  species, 
or  justice  in  its  more  usual  sense,  the  ob- 
servance of  perfect  rights,  whose  limits 
may  be  accurately  determined,  and  whose 
violation  may  be  redressed. 

154.  Natural  jurisprudence  has  another 
sense  imposed  upon  it  by  Adam  Smith. 
According  to  this  sense,  its  object,  in  the 
words  of  Stewart,  is  "  to  ascertain  the 
general  principles  of  justice  which  ought 
to  be  recognised  in  every  municipal  code, 
and  to  which  it  ought  to  be  the  aim  of 
every  legislator  to  accommodate  his  in- 
stitutions."    Grotius,  in  Smith's  opinion, 
was  "  the  first  who  attempted  to  give  the 
world  anything  like  a  system  of  those 
principles  which   ought   to  run  through, 
and  to  be  the  foundation  of,  the  laws  of 
all  nations;  and  his  treatise  on  the  laws 
of  peace  and  war,  with  all  its  imperfec- 
tions, is,  perhaps,  at  this  day  the  most 
complete  book  that  has  yet  been  given  on 
the  subject." 

155.  The  first  probably  in  modern  times, 
who  conceived  this  idea  of  a  universal 


FROM  1600  TO  1650. 


161 


jurisprudence  was  Lord  Bacon.  He  places 
among  the  desicterata  of  political  science 
the  province  of  universal  justice,  or  the 
sources  of  law.  Id  nunc  agatur,  ut  fontes 
justitiae  et  utilitatis  publics  petantur,  et 
in  singulis  juris  partibus  character  quidam 
et  idea  justi  exhibeatur,  ad  quern  particu- 
larium  regnorurn  et  rerumpublicarum  leges 
probare,  atque  inde  emendationem  moliri 
quisque,  cui  haec  cordi  erit  et  curaj  possit.* 
The  maxims  which  follow  are  an  admi- 
rable illustration  of  the  principles  which 
should  regulate  the  enactment  and  expres- 
sion of  laws,  as  well  as  much  that  should 
guide,  in  a  general  manner,  the  decision 
of  courts  of  justice.  They  touch  very 
slightly,  if  at  all,  any  subject  which  Gro- 
tius  has  handled ;  but  certainly  come  far 
closer  to  natural  jurisprudence,  in  the 
sense  of  Smith,  inasmuch  as  they  contain 
principles  which  have  no  limitation  to 
the  circumstances  of  particular  societies. 
These  maxims  of  Bacon,  and  all  others 
that  seem  properly  to  come  within  the 
province  of  jurisprudence  in  this  sense, 
which  is  how  become  not  uncommon,  the 
science  of  universal  law,  are  resolvable 
partly  into  those  of  natural  justice,  partly 
into  those  of  public  expediency.  Little, 
however,  could  be  objected  against  the 
admission  of  universal  jurisprudence,  in 
this  sense,  among  the  sciences.  But  if 
it  is  meant  that  any  systematic  science, 
whether  by  the  name  of  jurisprudence  or 
legislation,  can  be  laid  down  as  to  the 
principles  which  ought  to  determine  the 
institutions  of  all  nations,  or  that,  in  other 
words,  the  laws  of  each  separate  com- 
munity ought  to  be  regulated  by  any  uni- 
versal standard,  in  matters  not  depending 
upon  eternal  justice,  we  must  demur  to 
receiving  so  very  disputable  a  proposition. 
It  is  probable  that  Adam  Smith  had  no 
thoughts  of  asserting  it :  yet  his  language 
is  not  very  clear,  and  he  seems  to  have 
assigned  some  object  to  Grotius  distinct 
from  the  establishment  of  natural  and  in- 
ternational law.  "  Whether  this  was," 
says  Stewart,  "  or  was  hot,  the  leading 
object  of  Grotius,  it  is  not  material  to  de- 
cide ;  but  if  this  was  his  object,  it  will  not 
be  disputed  that  he  has  executed  his  de- 
sign in  a  very  desultory  manner,  and  that 
he  often  seems  to  have  lost  sight  of  it  al- 
together, in  the  midst  of  those  miscel- 
laneous speculations  on  political,  ethical, 
and  historical  subjects  which  form  so 
large  a  portion  of  his  treatise,  and  which 
so  frequently  succeed  each  other  without 
any  apparent  connexion  or  common  aim." 
156.  The  unfairness  of  this  passage  it 

*  De  Augmentis,  lib.  viii. 
VOL.  II.— X 


is  now  hardly  incumbent  upon  me  to  point 
out.  The  reader  has  been  enabled  to 
answer  that  no  political  speculation  will 
be  found  in  the  volume  De  Jure  Belli  ac 
Pacis,  unless  the  disquisition  on  the  origin 
of  human  society  is  thus  to  be  denomina- 
ted ;  that  the  instances  continually  ad- 
duced from  history  are  always  in  illustra- 
tion of  the  main  argument ;  and  that  what 
are  here  called  ethical  speculations  are, 
in  fact,  the  real  subject  of  the  book,  since 
rt  avowedly  treats  of  obligations  on  the 
conscience  of  mankind,  arid  especially  of 
their  rulers.  Whether  the  various  topics 
in  this  treatise  "  succeed  each  other  with- 
out apparent  connexion  or  common  aim," 
may  best  be  seen  by  the  titles  of  the  chap- 
ters, or  by  the  analysis  of  their  contents. 
There  are  certainly  a  very  few  of  these 
that  have  little  iii  common,  even  by  de- 
duction or  analogy,  with  international  law, 
though  scarce  any,  I  think,  which  do  not 
rise  naturally  out  of  the  previous  discus- 
sion. Exuberances  of  this  kind  are  so 
common  in  writers  of  great  reputation, 
that  where  they  do  not  transgress  more 
than  Grotius  has  done,  the  censure  of  ir- 
relevancy has  been  always  reckoned  hy- 
percritical. 

157.  "  The  Roman  system  of  jurispru- 
dence," Mr.  Stewart  proceeds,  "  seems  to 
have  warped,  in  no  inconsiderable  degree, 
the  notions  of  Grotius  on  all  questions 
connected  with  the  theory  of  legislation, 
and  to  have  diverted  his  attention  from 
that  philosophical  idea  of  law  so  well  ex- 
pressed by  Cicero,  Non  a  praetoris  edicto, 
neque  a  duodecim  tabulis,  sed  penitus  ex 
intima  philosophia  hauriendam  juris  dis- 
eiplinam.  In  this  idolatry,  indeed,  of  the 
Roman  law,  he  has  not  gone  so  far  as 
some  of  his  commentators,  who  have  af- 
firmed that  it  is  only  a  different  name  for 
the  law  of  nature :  but  that  his  partiality 
for  his  professional  pursuits  has  often  led 
him  to  overlook  the  immense  difference 
between  the  state  of  society  in  ancient 
and  modern  Europe  will  not,  I  believe, 
now  be  disputed."  It.  is  probable  that  it 
will  be  disputed  by  all  who  are  acquainted 
with  Grotius.  The  questions  connected 
with  the  theory  of  legislation  which  he 
has  discussed  are  chiefly  those  relating  to 
the  acquisition  and  alienation  of  property 
in  some  of  the  earlier  chapters  of  the  sec- 
ond book.  That  he  has  not,  in  these  dis- 
quisitions, adopted  all  the  determinations 
of  the  Roman  jurists,  is  certain ;  whether 
he  may  in  any  particular  instance  have 
adhered  to  them  more  than  the  best  theory 
of  legislation  would  admit,  is  a  matter  of 
variable  opinion.  But  Stewart,  wh'jlly 
unacquainted  with  the  civil  laws,  appears 


163 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


to  have  much  underrated  their  value.  In 
all  questions  of  private  right,  they  form 
the  great  basis  of  every  legislation ;  and, 
as  all  civilized  nations,  including  our  own, 
have  derived  a  large  portion  of  their  juris- 
prudence from  this  source,  so  even  the 
modern  theorists,  who  would  disdain  to  be 
ranked  as  disciples  of  Paullus  and  Papin- 
ian,  are  not  ashamed  to  be  their  plagiaries. 

158.  It  has  been  thrown  out   against 
Grotius  vindi-  Grotius  by  Rousseau,*  and  the 
rated  against   same  insinuation  may  be  found 
Rousseau.       jn  other  writers,  that  he  con- 
founds the  fact  with  the  right,  and  the  du- 
ties of  nations  with  their  practice.     How 
little  foundation  there  is  for  this  calumny 
is   sufficiently  apparent  to  our  readers. 
Scrupulous,  as  a  casuist,  to  an  excess 
hardly  reconcilable  with  the  security  and 
welfare  of  good  men,  he  was  the  first,  be- 
yond the  precincts  of  the  confessional  or 
the  church,  to  pour  the  dictates  of  a  saint- 
like innocence  into  the  ears  of  princes. 
It  is  true  that,  in  recognising  the  legitima- 
cy of  slavery,  and  in  carrying  too  far  the 
principles  of  abedience  to  government,  he 
may  be  thought  to  have  deprived  mankind 
of  some  of  their  security  against  injustice, 
but  this  is  exceedingly  different  from  a 
sanction  to  it.     An  implicit  deference  to 
what  he  took  for  divine  truth  was  the  first 
axiom  in  the  philosophy  of  Grotius  ;  if  he 
was  occasionally  deceived  in  his  applica- 
tion of  this  principle,  it  was  but  according 
to  the  notions  of  his  age  ;  but  those  who 
wholly  reject  the  authority  must  of  course 
want  a  common  standard  by  which  his 
speculations  in  moral  philosophy  can  be 
reconciled  with  their  own.  ^ 

159.  I  must  now  quit  a  subject  upon 
which,  perhaps,  I   have  dwelt  too   long. 
The  high  fame  of  Dugald  Stewart  has  ren- 
dered it  a  sort  of  duty  to  vindicate  from 
his  hasty  censures  the  memory  of  one 
still  more  illustrious  in  reputation,  till  the 
lapse  of  time  and  the  fickleness  &f  litera- 
ry fashion  conspired  with  the  popularity 
of  his  assailants  to  magnify  his  defects, 


*  Contrat  Social 


and  meet  the  very  name  of  his  famous 
treatise  with  a  kind  of  Scornful  ridicule. 
That  Stewart  had  never  read  much  of 
Grotius,  or  even  gone  over  the  titles  of 
his  chapters,  is  very  manifest ;  and  he  dis- 
plays a  similar  ignorance  as  to  the  other 
writers  on  natural  law,  who,  for  more  than 
a  century  afterward,  as  he  admits  him- 
self, exercised  a  great  influence  over  the 
studies  of  Europe.  I  have  commented 
upon  very  few,  comparatively,  of  the  slips 
which  occur  in  his  pages  on  this  subject. 

160.  The  arrangement  of  Grotius  has 
been  blamed  as  unscientific  by  a  His  arrange- 
more  friendly  judge,  Sir  James  ment- 
Mackintosh.     Though  I  do  not  feel  very 
strongly  the  force  of  his  objections,  it  is 
evident  that  the  law  of  nature  might  have 
been  established  on  its  basis  before  the 
author  passed  forward  to  any  disquisition 
upon  its  reference  to  independent  commu- 
nities.    This  would  have  changed  a  good 
deal  the  principal  object  that  Grotius  had 
in  view,  and  brought  his  treatise,  in  point 
of  method,  very  near  to  that  of  Puflfendorf, 
But  assuming,  as  he  did,  the  authority  rec- 
ognised by  those  for  whom   he   wrote, 
that  of  the  Scriptures,  he  was  less  inclined 
to  dwell  on  the  proof  which  reason  affords 
for  a  natural  law,  though  fully  satisfied  of 
its  validity  even  without  reference  to  the 
Supreme  Being. 

161.  The  real  faults  of  Grotius,  lead- 
ing to  erroneous  determinations,  „.   ,  f 
seems  to  be  rather  an  unneces- 
sary scrupulousness,  and  somewhat  of  old 
theological  prejudice,  from  which  scarce 
any  man  in  his  age,  who  was  not  wholly 
indifferent  to  religion,  had  liberated  him- 
self.    The  notes  of  Barbeyrac  seldom  fail 
to  correct  this  leaning.     Several  later  wri- 
ters on  international  law  have  treated  his 
doctrine   of  a  universal  law  of  nations 
founded  on  the  agreement  of  mankind  as 
an  empty  chimera  of  his  invention.     But 
if  he  only  meant  by  this  the  tacit  consent, 
or,  in  other  words,  the  general  custom  of 
civilized  nations,  it  does  not  appear  that 
there  is  much  difference  between  his  the- 
ory and  that  of  Wolf  or  Vattel. 


FROM  1600  TO  1650. 


CHAPTER  V. 


HISTORY  OF  POETRY  FROM  1600  TO  1650. 


SECT.  I.     ON  ITALIAN  POETRY. 

Characters  of  the  Poets  of  the  Seventeenth  Century 
—  Sometimes  too  much  depreciated.  —  Manni.  — 
Tassoni.  —  Chiabrera. 

1.  AT  the  close  of  the  sixteenth  cen- 
Lowestima-  tury,  few  remained  in  Italy  to 
tion  of  the     whom  posterity  has  assigned  a 
seiceiitisti.     considerable  reputation  for  their 
poetiy.     But  the  ensuing  period  has  stood 
lower,  for  the  most  part,  in  the  opinion  of 
later  ages  than  any  other  since  the  revi- 
val of  letters.     The  seicentisti,  the  writers 
of  the  seventeenth  century,  were  stigma- 
tized in  modern  criticism,  till  the  word  has 
been  associated  with  nothing  else  but  false 
taste,  and  everything  that  should  be  shun- 
ned and  despised.     Those  who  had  most 
influence  in  leading  the  literary  judgment 
of  Italy  went  back,  some  almost  exclu- 
sively to  the  admiration  of  Petrarch  and 
his  contemporaries,  some  to  the  various 
writers  who  cultivated  their  native  poetry 
in  the  sixteenth  century.      Salvini  is  of 
the  former  class,  Muratori  of  the  latter.* 

2.  The  last  age,  that  is,  the  concluding 
Not  quite  so  twenty  years  of  the  eighteenth 
great  as  for-  century,  brought  with  it,  in  many 

respects,  a  change  of  public  sen- 


timent in  Italy.  A  masculine  turn  of 
thought,  an  expanded  grasp  of  philosophy, 
a  thirst,  ardent  to  excess,  for  great  ex- 
ploits and  noble  praise,  has  distinguished 
the  Italian  people  of  the  last  fifty  years 
from  their  progenitors  of  several  prece- 
ding generations.  Jt  is  possible  that  the 
enhanced  relative  importance  of  the  Lom- 
bards in  their  national  literature  may  have 
not  been  without  its  influence  in  render- 
ing the  public  taste  less  fastidious  as  to 
purity  of  language,  less  fine  in  that  part 
of  aesthetic  discernment  which  relates  to 
the  grace  and  felicity  of  expression,  while 
it  became  also  more  apt  to  demand  ori- 
ginality, nervousness,  and  the  power  of 
exciting  emotion.  The  writers  of  the 
seventeenth  century  may,  in  some  cases, 
have  gained  by  this  revolution  ;  but  those 
.  of  the  preceding  ages,  especially  the  Pe- 
trarchists  whom  Bembo  had  led,  have  cer- 
tainly lost  ground  in  national  admiration. 


*  Muratori,  Delia  Perfetta  Poesia,  is  one  of  the 
nest  books  of  criticism  in  the  Italian  language  ;  in 
the  second  volume  are  contained  some  remarks  by 
Salvini,  a  bigoted  Florentine. 


3.  Rubbi,  editor  of  the  voluminous  col- 
lection called  Parnaso  Italiano,  had  prajsc  of 
the  courage  to  extol  the  li  seicen-  tiiem  by 
tisti"  for  their  genius  and  fancy,  Rubbi- 
and  even  to  place  them,  in  all  but  style, 
above  their  predecessors.     "  Give  them," 
he  says,  "  but  grace  and  purity,  take  from 
them  their  capricious  exaggerations,  their 
perpetual  and  forced  metaphors,  you  will 
think  Marini  the  first  poet  of  Italy,  and 
his  followers,  with  their  fulness  of  ima- 
gery and  personification,  will  make  you 
forget  their  monotonous  predecessors      I 
do  not  advise  you  to  make  a  study  of  the 
seicentisti ;  it  would  spoil  your  style,  per- 
haps your  imagination ;   I  only  tell  you 
that  they  were  the  true  Italian   poets  ; 
they  wanted  a  good  style,  it  is  admitted, 
but  they  were  so  far  from  wanting  genius 
and  imagination,  that  these,  perhaps,  tend- 
ed to  impair  their  style.* 

4.  It  is  probable  that  every  native  critic 
would  think  some  parts  of  this  .. 

T  -n        .1       Also  by  Sain. 

panegyric,  and  especially  the 
strongly  hyperbolical  praise  of  Marini,  car- 
ried too  far.  But  I  am  not  sure  that  we 
should  be  wrong  in  agreeing  with  Rubbi, 
that  there  is  as  much  catholic  poetry,  by 
which  I  mean  that  which  is  good  in  all 
ages  and  countries,  in  some  of  the  minor 
productions  of  the  seventeenth  as  in  those 
of  the  sixteenth  age.  The  sonnets,  espe- 
cially, have  more  individuality  and  more 
meaning.  In  this,  however,  I  should  wish 
to  include  the  latter  portion  of  the  seven- 
teenth century.  Salfi,  a  writer  of  more 
taste  and  judgment  than  Rubbi,  has  re- 
cently taken  the  same  side,  and  remarked 
the  superior  originality,  the  more  deter- 
mined individuality,  the  greater  variety 
of  subjects,  above  all,  what  the  Italians 
now  most  value,  the  more  earnest  patriot- 
ism of  the  later  poets. f  Those  immedi- 
ately before  us,  belonging  to  the  first  half 
of  the  century,  are  less  numerous  than  in 
the  former  age  ;  the  sonnetteers  especial- 
ly have  produced  much  less ;  and  in  the 
collections  of  poetry,  even  in  that  of  Rubbi, 
notwithstanding  his  eulogy,  they  take  up 


*  Parnaso  Italiano,  vol.  xli.  (AvvertimentoL 
Rubbi,  however,  gives  but  two  out  of  his  long  col- 
lection in  fifty  volumes,  to  the  writers  of  the  seven 
teenth  century. 

t  Salfi,  Hist.  Litt.  de  1'Italie  (continuation  d« 
Ginguene),  vol.  xii.,  p.  424. 


164 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


very  little  room.  Some,  however,  have 
obtained  a  durable  renown,  and  are  better 
known  in  Europe  than  any,  except  the 
Tassos,  that  flourished  in  the  last  fifty 
years  of  the  golden  age. 

5.  It  must  be  confessed  that  the  praise 
Adone  of  of  a  masculine  genius,  either  in 
Marini.    thought  or  language,  cannot  be  be- 
stowed on  the  poet  of  the  seventeenth 
century  whom  his  contemporaries  most 
admired,  Giovanni  Battista  Marini.     He 
is,  on  the  contrary,  more  deficient  than  all 
the  rest  in  such  qualities,  and  is  indebted 
to  the  very  opposite  characteristics  for  the 
sinister  influence  he  exerted  on  the  public 
taste.     He  was  a  Neapolitan  by  birth,  and 
gave  to  the  world  his  famous  Adone  in 
1623.     As  he  was  then  fifty-four  years 
old,  it  may  be  presumed,  from  the  charac- 
ter of  the  poem,  that  it  was  in  great  part 
written  long  before ;  and  he  had  already 
acquired  a  considerable  reputation  by  his 
other  works.     The  Adone  was  received 
with  an  unbounded  and  ill-judging  appro- 
bation ;  ill-judging  in  a  critical  sense,  be- 
cause the  faults  of  this  poem  are  incapa- 
ble of  defence,  but  not  unnatural,  as  many 
parallel  instances  of  the  world's  enthusi- 
asm have  shown.     No  one  had  before 
carried  the  corruption  of  taste   so  far ; 
extravagant  metaphors,  false  thoughts  and 
conceits  on  equivocal  words,  are  very  fre- 
quent in  the  Adone  ;  and  its  author  stands 
accountable,  in  some  measure,  for  his  im- 
itators, who,  during  more  than  half  a  cen- 
tury, looked  up  to  Marini  with  emulous 
folly,  and  frequently  succeeded  in  greater 
deviations  from  pure  taste  without  his 
imagination  and  elegance. 

6.  The  Adone  is  one  of  the  longest  po- 

Its  character.   6mS    ^^'-J^gS*^ 

more  than  45,000  lines.  He 
has  shown  some  ingenuity  in  filling  up 
the  canvass  of  so  slight  a  "story  by  addi- 
tional incidents  from  his  own  invention, 
and  by  long  episodes  allusive  to  the  times 
in  which  he  lived.  But  the  subject,  ex- 
panded so  interminably,  is  essentially  des- 
titute of  any  superior  interest,  and  fit  only 
for  an  enervated  people,  barren  of  high 
thoughts  and  high  actions ;  the  Italy,  not- 
withstanding some  bright  exceptions,  of 
the  seventeenth  century.  If  we  could 
overcome  this  essential  source  of  weari- 
ness, the  Adone  has  much  to  delight  our 
fancy  and  our  ear.  Marini  is,  more  than 
any  other  poet,  the  counterpart  of  Ovid  ; 
his  fertility  of  imagination,  his  ready  ac- 
cumulation of  circumstances  and  expres- 
sions, his  easy  flow  of  language,  his  har- 
monious versification,  are  in  no  degree 
inferior ;  his  faults  are  also  the  same ;  for 
in  Ovid  we  have  all  the  overstrained  fig- 


ures and  the  false  conceits  of  Marini. 
But  the  Italian  poet  was  incapable  of  im- 
itating the  truth  to  nature  and  depth  of 
feeling  which  appear  in  many  parts  of  his 
ancient  prototype,  nor  has  he  as  vigorous 
an  expression.  Never  does  Marini  rise 
to  any  high  pitch ;  few  stanzas,  perhaps, 
are  remembered  by  natives  for  their 
beauty,  but  many  are  graceful  and  pleas- 
ing, all  are  easy  and  musical.*  "  Per- 
haps," says  Salfi,  "  with  the  exception 
of  Ariosto,  no  one  has  been  more  a  poet 
by  nature  than  he  ;"f  a  praise,  however, 
which  may  justly  seem  hyperbolical  to 
those  who  recall  their  attention  to  the 
highest  attributes  of  poetry. 

7.  Marini  belongs  to  that  very  numerous 
body  of  poets  who,  delighted  with  And  popu- 
the  spontaneity  of  their  ideas,  imiiy. 
never  reject  any  that  arise  ;  their  parental 
love  forbids  all  preference,  and  an  impar- 
tial law  of  gavelkind  shares  their  page 
among  all  the  offspring  of  their  brain. 
Such  were  Ovid  and  Lucan,  and  such  have 
been  some  of  our  own  poets  of  great  genius 
and  equal  fame.  Their  fertility  astonishes 
the  reader,  and  he  enjoys  for  a  time  the 
abundant  banquet ;  but  satiety  is  too  sure 
a  consequence,  and  he  returns  with  less 
pleasure  to  a  second  perusal.  The  cen- 
sure of  criticism  falls  invariably,  and  some- 
times too  harshly,  on  this  sort  of  poetry ; 
it  is  one  of  those  cases  where  the  critic 
and  the  world  are  most  at  variance  ;  but 
the  world  is  apt.  in  this  instance,  to  re- 
verse its  own  judgment,  and  yield  to  the 
tribunal  it  had  rejected.  "To  Marini," 


*  Five  stanzas  of  the  seventh  canto,  being  a 
choral  song  of  satyrs  and  bacchanti,  are  thrown 
into  versi  sdruccioli,  and  have  been  accounted  by  the 
Italians  an  extraordinary  effort  of  skill,  from  the 
difficulty  of  sustaining  a  metre  which  is  not  strong 
in  rhymes  with  so  much  spirit  and  ease.  Each 
verse  also  is  divided  into  three  parts,  themselves 
already  sdruccioli,  though  not  rhyming.  One  stan 
za  will  make  this  clear : 

Hor  d'  ellera  s'  adornino,  e  di  pampino 

I  giovani,  e  le  vergini  piu  tenere, 

E  gemina  nell'  anima  si  stampino 

L'  imagine  di  Libero,  e  di  Venere. 

Tutti  ardano,  s'  accendano,  ed  avampino, 

Qual  Semele,  ch'  al  folgore  fi5  cenere  ; 

E  cantino  a  Cupidine,  ed  a  Bromio, 

Con  numeri  poetici  un'  encomio. 

Cant,  vii,  st.  118. 

Though  this  metrical  skill  may  not  be  of  th3 
highest  merit  in  poetry,  it  is  no  mote  to  be  slighted 
than  facility  of  touch  in  a  painter. 

t  Vol.  xiv.,  p.  147.  The  character  of  Marini's 
poetry  which  this  critic  has  given  is,  in  general,  very 
just,  and  in  good  taste.  Corniani  (vii.,  123)  has 
also  done  justice,  and  no  more  than  justice,  to  Ma- 
rini. Tiraboschi  has  hardly  said  enough  in  his  fa- 
vour ;  and  as  to  Muratori,  it  was  his  business  to 
restore  and  maintain  a  purity  of  taste,  which  ren- 
dered him  severe  towards  the  excesses  of  such  po- 
ets as  Marini. 


FROM  1600  TO  1650. 


165 


says  an  eminent  Italian  writer,  "  we  owe 
the  lawlessness  of  composition :  the  ebul- 
lition of  his  genius,  incapable  of  restraint, 
burst  through  every  bulwark,  enduring  no 
rule  but  that  of  his  own  humour,  which 
was  all  for  sonorous  verse,  bold  and  in- 
genious thoughts,  fantastical  subjects,  a 
phraseology  rather  Latin  than  Italian,  and, 
in  short,  aimed  at  pleasing  by  a  false  ap- 

Eearance  of  beauty.  It  would  almost  pass 
elief  how  much  this  style  was  admired, 
were  it  not  so  near  our  own  time  that  we 
hear,  as  it  were,  the  echo  of  its  praise ; 
nor  did  Dante,  or  Petrarch,  or  Tasso,  or 
perhaps  any  of  the  ancient  poets,  obtain 
in  their  lives  so  much  applause."*  But 
Marini,  who  died  in  1625,  had  not  time  to 
enjoy  much  of  this  glory.  The  length  of 
this  poem,  and  the  diffuseness  which  pro- 
duces its  length,  render  it  nearly  impos- 
sible to  read  through  the  Adone ;  and  it 
wants  that  inequality  which  might  secure 
a  preference  to  detached  portions.  The 
story  of  Psyche,  in  the  fourth  canto,  may 
perhaps  be  as  fair  a  specimen  of  Marini 
as  could  be  taken  :  it  is  not  easy  to  destroy 
the  beauty  of  that  fable,  nor  was  he  un- 
fitted to  relate  it  with  grace  and  interest ; 
but  he  has  displayed  all  the  blemishes  of 
his  own  style.j 

8.  The  Secchia  Rapita  of  Alessandro 
Secchia  Tassoni,  published  at  Paris  in  1 622, 
Rapita  of  is  better  known  in  Europe  than 
Tassoni.  mjght,  have  been  expected  from  its 
local  subject,  idiomatic  style,  and  unin- 
telligible personalities.  It  turns,  as  the 
title  imports,  on  one  of  the  petty  wars 
frequent  among  the  Italian  cities  as  late 
as  the  beginning  of  the  fourteenth  cen- 
tury, wherein  the  Bolognese  endeavoured 
to  recover  the  bucket  of  a  well,  which  the 
citizens  of  Modena,  in  a  prior  incursion, 
had  carried  off.  Tassoni,  by  a  poetical 
anachronism,  mixed  this  with  an  earlier 
contest  of  rather  more  dignity  between 
the  little  republics,  wherein  Enzio,  king 
of  Sardinia,  a  son  of  Frederic  II.,  had 
been  made  prisoner.  He  has  been  reck- 
oned by  many  the  inventor,  or,  at  least,  the 
reproducer  in  modern  times,  of  the  mock- 


*  Crescimbeni,  ii.,  470.  ' 

t  The  Adone  has  been  frequently  charged  with 
want  of  decency.  It  was  put  to  the  ban  of  the  Ro- 
man Inquisition,  and  grave  writers  have  deemed 
it  necessary  to  protest  against  its  licentiousness. 
Andres  even  goes  so  far  as  to  declare  that  no  one 
can  read  the  Adone  whose  heart  as  well  as  taste  is 
not  conupt:  and  that,  both  for  the  sake  of  good 
morals  and  good  poetry,  it  should  be  taken  out  of 
every  one's  hands.  After  such  invectives,  it  may 
seern  extraordinary  that,  though  the  poem  of  Marini 
must,  by  its  nature,  be  rather  voluptuous,  it  is  by  far 
less  open  to  such  an  objection  than  the  Orlando 
Furioso,  nor  more,  I  believe,  than  the  Faery  Queen. 
No  charge  is  apt  to  be  made  so  capriciously  as  this. 


heroic  style.*  Pulci,  however,  had  led  the 
way;  and  when  Tassoni  claims  originali- 
ty, it  must  be  in  a  very  limited  view  of 
the  execution  of  his  poem.  He  has  cer- 
tainly more  of  parody  than  Pulci  could 
have  attempted ;  the  great  poems  of  Arios- 
to  and  Tasso,  especially  the  latter,  supply 
him  with  abundant  opportunities  for  this 
ingenious  and  lively,  but  not  spiteful,  ex- 
ercise of  wit,  and  he  has  adroitly  seized 
the  ridiculous  side  of  his  contemporary 
Marini.  The  combat  of  the  cities,  it  may 
be  observed,  is  serious  enough,  however 
trifling  the  cause,  and  has  its  due  propor- 
tion of  slaughter ;  but  Tassoni,  very  much 
in  the  manner  of  the  Morgante  Maggiore, 
throws  an  air  of  ridicule  over  the  whole. 
The  episodes  are  generally  in  a  still  more 
comic  style.  A  graceful  facility  and  a 
light  humour,  which  must  have  been  in- 
comparably better  understood  by  his  coun- 
trymen and  contemporaries,  make  this  a 
very  amusing  poem.  It  is  exempt  from 
the  bad  taste  of  the  age ;  and  the  few 
portions  where  the  burlesque  tone  disap- 
pears are  versified  with  much  elegance. 
Perhaps  it  has  not  been  observed  that 
the  Count  de  Culagne,  one  of  his  most 
ludicrous  characters,  bears  a  certain  re- 
semblance to  Hudibras,  both  by  his  awk- 
ward and  dastardly  appearance  as  a  knight, 
and  by  his  ridiculous  addresses  to  the  lady 
whom  he  woos.f  None,  however,  will 
question  the  originality  of  Butler. 

9.  But  the  poet  of  whom  Italy  has,  in 
later  times,  been  far  more  proud 
than  of  Marini  or  Tassoni,  was  Chiabrera- 
Chiabrera.  Of  his  long  life,  the  greater 
part  fell  within  the  sixteenth  century, 
and  some  of  his  poems  were  published  be- 
fore its  close;  but, he  has  generally  been 
considered  as  belonging  to  the  present 
period.  Chiabrera  is  the  founder  of  a 
school  in  the  lyric  poetry  of  Italy,  render- 
ed afterward  more  famous  by  Guidi.  which 
affected  the  name  of  Pindaric.  It  is  the 
Theban  lyre  which  they  boast  to  strike : 
it  is  from  the  fountain  of  Dirce  that  they 
draw  their  inspiration ;  and  these  allu- 


>  Boileau  seems  to  acknowledge  himself  indebt- 
ed to  Tassoni  for  the  Lutrin  ;  and  Pope  may  have 
followed  both  in  the  Rape  of  the  Lock,  though 
what  he  has  added  is  a  purely  original  conception. 
Out,  in  fact,  the  mock-heroic  or  burlesque  style,  in 
a  general  sense,  is  so  natural,  and,  moreover,  so 
common,  that  it  is  idle  to  talk  of  its  inventor. 
What  else  is  Rabelais,  Don  Quixote,  or,  in  Italian, 
the  romance  of  Bertoldo,  all  older  than  Tassoni '. 
What  else  are  the  popular  tales  of  children,  John 
the  Giganticide,  and  many  more?  The  poem  of 
Tassoni  had  a  very  great  reputation.  Voltaire  did 
it  injustice,  though  it  was  much  in  his  own  line. 

t  Cantos  x.  and  xi.  It  was  intended  as  a  ridi- 
cule on  Marini,  but  represents  a  rnal  personage. — 
Salfi,  xiii.,  147. 


166 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


sions  are  as  frequent  in  their  verse,  as 
those  to  Valclusa  and  the  Sorga  in  the 
followers  of  Petrarch.  Chiabrera  bor- 
rowed from  Pindar  that  grandeur  of  sound, 
that  pomp  of  epithets,  that  rich  swell  of 
imagery,  that  unvarying  majesty  of  con- 
ception, which  distinguish  the  odes  of  both 
poets.  He  is  less  frequently  harsh  or 
turgid,  though  the  latter  blemish  has  been 
sometimes  observed  in  him,  but  wants 
also  the  masculine  condensation  of  his 
prototype ;  nor  does  he  deviate  so  fre- 
quently, or  with  so  much  power  of  ima- 
gination, into  such  digressions  as  those 
which  generally  shade  from  our  eyes,  in  a 
skilful  profusion  of  ornament,  the  victors 
of  the  Grecian  games  whom  Pindar  pro- 
fesses to  celebrate.  The  poet  of  the  house 
of  Medici  and  of  other  princes  of  Italy, 
great  at  least  in  their  own  time,  was  not 
so  much  compelled  to  desert  his  imme- 
diate subject  as  he  who  was  paid  for  an 
ode  by  some  wrestler  or  boxer,  who  could 
only  become  worthy  of  heroic  song  by 
attaching  his  name  to  the  ancient  glories 
of  his  native  city.  The  profuse  employ- 
ment of  mythological  allusions,  frigid  as 
it  appears  at  present,  was  so  customary 
that  we  can  hardly  impute  to  it  much 
blame ;  and  it  seemed  peculiarly  appro- 
priate to  a  style  which  was  studiously 
formed  on  the  Pindaric  model.*  The  odes 
of  Chiabrera  are  often  panegyrical,  and  his 
manner  was  well  fitted  for  that  style, 
though  sometimes  we  have  ceased  to  ad- 
mire those  whom  he  extols.  But  he  is 
not  eminent  for  purity  of  taste,  nor,  I  be- 
lieve, of  Tuscan  language :  he  endeavoured 
to  force  the  idiom,  more  than  it  would 
bear,  by  constructions  and  inventions  bor- 
rowed from  the  ancient  tongues ;  and  these 
odes,  splendid  and  noble  as  they  are,  bear, 
in  the  estimation  of  critics,  some  marks 
of  the  seventeenth  century. f  The  satiri- 
cal epistles  of  Chiabrera  are  praised  by 
Salfi  as  written  in  a  moral  Horatian  tone, 
abounding  with  his  own  experience  and 
allusions  to  his  time.J  But  in  no  other 
kind  of  poetry  has  he  been  so  highly  suc- 
cessful as  in  the  lyric;  and,  though  the 
Grecian  robe  is  never  cast  away,  he  imi- 
tated Anacreon  with  as  much  skill  as 
Pindar.  "  His  lighter  odes,"  says  Cres- 
cimbeni,  "  are  most  beautiful  and  elegant, 


*  Salfi  justifies  the  continual  introduction  of 
mythology  by  the  Italian  poets,  on  the  ground  that 
it  was  a  part  of  their  national  inheritance,  asso- 
ciated with  the  monuments  and  recollections  of 
their  giory.  This  would  be  more  to  the  purpose  if 
this  mythology  had  not  been  almost  exclusively 
Greek.  But  perhaps  all  that  was  of  classical  an- 
tiquity might  be  blended  in  their  sentiments  with 
the  memory  of  Rome. 

t  Salfi,  xii.,  250.  $  Id.,  xiii.,  2012. 


full  of  grace,  vivacity,  spirit,  and  delicacy 
and  adorned  with  pleasing  inventions,  and 
differing  in  nothing  but  language  from 
those  of  Anacreon.  His  dithyrambics  I 
hold  incapable  of  being  excelled,  all  the 
qualities  required  in  such  compositions 
being  united  with  a  certain  nobleness  of 
expression  which  elevates  all  it  touches 
upon."* 

10.  The  greatest  lyric  poet  of  Greece 
was  not  more  the  model  of  Chiabrera  than 
his  Roman  competitor  was  of  Testi.   "  Had 
he  been  more  attentive  to  the  choice  of 
his  expression,"  says  Crescimbeni,  '*  he 
might  have  earned  the  name  of  the  Tuscan 
Horace."     The  faults  of  his  age  are  said 
to  be  frequently  discernible  in  Testi ;  but 
there. is,  to  an  ordinary  reader,  an  Horatian 
elegance,  a  certain  charm  of  grace  and  ease 
in  his  canzoni,  which  render  them  pleasing. 
One  of  these,  beginning  Ruscelletto  orgog- 
lioso,  is  highly  admired  by  Muratori,  the 
best,  perhaps,  of  the  Italian  critics,  and 
one  not  slow  to  censure  any  defects  of 
taste.    It  apparently  alludes  to  some  ene- 
my in  the  court  of  Modena.f   The  charac- 
ter of  Testi  was  ambitious  and  restless, 
his  life  spent  in  seeking  and  partly  in  en- 
joying public  offices,  but  terminated  in 
prison.    He  had  taken,  says  a  later  writer, 
Horace  for  his  model ;  and  perhaps,  like 
him,  he  wished  to  appear  sometimes  a 
stoic,  sometimes   an   epicurean ;   but  he 
knew  not,  like  him,  how  to  profit  by  the 
lessons  either  of  Zeno  or  Epicurus,  so  as 
to  lead  a  tranquil  and  independent  life.J 

11.  The   imitators  of  Chiabrera  were 
generally  unsuccessful ;   they  H.sfollowere. 
became  hyperbolical  and  ex- 
aggerated.    The  translation  of  Pindar  by 
Alessandro  Adimari,  though  not  very  much 
resembling  the  original,  has  been  praised 
for  its  own  beauty.     But  these  poets  are 
not  to  be  confounded  with  the  Marinists, 
to  whom  they  are  much  superior.    Ciam- 
poli,  whose  Rime  were  published  in  1628, 
may  perhaps  be  the  best  after  Chiabrera. § 
Several   obscure    epic   poems,    some   of 
which  are  rather  to  be  deemed  romances, 
are  commemorated  by  the  last  historian 
of  Italian  literature.     Among  these  is  the 
Conquest  of  Granada  by  Graziani,  pub- 
lished in  1650.     Salfi  justly  observes  that 
the  subject  is  truly  epic  ;  but  the  poem  it- 
self seems  to  be  nothing  but  a  series  of 
episodical  intrigues  without  unity.     The 


*  Storia  della  volgar  Poesia,  ii.,  483. 

t  This  canzon  is  in  Matthias,  Componimenti 
Lirici,  ii.,  190. 

J  Salfi,  xii.,  281. 

$  Id.,  p.  303.  Tiraboschi,  xi.,  364.  Baillet,  on 
the  authority  of  others,  speaks  less  honourably  of 
Ciampoli.— N.  1451. 


FROM  1600  TO  1650. 


167 


style,  according  to  the  same  writer,  is  re- 
dundant, the  similes  too  frequent  and  mo- 
notonous ;  yet  he  prefers  it  to  all  the  heroic 
poems  which  had  intervened  since  that  of 
Tasso.* 


SECT.  II.     ON  SPANISH  POETRY. 

Romances. — The  Argensolas. — Villegas. —  Gongo- 
ra  and  his  School. 

12.  THE  Spanish  poetry  of  the  sixteenth 
The  styles  century  might  be  arranged  in  three 
orspanish  classes.     In  the  first   we   might 
PO^T-      place  that  which  was  formed  in 
the   ancient   school,   though  not   always 
preserving  its  characteristics ;   the  short 
trochaic  metres,  employed  in  the  song  or 
the  ballad,  altogether  national,  or  aspiring 
to  be  such,  either  in  its  subjects  or  in  its 
style.     In  the  second  would  stand  that  to 
which  the  imitation  of  the  Italians  had 
given  rise,  the  school  of  Boscan  and  Garci- 
lasso  ;  and  with  these  we  might  place  also 
the  epic  poems,  which  do  not  seem  to  be 
essentially  different  from  similar  produc- 
tions of  Italy.     A  third  and  not  incon- 
siderable division,  though  less  extensive 
than  the  others,  is  composed  of  the  poetry 
of  good  sense  ;  the  didactic,  semi-satirical. 
Horatian  style,  of  which  Mendoza  was 
the  founder,   and    several   specimens   of 
which  occur  in  the  Parnaso  Espanol  of 
Sedano. 

13.  The  romances  of  the  Cid  and  many 

others  are  referred  by  the  most 

The  romances.  ,    .     ,          *     it. 

competent  judges  to  the  reign 
of  Philip  Ill.f  These  are  by  no  means 
among  the  best  of  Spanish  romances ;  and 
we  should  naturally  expect  that  so  arti- 
ficial a  style  as  the  imitation  of  ancient 
manners  and  sentiments  by  poets  in  wholly 
a  different  state  of  society,  though  some 
men  of  talent  might  succeed  in  it,  would 


*  Salfi,  vol.  xiii.,  p.  94-129. 

+  Duran,  Roman(;ero  de  romances  doctrinales, 
amatorios.  festivos,  &c.,  1829.  The  Moorish  ro- 
mances, with  a  few  exceptions,  and  those  of  the 
Cid,  are  ascribed  by  this  author  to  the  latter  part 
of  the  sixteenth  and  the  first  half  of  the  seventeenth 
century.  In  the  preface  to  a  former  publication, 
Romances  Monscos,  this  writer  has  said,  Cosi  todos 
los  romances  que  publicamos  en  este  libro  perten- 
ecen  al  siglo  16mo,  y  algunos  pocos  a  principio  del 
17mo.  Los  autores  son  desconoscidos,  pero  sus 
obras  han  llegado,  y  merecido  llegar  a  la  posteridad. 
It  seems  manifest  from  internal  eiwlrnco,  without 
critical  knowledge  of  the  language,  that  those  re- 
lating to  the  Cid  are  not  of  the  middle  ages,  though 
some  seem  still  inclined  to  give  them  a  high  an- 
tiquity. It  is  not  sufficient  to  say  that  the  language 
has  been  modernized ;  the  whole  structure  of  these 
ballads  is  redolent  of  a  low  age  ;  and  if  the  Spanish 
critics  agree  in  this,  I  know  not  why  foreigners 
should  strive  against  them. 


soon  degenerate  into  an  affected  manner- 
ism. The  Italian  style  continued  to  be 
cultivated  :  under  Philip  III.,  the  decline 
of  Spain  in  poetry,  as  in  arms  and  national 
power,  was  not.  so  striking  as  afterward. 
Several  poets  belong  to  the  age  of  that 
prince,  and  even  that  of  Philip  IV.  was 
not  destitute  of  men  of  merited  reputation.* 
Among  the  best  were  two  brothers,  Luper- 
cio  and  Bartholomew  Argensola.  The  brothers 
These  were  chiefly  distinguish-  Argensola. 
ed  in  what  I  have  called  the  third  or  Hora- 
tian manner  of  Spanish  poetry,  though 
they  by  no  means  confined  themselves 
to  any  peculiar  style.  "  Lupercio,"  says 
Bouterwek,  "  formed  his  style  after  Hor- 
ace with  no  less  assiduity  than  Luis  de 
Leon ;  but  he  did  not  possess  the  soft  en- 
thusiasm of  that  pious  poet,  who,  in  the  reli- 
gious spirit  of  his  poetry,  is  so  totally  unlike 
Horace.  An  understanding  at  once  solid 
and  ingenious,  subject  to  no  extravagant 
illusion,  yet  full  of  true  poetic  feeling,  and 
an  imagination  more  plastic  than  creative, 
impart  a  more  perfect  Horatian  colouring 
to  the  odes,  as  well  as  to  the  canciones  and 
sonnets  of  Lupercio.  He  closely  imitated 
Horace  in  his  didactic  satires,  a  style  of 
composition  in  which  no  Spanish  poet  had 
preceded  him.  But  he  never  succeeded 
in  attaining  the  bold  combination  of  ideas 
which  characterizes  the  ode  style  of  Hor- 
ace ;  and  his  conceptions  have  therefore 
seldom  any  thing  like  the  Horatian  energy. 
On  the  other  hand,  all  his  poems  express 
no  less  precision  of  language  than  the 
models  after  which  he  formed  his  style. 
His  odes,  in  particular,  are  characterized 
by  a  picturesque  tone  of  expression,  which 
he  seems  lo  have  imbibed  from  Virgil 
rather  than  from  Horace.  The  extrava- 
gant metaphors  by  which  some  of  Her- 
rera's  odes  are  deformed  were  uniformly 
avoided  by  Lupercio. "f  The  genius  of 
Bartholomew  Argensola  was  very  like 
that  of  his  brother,  nor  are  their  writings 
easily  distinguishable ;  but  Bouterwek  as- 
signs, on  the  whole,  a  higher  place  to  Bar- 
tholomew. Dieze  inclines  to  the  same 
judgment,  and  thinks  the  eulogy  of  Nicolas 


*  Antonio  bestows  unbounded  praise  on  a  poem 
of  the  epic  class,  the  Bernardo  of  Balbuena,  pub- 
lished at  Madrid  in  1624,  though  he  complains  that 
in  his  own  age  it  lay  hid  in  the  corners  of  book- 
sellers' shops.  Balbuena,  in  his  opinion,  has  left 
all  Spanish  poets  far  behind,  him.  The  subject  of 
his  poem  is  the  very  common  fable  of  Koncesvalles. 
Dieze,  a  more  judicious  and  reasonable  critic  than 
Antonio,  while  he  denies  this  absolute  pre-eminence 
of  Balbuena,  gives  him  a  respectable  place  among 
the  many  epic  writers  of  Spain.  But  t  do  not  find 
him  mentioned  in  Bouterwek ;  in  fact,  most  of  these 
poems  are  very  scarce,  and  are  treasures  for  the 
bibliomaniacs. 

t  Hist,  of  Spanish  Literature,  p.  395. 


168 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


Antonio  on  these  brothers,  extravagant  as 
it  seems,  not  beyond  their  merits. 

14.  But  another  poet,  Manuel  Estevan 

de  Villegas,  whose  poems,  written 
181  in  very  early  youth,  entitled  Ama- 
torias  or  Eroticas,  were  published  in  1620, 
has  attained  a  still  higher  reputation,  es- 
pecially in  other  parts  of  Europe.  Dieze 
calls  him  "  one  of  the  best  lyric  poets  of 
Spain,  excellent  in  the  various  styles  he 
has  performed,  but,  above  all,  in  his  odes 
and  songs.  His  original  poems  are  full 
of  genius  ;  his  translations  of  Horace  and 
Anacreon  might  often  pass  for  original. 
Few  surpass  him  in  harmony  of  verse ;, 
he  is  the  Spanish  Anacreon,  the  poet  of 
the  Graces."*  Bouterwek,  a  more  dis- 
criminating judge  than  Dieze,  who  is,  per- 
haps, rather  valuable  for  research  than  for 
taste,  has  observed  that  "  the  graceful 
luxuriance  of  the  poetry  of  Villegas  has 
no  parallel  in  modern  literature ;  and, 
generally  speaking,  no  modern  writer  has 
so  well  succeeded  in  blending  the  spirit  of 
ancient  poetry  with  the  modern.  But 
constantly  to  observe  that  correctness  of 
ideas  which  distinguished  the  classical 
compositions  of  antiquity,  was  by  Ville- 
gas, as  by  most  Spanish  poets,  considered 
too  rigid  a  requisition,  and  an  unnecessa- 
ry restraint  on  genius.  He  accordingly 
sometimes  degenerates  into  conceits  and 
images,  the  monstrous  absurdity  of  which 
are  characteristic  of  the  author's  nation 
and  age.  For  instance,  in  one  of  his  odes, 
in  which  he  entreats  Lyda  to  suffer  her 
tresses  to  flow,  he  says  that,  '  agitated  by 
Zephyr,  her  locks  would  occasion  a  thou- 
sand deaths,  and  subdue  a  thousand  lives ;' 
and  then  he  adds,  in  a  strain  of  extrava- 
gance surpassing  that  of  the  Marinists, 
'  that  the  sun  himself  would  cease  to  give 
light  if  he  did  not  snatch  beams  from  her 
radiant  countenance  to  illumine  the  east.' 
But  faults  of  this  glaring  kind  are  by  no 
means  frequent  in  the  poetry  of  Villegas  ; 
and  the  fascinating  grace  with  which  he 
emulates  his  models  operates  with  so 
powerful  a  charm,  that  the  occasional  oc- 
currence of  some  little  affectations,  from 
which  he  could  scarcely  be  expected  en- 
tirely to  abstain,  is  easily  overlooked  by 
the  reader."! 

15.  Quevedo,  who,  having  borne    the 
Quevedo   surname  of   Villegas,  has  some- 
times been  confounded  with  the 

poet  we  have  just  named,  is  better  known 
in  Europe  for  his  prose  than  his  verse ; 
but  he  is  the  author  of  numerous  poems, 
both  serious  and  comic  or  satirical.  The 

*  Geschichte  der  Spanischen  Dichtkunst,  p.  210. 
•*•  Bouterwek,  i.,  479. 


latter  are  by  much  the  more  esteemed  of 
the  two.  He  wrote  burlesque  poetry  with 
success,  but  it  is  frequently  unintelligible 
except  to  natives.  In  satire  he  adopted 
the  Juvenalian  style.*  A  few  more  might 
be  added,  perhaps,  especially  Espinel,  a 
poet  of  the  classic  school,  Borja  of  Es- 
quillace,  once  viceroy  of  Peru,  who  is 
called  by  Bouterwek  the  last  representa- 
tive of  that  style  in  Spain,  but  more  wor- 
thy of  praise  for  withstanding  the  bad 
taste  of  his  contemporaries  than  for  any 
vigour  of  genius,  and  Christopher  de  la 
Mena.f  No  Portuguese  poetry  about  this 
time  seems  to  be  worthy  of  notice  in  Eu- 
ropean literature,  though  Manuel  Faria  y 
Sousa  and  a  few  more  might  attain  a  lo- 
cal reputation  by  sonnets  and  other  ama- 
tory verse. 

16.  The  original  blemish  of  Spanish 
writing,  both  in  prose  and  verse,  Defects  of 
had  been  an  excess  of  effort  to  fas'e  in  span- 
say  everything  in  an  unusual  lsh  verse' 
manner;  a  deviation  from  the  beaten  paths 
of  sentiment  and  language  in  a  wider 
curve  than  good  taste  permits.  Taste  is 
the  presiding  faculty  which  regulates,  in 
all  works  within  her  jurisdiction,  the 
struggling  powers  of  imagination,  emo- 
tion, and  reason.  Each  has  its  claim  to 
mingle  in  the  composition ;  each  may 
sometimes  be  allowed,  in  a  great  meas- 
ure, to  predominate  ;  and  a  phlegmatic  ap- 
plication of  what  men  call  common  sense 
in  aesthetic  criticism  is  almost  as  repug- 
nant to  its  principles  as  a  dereliction  of 
all  reason  for  the  sake  of  fantastic  absurd- 
ity. Taste  also  must  determine,  by  an 
intuitive  sense  of  right  somewhat  analo- 
gous to  that  which  regulates  the  manners 
of  life,  to  what  extent  the  most  simple, 
the  most  obvious,  the  most  natural,  and, 
therefore,  in  a  popular  meaning,  the  most 
true,  is  to  be  modified  by  a  studious  intro- 
duction of  the  new,  the  striking,  and  the 
beautiful,  so  that  neither  what  is  insipid 
and  trivial,  nor  yet  what  is  forced  and  af- 
fected, may'  displease  us.  In  Spain,  as 
we  have  observed,  the  latter  was  always 
the  prevailing  fault.  The  public  taste  had 
been  formed  on  bad  models — on  the  Ori- 
ental poetry,  metaphorical  beyond  all  per- 
ceptible analogy,  and  on  that  of  the  Pro- 
vencjals,  false  in  sentiment,  false  in  con- 
ception, false  in  image  and  figure.  The 
national  chapacter,  proud,  swelling,  and 
ceremonious,  conspired  to  give  an  inflated 
tone  ;  it  was  also  grave  and  sententious 
rather  than  lively  or  delicate,  and  there- 
fore fond  of  a  strained  and  ambitious 
style.  These  vices  of  writing  are  car- 


Bouterwek,  p.  468. 


t  Id.,  p.  488 


FROM  1600  TO  1050. 


169 


tied  to  excess  in  romances  of  chivalry, 
which  became  ridiculous  in  the  eyes  of 
sensible  men,  but  were  certainly  very 
popular ;  they  affect  also,  though  in  a  dil- 
ferent  manner,  much  of  the  Spanish  prose 
of  the  sixteenth  century,  and  they  belong 
to  a  great  deal  of  the  poetry  of  that,  age, 
though  it  must  be  owned  that  much  ap- 
pears wholly  exempt  from  them,  and 
written  in  a  very  pure  and  classical  spirit. 
Cervantes  strove  by  example  and  by  pre- 
cept to  maintain  good  taste  ;  and  some  of 
his  contemporaries  took  the  same  line.* 
But  they  had  to  fight  against  the  predom- 
inant turn  of  their  nation,  which  soon 
gave  the  victory  to  one  of  the  worst  man- 
ners of  writing  that  ever  disgraced  public 
favour. 

17.  Nothing  can  be  more  opposite   to 
Pedantry  and  what  is  strictly  called  a  classi- 
far-fetched      cal  style,  or  one  formed  upon 
allusions.       the  best  models  of  Greece  and 

Rome,  than  pedantry.  This  was,  never- 
theless, the  weed  that  overspread  the  face 
of  literature  in  those  ages  when  Greece 
and  Rome  were  the  chief  objects  of  ven- 
eration. Without  an  intimate  discern- 
ment of  their  beauty,  it  was  easy  to  copy 
allusions  that  were  no  longer  intelligible, 
to  counterfeit  trains  of  thought  that  be- 
longed to  past  times,  to  force  reluctant 
idioms  into  modern  forms,  as  some  are 
said  to  dress  after  a  lady  for  whom  nature 
has  done  more  than  for  themselves.  From 
the  revival  of  letters  downward  this  had 
been  more  or  less  observable  in  the  learn- 
ed men  of  Europe,  and,  after  that  class 
grew  more  extensive,  in  the  current  lit- 
erature of  modern  languages.  Pedantry, 
which  consisted  in  unnecessary,  and  per- 
haps unintelligible,  references  to  ancient 
learning,  was  afterward  combined  with 
other  artifices  to  obtain  the  same  end,  far- 
fetched metaphors  and  extravagant  con- 
ceits. The  French  versifiers  of  the  latter 
end  of  the  sixteenth  century  were  emi- 
nent in  both,  as  the  works  of  Ronsard  and 
Du  Bartas  attest.  We  might,  indeed,  take 
the  Creation  of  Du  Bartas  more  properly 
than  the  Euphues  of  our  English  Lilly, 
which,  though  very  affected  and  unpleas- 
ing,  does  hardly  such  violence  to  common 
speech  and  common  sense,  for  the  proto- 
type of  the  style  which,  in  the  early  part 
of  the  seventeenth  century,  became  popu- 
lar in  several  countries,  but  Specially  in 
Spain,  through  the  misplaced  labours  of 
Gongora. 

18.  Luis   de   Gongora,  a  man  of  very 


*  Cervantes,  in  his  Viage  del  Parnaso,  praises 
Gongora,  and  even  imitates  his  style  ;  but  this, 
Dieze  says,  is  all  ironic*!.—  Gesch.  der  Dichtkunst, 
p.  250. 

VOL  II.— Y 


considerable  talents,  and  capable  Go 
of  writing  well,  as  he  has  shown, 
in  different  styles  of  poetry,  was  unfortu- 
nately led,  by  an  ambitious  desire  of  pop- 
ularity, to  introduce  one  which  should  ren- 
der his  name  immortal,  as  it  has  done  in 
a  mode  which  he  did  not  design.  This 
was  his  estilo  culto,  as  it  was  usually  call- 
ed, or  highly-polished  phraseology,  where- 
in every  word  seems  to  have  been  out  of 
its  natural  place.  "  In  fulfilment  of  this 
object,"  says  Bouterwek,  "  he  formed  for 
himself,  with  the  most  laborious  assiduity, 
a  style  as  uncommon  as  affected,  and  op- 
posed to  all  the  ordinary  rules  of  the  Span- 
ish language,  either  in  prose  or  verse.  He 
particularly  endeavoured  to  introduce  into 
his  native  tongue  the  intricate  construc- 
tions of  the  Greek  and  Latin,  though  such 
an  arrangement  of  words  had  never  been 
attempted  in  Spanish  composition.  He 
consequently  found  it  necessary  to  invent 
a  particular  system  of  punctuation,  in  or- 
der to  render  the  sense  of  his  verses  in- 
telligible. Not  satisfied  with  this  patch- 
work kind  of  phraseology,  he  affected  to 
attach  an  extraordinary  depth  of  meaning 
to  each  word,  and  to  diffuse  an  air  of  su- 
perior dignity  over  his  whole  style.  In 
Gongora's  poetiy  the  most  common  words 
received  a  totally  new  signification  ;  and, 
in  order  to  impart  perfection  to  his  estilo 
culto,  he  summoned  all  his  mythological 
learning  to  his  aid."*  "  Gongora,"  says 
an  English  writer,  "  was  the  founder  of  a 
sect  in  literature.  The  style  called  in 
Castilian  cultismo  owes  its  origin  to  him. 
This  affectation  consists  in  using  language 
so  pedantic,  metaphors  so  strained,  and 
constructions  so  involved,  that  few  read- 
ers have  the  knowledge  requisite  to  un- 
derstand the  words,  and  still  fewer  inge- 
nuity to  discover  the  allusion,  or  patience 
to  unravel  the  sentences.  These  authors 
do  not  avail  themselves  of  the  invention 
of  letters  for  the  purpose  of  conveying, 
but  of  concealing  their  ideas. "f 

19.   The   Gongorists  formed  a  strong 
party  in  literature,  and  carried  The  schools 
with  them  the  public  voice.    If  formed  by 
we  were  to  believe  some  writers  llltn- 
of  the  seventeenth  century,  he  was  the 
greatest  poet  of  Spain.J    The  age  of  Cer- 


*  Bouterwek,  p.  434. 

t  Lord  Holland's  Lope  de  Vega,  p.  64. 

j  Dieze,  p.  250.  Nicolas  Antonio,  to  the  disgrace 
of  his  judgment,  maintains  this  with  the  most  ex- 
travagant eulogy  on  Gongora ;  and  Baillet  copies 
him  ;  but  the  next  age  unhesitatingly  reversed  the 
sentence.  The  Portuguese  have  laid  claim  to  the 
estilo  culto  as  their  property  ;  and  one  of  their  wri- 
ters who  practises  it,  Manuel  de  Faria  y  Sousa, 
gives  Don  Sebastian  the  credit  of  having  been  the 
first  who  wrote  it  in  prose. 


170 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


vantes  was  over,  nor  was  there  vitality 
enough  in  the  criticism  of  the  reign  of 
Philip  IV.  to  resist  the  contagion.  Two 
sects  soon  appeared  among  these  cultoris- 
tos ;  one  who  retained  that  name,  and,  like 
their  master,  affected  a  certain  precision 
of  style ;  another,  called  conceptistos,  which 
went  still  greater  lengths  in  extravagance, 
desirous  only  of  expressing  absurd  ideas 
in  unnatural  language.*  The  prevalence 
of  such  a  disease,  for  no  other  analogy  can 
so  fitly  be  used,  would  seem  to  have  been 
a  bad  presage  for  Spain ;  but,  in  fact,  like 
other  diseases,  it  did  but  make  the  tour  of 
Europe,  and  rage  worse  in  some  countries 
than  in  others.  It  had  spent  itself  in 
France,  when  it  was  at  its  height  in  Italy 
and  England.  I  do  not  perceive  the  close 
connexion  of  the  estilo  culto  of  Gongora 
with  that  of  Marini.  whom  both  Bouter- 
wek  and  Lord  Holland  suppose  to  have 
formed  his  own  taste  on  the  Spanish 
school.  It  seems  rather  too  severe  an 
imputation  on  that  most  ingenious  and 
fertile  poet,  who,  as  has  already  been  ob- 
served, has  no  fitter  parallel  than  Ovid. 
The  strained  metaphors  of  the  Adone  are 
easily  collected  by  critics,  and  seem  ex- 
travagant in  juxtaposition,  but  they  recur 
only  at  intervals  ,  while  those  of  Gongora 
are  studiously  forced  into  every  line,  and 
are,  besides,  incomparably  more  refined  and 
obscure.  His  style,  indeed,  seems  to  be 
like  that  of  Lycophron,  without  the  excuse 
of  that  prophetical  mystery  which  breathes 
a  certain  awfulness  over  the  symbolic  lan- 
guage of  the  Cassandra.  Nor  am  I  con- 
vinced that  our  own  metaphysical  poetry 
in  the  reigns  of  James  and  Charles  had 
much  to  do  with  either  Marini  or  Gongo- 
ra, except  as  it  bore  marks  of  the  same 
vice,  a  restless  ambition  to  excite  wonder 
bv  overstepping  the  boundaries  of  nature. 


SECTION  III. 

Malherbe.— Regnier.— Other  French  Poets. 

20.  MALHERBE,  a  very  few  of  whose  po- 
Waiherbe  eras  Belong  to  the  last  century, 
but  the  greater  part  to  the  first 
twenty  years  of  the  present,  gave  a  polish 
and  a  grace  to  the  lyric  poetry  of  France 
which  has  rendered  his  name  celebrated 
in  her  criticism.  The  public  taste  of  that 
country  is  (or,  I  should  rather  say,  used 
to  be)  more  intolerant  of  defects  in  poetry 
than  rigorous  in  its  demands  of  excellence. 
Malherbe,  therefore,  who  substituted  a  reg- 
ular and  accurate  versification,  a  style  pure 

*  Bouterwek,  p.  438. 


and  generally  free  from  pedantic  or  collo- 
quial phrases,  and  a  sustained  tone  of  what 
were  reckoned  elevated  thoughts,  for  the 
more  unequal  strains  of  the  sixteenth  cen- 
tury, acquired  a  reputation  which  may  lead 
some  of  his  readers  to  disappointment. 
And  this  is  likely  to  be  increased  by  a 
very  few  lines  of  great  beauty  which  are 
known  by  heart.  These  stand  too  much 
alone  in  his  poems.  In  general,  we  find 
in  them  neither  imagery  nor  sentiment 
that  yield  us  delight.  He  is  less  mytho- 
logical, less  affected,  less  given  to  frigid 
hyperboles  than  his  predecessors,  but  far 
too  much  so  for  any  one  accustomed  to 
real  poetry.  In  the  panegyrical  odes  Mal- 
herbe displays  some  felicity  and  skill  -, 
the  poet  of  kings  and  courtiers,  he  wisely, 
perhaps,  wrote,  even  when  he  could  have 
written  better,  what  kings  and  courtiers 
would  understand  and  reward.  Polished 
and  elegant,  his  lines  seldom  pass  the 
conventional  tone  of  poetry ;  and,  while 
he  is  never  original,  he  is  rarely  impress- 
ive. Malherbe  may  stand  in  relation  to 
Horace  as  Chiabrera  does  to  Pindar :  the 
analogy'is  not  very  close ;  but  he  is  far 
from  deficient  in  that  calm  philosophy 
which  forms  the  charm  of  the  Roman 
poet;  and  we  are  willing  to  believe  thai 
he  sacrificed  his  time  reluctantly  to  the 
praises  of  the  great.  It  may  be  suspected 
that  he  wrote  verses  for  others  ;  a  prac- 
tice not  unusual,  I  believe,  among  these 
courtly  rhymers ;  at  least  his  Alcandre 
seems  to  be  Henry  IV.,  Chrysanthe  or 
Oranthe  the  Princess  of  Conde.  He 
seems  himself,  in  some  passages,  to  have 
affected  gallantry  towards  Mary  of  Medi- 
cis,  which  at  that  time  was  not  reckoned 
an  impertinence.  It  is  hardly,  perhaps, 
worth  mentioning,  that  Malherbe  uses  lines 
of  an  uneven  number  of  syllables  ;  an  in- 
novation, as  I  believe  it  was,  that  has  had 
no  success. 

21.  Bouterwek  has  criticised  Malherbe 
with  some  justice,  but  with  great-  criticisms 
er  severity.*  He  deems  him  no  upon  liis 
poet,  which,  in  a  certain  sense,  is  P0611^- 
surely  true.  But  we  narrow  our  defini- 
tion of  poetry  too  much  when  we  exclude 
from  it  the  versification  of  good  sense  and 
select  diction.  This  may  probably  be 
ascribed  to  Malherbe ;  though  Bouhours, 
an  acute  and  somewhat  rigid  critic,  has 
pointed  out  some  passages  which  he 
deems  nonsensical.  Another  writer  of 
the  same  age,  Rapin,  whose  own  taste 
was  not  very  glowing,  observes  that  there 
is  much  prose  in  Malherbe  ;  and  that,  well 
as  he  merits  to  be  called  correct,  he  is  a 

*  Vol.  v.,  p.  238. 


FROM  1600  TO  1650. 


171 


little  too  desirous  of  appearing  so,  and  of 
ten  becomes  frigid.*     Boileau  has  extollec 
him,  perhaps,  somewhat  too  highly,  anc 
La  Harpe  is  inclined  to  the  same  side 
but  in  the  modern  state  of  French  criti- 
cism, the  danger  is  that  the  Malherbe 
will  be  too  much  depreciated. 

22.  The  satires  of  Regnier  have  been 
Satires  of  highly  praised  by  Boileau,  a  com- 
Rognier.    petent  judge,  no    doubt,  in  such 
matters.     Some  have  preferred  Regnier 
even  to  himself,  and  found  in  this  old  Ju- 
venal of  France  a  certain  stamp  of  satiri- 
cal genius  which  the  more  polished  critic 
wanted. f     These  satires   are  unlike   al 
other  French  poetry  of  the  age  of  Henry 
IV. ;  the  tone  is  vehement,  somewhat  rug- 
ged and  coarse,  and  reminds  us  a  little  of 
his  contemporaries  Hall  and  Donne,  whom, 
however,  he  will  generally  and  justly  be 
thought  much  to  excel.     Some  of  his  sa- 
tires are  borrowed  from  Ovid  or  from  the 
Italians. J    They  have  been  called  gross 
and  licentious ;  but  this  only  applies  to 
one  ;  the  rest  are  unexceptionable.     Reg- 
nier, who  had  probably  some  quarrel  with 
Malherbe,  speaks  with  contempt  of  his 
elaborate  polish.    But  the  taste  of  France, 
and  especially  of  that  highly  cultivated 
nobility  who  formed  the  court  of  Louis 
XIII.  and  his  son,  no  longer  endured  the 
rude,  though  sometimes  animated,  versifi- 
cation of  the  older  poets.     Next  to  Mal- 
Racan.      herbe  in  reputation  stood  Racan 
Mi.vnard.  and  Maynard,  both  more  or  less 
of  his  school.     Of  these  it  was  said  by 
their  master  that  Racan  wanted  the  dili- 
gence of  Maynard,  as  Maynard  did  the 
spirit  of  Racan,  and  that  a  good   poet 
might  be  made  out  of  the  two.fy     A  for- 
eigner will,  in  general,  prefer  the  former, 
who  seems  to  have  possessed  more  ima- 
gination and  sensibility,  and  a  keener  rel- 
ish for  rural  beauty.     Maynard's  verses, 
according  to  Pelisson,  have  an  ease  and 
elegance  that  few  can  imitate,  which  pro- 
ceeds from  his  natural  and  simple  con- 
struction.!    He  had  more  success  in  epi- 
gram than  in  his  sonnets,  which  Boileau 
has  treated  with  little  respect.     Nor  does 


*  Reflexions  sur  la  Poetique,  p.  147.  Malherbe 
a  este  le  premier  qui  nous  a  remis  dans  le  bon  che- 
inin,  joignant  la  purite  au  grand  style ;  maiscomme 
il  commenca  cetie  maniere,  il  ne  put  la  porter  jus- 
ques  dans  sa  perfection  ;  il  y  a  bien  de  la  prose  dans 
ses  vers.  In  another  place  he  says,  Malherbe  est 
exact  et  correct  ;  mais  il  ne  hazarde  rien,  et  par 
I'envie  qu'il  a  d'etre  trop  sage,  il  est  souvent  froid, 
p.  209. 

t  Bouterwek,  p.  216.     La  Harpe.    Biogr.  Univ. 

j  Niceron,  xi.,  397. 

()  Pelisson,  Hist,  de  1'Academie,  i.,  260.  Baillet, 
Jugemens  des  Savans  (Poetes),  n.  1510.  La  Harpe, 
Cours  de  Litterature.  Bouterwek,  v.,  260. 

II  Idem. 


he  speak  better  of  MalleviJe,  who  chose 
no  other  species  of  verse,  but  seldom  pro- 
duced a  finished  piece,  though  not  deficient 
in  spirit  and  delicacy.  Viaud,  more  fre- 
quently known  by  the  name  of  Theophile, 
a  writer  of  no  great  elevation  of  style,  is 
not  destitute  of  imagination.  Such,  at 
least,  is  the  opinion  of  Rapin  and  Bouter- 
wek.* 

23.  The  poems  of  Gombauld  were,  in 
general,  published  before  the  middle  of  the 
century ;  his  epigrams,  which  are  most  es- 
teemed, in  1657.  These  are  often  lively 
and  neat.  But  a  style  of  playfulness  and 
gayety  had  been  introduced  by  Voi-  Voiture> 
ture.  French  poetry  under  Ron- 
sard  and  his  school,  and  even  that  of  Mal- 
herbe, had  lost  the  lively  tone  of  Marot, 
and  became  serious  almost  to  severity. 
Voiture,  with  an  apparent  ease  and  grace, 
though  without  the  natural  air  of  the  old 
writers,  made  it  once  more  amusing.  In 
reality,  the  style  of  Voiture  is  artificial 
and  elaborate,  but,  like  his  imitator  Prior 
among  us,  he  has  the  skill  to  disguise  thia 
from  the  reader.  He  must  be  admitted  to 
have  had,  in  verse  as  well  as  prose,  a  con- 
siderable influence  over  the  taste  of 
France.  He  wrote  to  please  women,  and 
women  are  grateful  when  they  are  pleas- 
ed. Sarrazin,  says  his  biographer, 
though  less  celebrated  than  Voi- 
ture, deserves,  perhaps,  to  be  rated  above 
him  ;  with  equal  ingenuity,  he  is  far  more 
natural.f  The  German  historian  of  French 
literature  has  spoken  less  respectfully  of 
Sarrazin,  whose  verses  are  the  most  in- 
ipid  rhymed  prose,  such  as  he  not  unhap- 
pily calls  toilet-poetry. J  This  is  a  style 
which  finds  little  meFcy  on  the  right  bank 
of  the  Rhine ;  but  the  French  are  better 
udges  of  the  merit  of  Sarrazin. 


SECTION  IV. 

Rise  of  Poetry  in  Germany.— Opitz  and  his  follow- 
ers.— Dutch  Poets. 

24.   THE  German  language  had  never 
)een  more  despised  by  the  learn-  r,ow  state  of 
3d  and  the  noble  than  at  the  be-  German  iit- 
jinning  of  the  seventeenth  cen-  er 
,ury,  which  seems  to  be  the  lowest  point 
n  its  native  literature.     The  capacity  was 


*  Bouterwek,  252.     Rapin  says,  Theophile   a 
'imagination  grande  et  le  sens  petit.    II  a  des  har 
diesses  heureuses  a  force  de  se  permettre  tout.— 
inflexions  sur  la  Poetique,  p.  209. 
t  Biogr.  Univ.     Baillet,  n.  1532. 
t  Bouterwek,  v.,  256.     Specimens  of  all  these 
ioets  will  be  found  in  the  collection  of  Auguis,  voL 
ri. :  and  I  must  own,  that,  with  the  exoaptiuOf  <? 
Malherbe,  Regnier,  and  one  ot  two  mor«?,  tny  own 
acquaintance  with  them  extends  littte  faribei. 


172 

not  wanting;   many  wrote   Latin  verse 
with  success  ;  the  collection  made  by  Gru- 
ter  is  abundant  in  these  cultivators  of 
foreign  tongue,  several  of  whom  belong 
to  the   close  of  the  preceding  age.     But 
among  these  it  is  said  that  whoever  es- 
sayed to  write  their  own  language  did  but 
fail,  and  the  instances  adduced  are  very 
few.     The  upper  ranks  began  about  thi 
time  to  speak  French  in  common  society ; 
the  burghers,  as  usual,  strove  to  imitate 
them,  and,  what  was  far  worse,  it  became 
the  mode   to  intermingle   French  words 
with  German ;  not  singly  and  sparingly, 
as  has  happened  in  other  times  and  coun- 
tries, but  in  a  jargon  affectedly  piebald 
4  Literary    and  macaronic.    Some  hope  might 
Societies,  have  been  founded  on  the  literary 
academies  which,  in  emulation  of  Italy, 
sprung  up  in  this  period.     The  oldest  is 
The  Fruitful  Society  (die  fruchtbringende 
Gesellschaft),  known  also  as  the  order  of 
Palms,  established  at  Weimar  in  1617.* 
Five  princes  enrolled  their  names  at  the 
beginning.     It  held  forth  the  laudable  pur- 
pose of  purifying  and  correcting  the  moth- 
er tongue  and  of  promoting  its  literature, 
after  the  manner  of  the  Italian  academies. 
But  it  is  not  unusual  for  literary  associa- 
tions to  promise  much  and  fail  of  perform- 
ance ;  one  man  is  more  easily  found  to  lay 
down  a  good  plan  than  many  to  co-operate 
in  its  execution.     Probably  this  was  mere- 
ly the  scheme  of  some  more  gifted  individ- 
ual, perhaps  Werder,  who  translated  Ari- 
osto  and  Tasso  ;f  for  little  good  was  ef- 
fected by  the  institution.     Nor  did  several 
others  which,  at  different  times  in  the  sev- 
enteenth century,  arose  over  Germany,  de- 
serve more  praise.     They  copied  the  acad- 
emies of  Italy  in  their  quaint  names  and 
titles,  in  their  by-laws,  their  petty  cer- 
emonials and    symbolic   distinctions,   to 
which,  as  we  always  find  in  these  self- 
elected  societies,  they  attached  vast  im- 
portance, and  thought  themselves  superior 
to  the   world  by  doing  nothing  for    it. 
"They  are  gone,"  exclaims   Bouterwek, 
"  and  have  left  no  clear  vestige  of  their 
existence."     Such  had  been  the  meister- 
singers  before  them,  and  little  else  in  ef- 
fect were  the  Academies,  in  a  more  genial 
soil,  of  their  own  age.     Notwithstanding 
this,  though  I  am  compelled  to  follow  the 
historian  of  German  literature,  it  must 
strike  us  that  these  societies  seem  to  man- 
ifest a  public  esteem  for  something  intel- 
lectual, which  they  knew  not  precisely 
how  to  attain;  and  it  is  to  be  observed 
that  several  of  the  best  poets  in  the  sev- 
enteenth century  belonged  to  them. 


Bouterwek,  x.,'35. 


t  Id.,  p.  29. 


25.  A  very  small  number  of  poets,  such 
as  Meckerlin  and  Spee,  in  the  early  „  . 
part  of  the  seventeenth  century, 
though  with  many  faults  in  point  of  taste, 
have  been  commemorated  by  the  modern 
historians  of  literature.  But  they  were 
wholly  eclipsed  by  one  whom  Germany 
regards  as  the  founder  of  her  poetic  liter- 
ature, Martin  Opitz,  a  native  of  Silesia, 
honoured  with  a  laurel  crown  by  the  em- 
peror in  1628,  and  raised  to  offices  of  dis- 
tinction and  trustxin  several  courts.  The 
national  admiration  of  Opitz  seems  to 
have  been  almost  enthusiastic  ;  yet  Opitz 
was  far  from  being  the  poet  of  enthusi- 
asm. Had  he  been  such,  his  age  might 
not  have  understood  him.  His  taste  was 
French  and  Dutch ;  two  countries  of 
which  the  poetry  was  pure  and  correct,  but 
not  imaginative.  No  great  elevation,  no 
energy  of  genius  will  be  found  in  this 
German  Heinsius  and  Malherbe.  Opitz 
displayed,  however,  another  kind  of  ex- 
cellence. He  wrote  the  language  with  a 
purity  of  idiom,  in  which  Luther  alone, 
whom  he  chose  as  his  model,  was  superi- 
or ;  he  gave  more  strength  to  the  versifica- 
tion, and  paid  a  regard  to  the  collocation 
of  syllables  according  to  their  quantity,  or 
length  of  time  required  for  articulation, 
which  the  earlier  poets  had  neglected. 
He  is  therefore  reckoned  the  inventor  of 
a  rich  and  harmonious  rhythm ;  and  he 
also  rendered  the  Alexandrine  verse  much 
more  common  than  before.*  His  verse  is 
good ;  he  writes  as  one  conversant  with 
the  ancients  and  with  mankind ;  if  he  is 
too  didactic  and  learned  for  a  poet  in  the 
higher  sense  of  the  word ;  if  his  taste  ap- 
pears fettered  by  the  models  he  took  for 
imitation;  if  he  even  retarded,  of  which 
we  can  hardly  be  sure,  the  development 
of  a  more  genuine  nationality  in  German 
iterature,  he  must  still  be  allowed,  in  a 
"avourable  sense,  to  have  made  an  epoch 
n  its  history.f 


*  Bouterwek  (p.  94)  thinks  this  no  advantage ; 
a  rhymed  prose  in  Alexandrines  overspread  the  Ger- 
man literature  of  the  seventeenth  and  first  part  of 
the  eighteenth  century. 

t  Bouterwek,  x.,  89-119.  has  given  an  elaborate 
critique  of  the  poetry  of  Opitz.  "  He  is  the  father, 
lot  of  German  poetry,  but  of  the  modern  German 
anguage  of  poetry,  der  neueren  deutschen  dichter- 
sprache,  p.  93.  The  fame  of  Opitz  spread  beyond 
lis  country,  little  as  his  language  was  familiar. 
STon  periit  Germania,  Grotius  writes  to  him  in 
1631,Opitidoctissime,quastehabetlocupletissimum 
estem,  quid  lingua  Germanica,  quid  ingenia  Ger- 
manica  valeant.— Epist.  272.  And  afterward,  in 
.638,  thanking  him  for  the  present  of  his  translation 
of  the  Psalms :  Dignus  erat  rex  poeta  interprets 
jerrnanorum  poetarum  rege ;  nihil  enim  tibi  blan- 
diens  dico  ;  ita  sentio  a  te  primum  Germanics  po~ 
si  formam  datam  et  habitum  quo  cum  aliis  genti 


FROM  1600  TO  1050. 


173 


26.  Opitz  is  reckoned  the  founder  of 
Hisfoi-  what  was  called  the  first  Silesian 
lowers,  school,  rather  so  denominated  from 
him  than  as  determining  the  birthplace  of 
its  poets.  They  were  chiefly  lyric,  but 
more  in  the  line  of  songs  and  short  effu- 
sions in  trochaic  metre  than  of  the  regular 
ode,  and  sometimes  display  much  spirit 
and  feeling.  The  German  song  always 
seems  to  bear  a  resemblance  to  the  Eng- 
lish ;  the  identity  of  metre  and  rhythm 
conspires  with  what  is  more  essential,  a 
certain  analogy  of  sentiment.  Many,  how- 
ever, of  Opitz's  followers,  like  himself,  took 
Holland  for  their  Parnassus,  and  translated 
their  songs  from  Dutch.  Fleming  was 
distinguished  by  a  genuine  feeling  for  lyric 
poetry  ;  he  made  Opitz  his  model,  but,  had 
he  not  died  young,  would  probably  have 
gone  beyond  him,  being  endowed  by  na- 
ture with  a  more  poetical  genius.  Gryph, 
or  Gryphius,  who  belonged  to  the  Fruitful 
Society,  and  bore  in  that  the  surname  of 
the  immortal,  with  faults  that  strike  the 
reader  in  every  page,  is  also  superior  in 
fancy  and  warmth  to  Opitz.  But  Gryph 
is  better  known  in  German  literature  by 
his  tragedies.  The  hymns  of  the  Lutheran 
Church  are  by  no  means  the  lowest  form 
of  German  poetry.  They  have  been  the 
work  of  every  age  since  the  Reformation ; 
but  Dach  and  Gerhard,  who,  especially  the 
latter,  excelled  in  these  devotional  songs, 
lived  about  the  middle  of  the  seventeenth 
century.  The  shade  of  Luther  seemed  to 
protect  the  Church  from  the  profanation  of 
bad  taste  ;  or,  as  we  should  rather  say,  it 
was  the  intense  theopathy  of  the  German 
nation,  and  the  simple  majesty  of  their 
ecclesiastical  music.* 

27.  It  has  been  the  misfortune  of  the 
Dutch  Dutch,  a  great  people,  a  people  fer- 
poetry.  tile  of  men  of  various  ability  and 
erudition,  a  people  of  scholars,  of  theolo- 
gians and  philosophers,  of  mathematicians, 
of  historians,  of  painters,  and,  we  may 
add,  of  poets,  that  these  last  have  been  the 
mere  violets  of  the  shade,  and  have  pecu- 
liarly suffered  by  the  narrow  limits  within 
which  their  language  has  been  spoken  or 
known.  The  Flemish  dialect  of  the  south- 
bus  possit  contenders. — Ep.  999.  Baillet  observes, 
that  Opitz  passes  for  the  best  of  German  poets,  and 
the  first  who  gave  rules  to  that  poetry,  and  raised 
it  to  the  state  it  had  since  reached  ;  so  that  he  is 
rather  to  be  accounted  its  father  than  its  improver. 
— Jugemens  des  Savans  (Poetes),  n.  1436.  But 
reputation  is  transitory ;  though  ten  editions  of  the 
poems  of  Opitz  were  published  within  the  seven- 
teenth century,  which  Bouterwek  thinks  much  for 
Germany  at  that  time,  though  it  would  not  be  so 
much  in  some  countries,  scarce  any  one,  except 
the  lovers  of  old  literature,  now  asks  for  these  ob- 
solete productions. — P.  90. 

*  Bouterwek,  x.,  218.    Eichhorn,  iv.,  888. 


ern  Netherlands  might  have  contributed 
to  make  up  something  like  a  national  lit- 
erature, extensive  enough  to  be  respected 
in  Europe,  if  those  provinces  which  now 
affect  the  somewhat  ridiculous  name  of 
Belgium  had  been  equally  fertile  of  talents 
with  their  neighbours. 

28.  The  golden  age  of  Dutch  literature 
is  this  first  part  of  the  seventeenth 
century.     Their    chief   poets    are  si"esel- 
Spiegel,  Hooft,  Cats,  and  Vondel.      The 
first,  who  has  been  styled  the  Dutch  En- 
nius,  died  in  1612:  his  principal  poem,  of 
an  ethical  kind,  is  posthumous,  but  may 
probably  have  been  written  towards  the 
close  of  the  preceding  century.     "  The 
style  is  vigorous  and  concise  ;  it  is  rich 
in  imagery  and  powerfully  expressed,  but 
is  deficient  in  elegance  and  perspicuity."* 
Spiegel  had  rendered  much  service  to  his 
native  tongue,  and  was  a  member  of  a 
literary  academy  which  published  a  Dutch 
grammar  in  1584.     Coornhert  and  Dousa, 
with  others  known  to  fame,  were  his  col- 
leagues ;    and  be  it  remembered  to  the 
honour  of  Holland,  that  in  Germany,  or 
England,  or  even  in  France,  there  was,  as 
yet,  no  institution  of  this  kind.     But  as 
Holland  at  the  end  of  the  sixteenth  cen- 
tury, and  for  many  years  afterward,,was 
pre-eminently  the  literary  country  of  Eu- 
rope, it  is  not  surprising  that  some  en- 
deavours were  made,  though  unsuccess- 
fully as  to  European  renown,  to  cultivate 
the   native  language.     This   language  is 
also  more  soft,  though  less  sonorous  than 
the  German. 

29.  Spiegel  was  followed  by  a  more 
celebrated  poet,  Peter  Hooft,  who  Hooft 
gave   sweetness   and   harmony  to  cats. 
Dutch  verse.     "  The  great  creative  Vondel- 
power  of  poetry,"  it  has  been  said,  "he 
did  not  possess ;  but  his  language  is  cor- 
rect, his  style  agreeable,  and  he  did  much 
to  introduce  a  better  epoch."f     His  ama- 
tory and  Anacreontic  lines   have  never 
been  excelled  in  the  language;  and  Hooft 
is  also  distinguished  both  as  a  dramatist 
and  an  historian.     He  has  been  called  the 
Tacitus  of  Holland.     But,  here,  again  his 
praises  must,  by  the  generality,  be  taken 
upon  trust.     Cats  is  a  poet  of  a  different 
class  ;  ease,  abundance,  simplicity,  clear- 
ness, and  purity  are  the  qualities  of  his 
style  :  his  imagination  is  gay,  his  morality 
popular  and  useful.     No  one  was  more 
read  than  Father  Cats,  as  the  people  call 
him ;  but  he  is  often  trifling  and  monoto- 
nous.   Cats,  though  he  wrote  for  the  mul- 
titude, whose    descendants    still   almost 
know  his  poems   by  heart,  was  a  mau 


*  Biogr.  Univ. 


fid. 


174 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


whom  the  republic  held  in  high  esteem ; 
twice  ambassador  in  England,  he  died 
great  pensionary  of  Holland  in  1651.  Von- 
del,  a  native  of  Colonge,  but  the  glory,  as 
he  is  deemed,  of  Dutch  poetry,  was  best 
known  as  a  tragedian.  In  his  tragedies, 
the  lyric  part,  the  choruses  which  he  re- 
tained after  the  ancient  model,  have  been 
called  the  sublimest  of  odes.  But  some 
have  spoken  less  highly  of  Vondel.* 

30.  Denmark  had  no  literature  in  the  j 
Danish  natiye  language,  except  a  collection 
poetry.  of  old  ballads,  full  of  Scandinavian 
legends,  till  the  present  period;  and  in 
this  it  does  not  appear  that  she  had  more 
than  one  poet,  a  Norwegian  bishop  named 
Arrebo.  Nothing,  I  believe,  was  written 
in  Swedish.  Sclavonian  writers  there 
were ;  but  we  know  so  little  of  those 
languages,  that  they  cannot  enter,  at  least 
during  so  distant  a  period,  into  the  history 
of  European  literature. 


SECT.  V.     ON  ENGLISH  POETRY. 

Imitators  of  Spenser. — The  Fletchers. — Philosophi- 
cal Poets. —  Denham. — Donne  —  Cowley. — His- 
torical and  Narrative  Poets. — Shakspeare's  Son- 
nets.— Lyric  Poets. — Milton's  Lycidas,  and  other 
Poems. 

31.  THE   English  poets  of  these   fifty 
English  poets  years  are  very  numerous,  and 
numerous  in   though  the  greater  part  are  not 
this  age.        familiar  to  the  general  reader, 
they  form  a  favourite  study  of  those  who 
cultivate  our  poetry,  and  are  sought  by  all 
collectors  of  scarce  and  interesting  litera- 
ture.    Many  of  them  have,  within  half  a 
century,  been   reprinted  separately,  and 
many  more  in  the  useful  and  copious  col- 
lections of  Anderson,  Chalmers,  and  other 
editors.     Extracts  have  also  been  made 
by  Headley,  Ellis,  Campbell,  and  Southey. 
It  will  be  convenient  to  arrange  them  rath- 
er according  to  the  schools  to  which  they 
belonged  than  in  mere  order  of  chronol- 
ogy- 

32.  Whatever  were  the  misfortunes  of 
Phineas    Spenser's  life,   whatever   neglect 
Fletcher,  he  might  have  experienced  at  the 
hands  of  a  statesman  grown  old  in  cares, 
which  renders  a  man  insensible  to  song, 
his  spirit  might  be  consoled  by  the  pro- 
digious reputation  of  the  Faery  Queen. 
He  was  placed  at  once  by  his  country 
above   all  the  great  Italian  names,  and 
next  to  Virgil  among  the  ancients  ;  it  was 
a  natural  consequence  that  some  should 

*  Foreign  Quart.  Rev.,  vol.  iv.,  p.  49.  For  this 
short  account  of  the  Dutch  poets  I  am  indebted  to 
Eichhorn,  vol.  iv.,  part  1,  and  to  the  Biographic 
TJniverselle. 


imitate  what  they  so  deeply  reverrnced. 
An  ardent  admiration  of  Spenser  inspired 
the  genius  of  two  young  brothers,  Phineas 
and  Giles  Fletcher.  The  first,  very  soon 
after  the  queen's  death,  as  some  allusions 
to  Lord  Essex  seem  to  denote,  composed, 
though  he  did  not  so  soon  publish,  a 
poem  entitled  The  Purple  Island.  By  this 
strange  name  he  expressed  a  subject  more 
strange ;  it  is  a  minute  and  elaborate  ac- 
count of  the  body  and  mind  of  man. 
Through  five  cantos  the  reader  is  regaled 
with  nothing  but  allegorical  anatomy,  in 
the  details  of  which  Phineas  seems  toler- 
ably skilled,  evincing  a  great  deal  of  in- 
genuity in  diversifying  his  metaphors,  and 
in  presenting  the  delineation  of  his  ima- 
ginary island  with  as  much  justice  as  pos- 
sible to  the  allegory,  without  obtruding  it 
on  the  reader's  view.  In  the  sixth  canto 
he  rises  to  the  intellectual  and  moral  facul- 
ties of  the  soul,  which  occupy  the  rest  of 
the  poem.  From  its  nature  it  is  insuper- 
ably wearisome  ;  yet  his  language  is  often 
very  poetical,  his  versification  harmonious, 
his  invention  fertile.  But  that  perpetual 
monotony  of  allegorical  persons,  which 
sometimes  displeases  us  even  in  Spenser, 
is  seldom  relieved  in  Fletcher ;  the  under- 
standing revolts  at  the  confused  crowd  of 
inconceivable  beings  in  a  philosophical 
poem  ;  and  the  justness  of  analogy,  which 
had  given  us  some  pleasure  in  the  anatomi- 
cal cantos,  is  lost  in  tedious  descriptions 
of  all  possible  moral  qualities,  which  can 
never  coexist  in  the  Purple  Island  of  one 
individual. 

33.  Giles  Fletcher,  brother  of  Phineas, 
in  Christ's  Victory  and  Triumph,  Giles 
though  his  subject  has  not  all  the  Fletcher, 
unity  that  might  be  desired,  had  a  manifest 
superiority  in  its  choice.  Each  uses  a 
stanza  of  his  own  ;  Phineas  one  of  seven 
lines,  Giles  one  of  eight.  This  poem  was 
published  in  1610.  Each  brother  alludes 
to  the  work  of  the  other,  which  must  be 
owing  to  the  alterations  made  by  Phineas 
in  his  Purple  Island,  written  probably  the 
first,  but  not  published,  I  believe,  till  1633. 
Giles  seems  to  have  more  vigour  than  his 
elder  brother ;  but  less  sweetness,  less 
smoothness,  and  more  affectation  in  his 
style.  This,  indeed,  is  deformed  by  words 
neither  English  nor  Latin,  but  simply  bar- 
barous ;  such  as  clamping,  eblazon,  depros- 
tr  ate,  purpured,  glitter  and,  and  many  others. 
They  both  bear  much  resemblance  to 
Spenser :  Giles  sometimes  ventures  to 
cope  with  him,  even  in  celebrated  pas- 
sages, such  as  the  description  of  the  Cave 
of  Despair.*  And  he  has  had  the  honour, 


Christ's  Viet,  and  Triumph,  ii.,  23 


FROM  1600  TO  1650. 


in  turn,  of  being  followed  by  Milton,  es- 
pecially in  the  first  meeting  of  our  Saviour 
with  Satan  in  the  Paradise  Regained.  Both 
of  these  brothers  are  deserving  of  much 
praise ;  they  were  endowed  with  minds 
eminently  poetical,  and  not  inferior  in 
imagination  to  any  of  their  contempora- 
ries. But  an  injudicious  taste,  and  an  ex- 
cessive fondness  for  a  style  which  the 
public  was  rapidly  abandoning,  that  of  al- 
legorical personification,  prevented  their 
powers  from  being  effectively  displayed. 

34.  Notwithstanding  the  popularity  of 
Phiiosopiu-  Spenser,  and  the  general  pride 
cai  poetry.  itl  his  name,  that  allegorical  and 
imaginative  school  of  poetry,  of  which  he 
was  the  greatest  ornament,  did  not  by  any 
means  exclude  a  different  kind.  The  Eng- 
lish, or  such  as  by  their  education  gave 
the  tone  in  literature,  had  become,  in  the 
latter  years  of  the  queen,  and  still  more 
under  her  successor,  a  deeply  thinking,  a 
Jearned,  a  philosophical  people.  A  sen- 
tentious reasoning,  grave,  subtle,  and  con- 
densed, or  the  novel  and  remote  analogies 
of  wit,  gained  praise  from  many  whom 
the  creations  of  an  excursive  fancy  could 
not  attract.  Hence  much  of  the  poetry 
of  James's  reign  is  distinguished  from 
that  of  Elizabeth,  except  perhaps  her  last 
years,  by  partaking  of  the  general  charac- 
ter of  the  age ;  deficient  in  simplicity, 
grace,  and  feeling,  often  obscure  and  pedan- 
tic, but  impressing  us  with  a  respect  for 
the  man  where  we  do  not  recognise  the 
poet.  From  this  condition  of  public  taste 
arose  two  schools  of  poetry,  different  in 
character,  if  not  unequal  in  merit,  but  both 
appeciling  to  the  reasoning  more  than  to 
the  imaginative  faculty  as  their  judge. 

35.  The  first  of  these  may  own  as  its 

Lord  Brooke    ^oun^er  S'r  <Tomi  £>avies>  whose 

poem  on  the  Immortality  of  the 
Soul,  published  in  1600,  has  had  its  due 
honour  in  our  former  volume.  Davies  is 
eminent  for  perspicuity  ;  but  this  cannot  be 
said  for  another  philosophical  poet,  Sir 
Fulk  Greville,  afterward  Lord  Brooke,  the 
bosom  friend  of  Sir  Philip  Sidney,  and 
once  the  patron  of  Jordano  Bruno.  The 
titles  of  Lord  Brooke's  poems,  A  Treatise 
of  Human  Learning,  A  Treatise  of  Mon- 
archy, A  Treatise  of  Religion,  An  Inquisi- 
tion upon  Fame  and  Honour,  lead  us  to 
anticipate  more  of  sense  than  fancy.  In 
this  we  are  not  deceived ;  his  mind  was 
pregnant  with  deep  reflection  upon  multi- 
farious learning,  but  he  struggles  to  give 
utterance  to  thoughts  which  he  had  not 
fully  endowed  with  words,  and  amid  the 
shackles  of  rhyme  and  metre  which  he 
had  not  learned  to  manage.  Hence,  of  all 
our  poets,  he  may  be  reckoned  the  most 


obscure;  in  aiming  at  condensation,  he 
becomes  elliptical  beyond  the  bounds  of 
the  language,  and  his  rhymes,  being  forced 
for  the  sake  of  sound,  leave  all  meaning 
behind.  Lord  Brooke's  poetry  is  chiefly 
worth  notice  as  an  indication  of  that  think- 
ing spirit  upon  political  science  which 
was  to  produce  the  riper  speculations  of 
Hobbes,  and  Harrington,  and  Locke. 

36.  This  argumentative  school  of  verse 
was  so  much  in  unison  with  the  character 
of  that  generation,  that  Daniel,  a  poet  of 
a  very  different  temper,  adopted  it  in  his 
panegyric  addressed  to  James  soon  after 
his  accession,  and  in  some  other  poems. 
It  had  an  influence  upon  others,  who  trod 
generally  in  a  different  track,  as  is  espe- 
cially perceived  in  Giles  Fletcher.     The 
Cooper's  Hill  of  Sir  John  Den-  Dcnham's 
ham,  published  in  1643,  belongs,  cooper's 
in  a  considerable  degree,  to  this  H'1L 
reasoning  class  of  poems.     It  is  also  de- 
scriptive, but  the  description  is  made  to 
slide  into  philosophy.     The  plan  is  origi- 
nal as  far  as  our  poetry  is  concerned,  and 
I  do  not  recollect  any  exception  in  other 
languages.    Placing  himself  upon  an  emi- 
nence not  distant  from  Windsor,  he  takes 
a  survey  of  the  scene :  he  finds  the  tower 
of  St.  Paul's  on  his  farthest  horizon,  the 
Castle  much  nearer,  and  the  Thames  at 
his  feet.     These,  with  the  ruins  of  an  ab- 
bey, supply,  in  turn,  materials  for  a  re- 
flecting rather  than  imaginative  mind,  and, 
with  a  stag-hunt  which  he  has  very  well 
described,  fill  up  the  canvass  of  a  poem  of 
no  great  length,  but  once  of  no  trifling 
reputation. 

37.  The  epithet  majestic  Denham,  con- 
ferred by  Pope,  conveys  rather  too  much ; 
jut  Cooper's  Hill  is  no  ordinary  poem. 
It  is  nearly  the  first  instance  of  vigorous 
and  rhythmical  couplets ;  for  Denham  is 

ncomparably  less   feeble   than   Browne, 
and  less  prosaic  than  Beaumont.     Close 
n  thought,  and  nervous  in  language  like 
Davies,  he  is  less  hard  and  less  monoto- 
lous  ;  his  cadences  are  animated  and  va- 
rious, perhaps  a  little  beyond  the  regulari- 
y  that  metre  demands ;  they  have  been 
;he  guide   to   the   finer  ear  of  Dryden. 
Those  who  cannot  endure  the  philosophic 
)oetry    must    ever   be   dissatisfied   with 
ooper's  Hill ;  no  personification,  no  ar- 
dent words,  few  metaphors  beyond  the 
ommon   use    of   speech,    nothing    that 
warms,  or  melts,  or  fascinates  the  heart, 
i  is  rare  to  find  lines  of  eminent  beauty 
n  Denham,  and  equally  so  to  be  struck 
)y  any  one  as  feeble  or  low.     His  lan- 
guage is  always  well  chosen  and  perspic- 
uous, free  from  those  strange   turns  of 
xpression,  frequent  in  our  older  poets, 


176 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


where,  the  reader  is  apt  to  suspect  some 
error  of  the  press,  so  irreconcilable  do 
they  seem  with  grammar  or  meaning. 
The  expletive  do,  which  the  best  of  his 
predecessors  use  freely,  seldom  occurs  in 
Denham  ;  and  he  has,  in  other  respects, 
brushed  away  the  rust  of  languid  and  in- 
effective redundancies  which  have  ob- 
structed the  popularity  of  men  with  more 
native  genius  than  himself.* 

38.  Another  class  of  poets  in  the  reigns 
Poets  called  °f  James  and  his  son  were  those 
metaphysi-  whom  Johnson  has  called  the 
cal-  metaphysical ;  a  name  rather 

more  applicable,  in  the  ordinary  use  of 
the  word,  to  Davies  and  Brooke.  These 
were  such  as  laboured  after  conceits,  or 
novel  turns  of  thought,  usually  false,  and 
resting  upon  some  equivocation  of  lan- 
guage or  exceedingly  remote  analogy. 
This  style  Johnson  supposes  to  have 
been  derived  from  Marini.  But  Donne, 
its  founder,  as  Johnson  imagines,  in  Eng- 
land, wrote  before  Marini.  It  is,  in  fact, 
as  we  have  lately  observed,  the  style 
which,  though  Marini  has  earned  the  dis- 
creditable reputation  of  perverting  the 
taste  of  his  country  by  it,  had  been  gain- 
ing ground  through  the  latter  half  of  the 
sixteenth  century.  It  was,  in  a  more 
comprehensive  view,  one  modification  of 
that  vitiated  taste  which  sacrificed  all 
ease  and  naturalness  of  writing  and  speak- 
ing for  the  sake  of  display.  The  mytho- 
logical erudition  and  Grecisms  of  Ron- 
sard's  school,  the  Euphuism  of  that  of 
Lilly,  the  "estilo  culto"  of  Gongora, 
even  the  pedantic  quotations  of  Burton 
and  many  similar  writers,  both  in  Eng- 
land and  on  the  Continent,  sprang,  like 
the  concetti  of  the  Italians  and  of  their 
English  imitators,  from  the  same  source, 
a  dread  of  being  overlooked  if  they  paced 
on  like  their  neighbours.  And  when  a 


*   The    comparison    by   Denham    between   the 
Thames  and  his  own  poetry  was  once  celebrated  : 
Oh,  could  I  flow  like  thee,  awd  make  thy  stream 
My  bright  example,  as  it  is  my  theme, 
Though  deep,  yet  clear ;  though  gentle,  yet  not  dull ; 
Strong  without  rage,  without  o'erflowing  full. 

Johnson,  while  he  highly  extols  these  lines,  truly 
observes,  that  "  most  of  the  words  thus  artfully 
opposed  are  to  be  understood  simply  on  one  side 
of  the  comparison,  and  metaphorically  on  the  oth- 
er ;  and  if  there  be  any  language  which  does  not 
express  intellectual  operations  by  material  images, 
into  that  language  they  cannot  be  translated." 
Perhaps  these  metaphors  are  so  naturally  applied 
to  style,  that  no  language  of  a  cultivated  people  is 
without  them.  But  the  ground  of  objection  is,  in 
fact,  that  the  lines  contain  nothing  but  wit,  and 
that  wit  which  turns  on  a  play  of  words.  They 
are  rather  ingenious  in  this  respect,  and  remarka- 
bly harmonious,  which  is  probably  the  secret  of 
their  popularity ;  but,  as  poetry,  they  deserve  no 
great  praise. 


few  writers  had  set  the  example  of  suc- 
cessful faults,  a  bad  style,  where  no  sound 
principles  of  criticism  had  been  estab- 
lished, readily  gaining  ground,  it  became 
necessary  that  those  who  had  not  vigour 
enough  to  rise  above  the  fashion  should 
seek  to  fall  in  with  it.  Nothing  is  more 
injurious  to  the  cultivation  of  verse  than 
the  trick  of  desiring,  for  praise  or  profit, 
to  attract  those  by  poetry  whom  nature 
has  left  destitute  of  every  quality  which 
genuine  poetry  can  attract.  The  best, 
and  perhaps  the  only  secure  basis  for 
pullic  taste,  for  an  aesthetic  appreciation 
of  beauty,  in  a  court,  a  college,  a  city,  is 
so  general  a  diffusion  of  classical  knowl- 
edge, as,  by  rendering  the  finest  models 
familiar,  and  by  giving  them  a  sort  of  au- 
thority, will  discountenance  and  check  at 
the  outset  the  vicious  novelties  which  al- 
ways exert  some  influence  over  uneduca- 
ted minds.  But  this  was  not  yet  the  case 
in  England.  Milton  was  perhaps  the  first 
writer  who  eminently  possessed  a  genu- 
ine discernment  and  feeling  of  antiquity; 
though  it  may  be  perceived  in  Spenser, 
and  also  in  a  very  few  who  wrote  in 
prose. 

39.  Donne  is  generally  esteemed  the 
earliest,  as  Cowley  was  afterward 

the  most  conspicuous  model  of  this 
manner.  Many  instances  of  it,  however, 
occur  in  the  lighter  poetry  of  the  queen's 
reign.  Donne  is  the  most  inharmonious 
of  our  versifiers,  if  he  can  be  said  to  have 
deserved  such  a  name  by  lines  too  rugged 
to  seem  metre.  Of  his  earlier  poe°ms 
many  are  very  licentious  ;  the  later  are 
chiefly  devout.  Few  are  good  for  much  ; 
the  conceits  have  not  even  the  merit  of 
being  intelligible  ;  it  would  perhaps  be 
difficult  to  select  three  passages  that  we 
should  care  to  read  again. 

40.  The   second   of   these   poets   was 
Crashaw,  a  man  of  some  imagi- 
nation and  great  piety,  but  whose 
softness  of  heart,  united  with  feeble  judg- 
ment,  led   him   to   admire    and    imitate 
whatever  was  most  extravagant  in  the 
mystic   writings   of   Saint  Teresa.      He 
was,  more  than  Donne,  a  follower  of  Ma- 
rini, one  of  whose  poems,  The  Massacre 
of  the  Innocents,  he  translated  with  suc- 
cess.    It  is  difficult,  in  general,  to  find 
anything  in  Crashaw  that  bad  taste  has 
not  deformed.    His  poems  were  first  pub- 
lished in  1646. 

41.  In  the  next  year,   1647,  Cowley's 
Mistress  appeared;  the  most  cele- 
brated performance   of  the   mis- 
called metaphysical  poets.     It  is  a  series 
of  short  amatory  poems,  in  the  Italian 
style  of  the  age,  full  of  analogies  that 


FROM  1600  TO  1C50. 


177 


have  no  semblance  of  truth  except  from 
the  double  sense  of  words,  and  thought 
that  unite  the  coldness  of  subtlety  with 
the  hyperbolical  extravagance  of  counter- 
feited passion.  The  Anacreontic  lines, 
and  some  other  light  pieces  of  Cowley, 
have  a  spirit  and  raciness  very  unlike 
these  frigid  conceits ;  and  in  the  ode  on 
the  death  of  his  friend  Mr.  Harvey,  he 
gave  some  proofs  of  real  sensibility  and 
poetic  grace.  The  Pindaric  odes  of  Cow- 
ley  were  not  published  within  this  period. 
But  it  is  not  worth  while  to  defer  mention 
of  them.  They  contain,  like  all  his  po- 
etry, from  time  to  time,  very  beautiful 
lines,  but  the  faults  are  still  of  the  same 
kind  ;  his  sensibility  and  good  sense — nor 
has  any  poet  more — are  choked  by  false 
taste  ;  and  it  would  be  difficult  to  fix  on 
any  one  poem  in  which  the  beauties  are 
more  frequent  than  the  blemishes.  John- 
son has  selected  the  elegy  on  Crashaw  as 
the  finest  of  Cowley's  works.  It  begins 
with  a  very  beautiful  couplet,  but  I  con- 
fess that  very  little  else  seems,  to  my 
taste,  of  much  value.  The  Complaint, 
probably  better  known  than  any  other  po- 
em, appears  to  me  the  best  in  itself.  His 
disappointed  hopes  give  a  not  unpleasing 
melancholy  to  several  passages.  But  his 
Latin  ode  in  a  similar  strain  is  much  more 
perfect.  Cowley,  perhaps,  upon  the  whole, 
has  had  a  reputation  more  .above  his  de- 
serts than  any  English  poet ;  yet  it  is 
very  easy  to  perceive  that  some  who 
wrote  better  than  he  did  not  possess  so 
fine  a  genius.  Johnson  has  written  the 
life  of  Cowley  with  peculiar  care  ;  and 
as  his  summary  of  the  poet's  character  is 
more  favourable  than  my  own,  it  may  be 
candid  to  insert  it  in  this  place,  as  at 
least  very  discriminating,  elaborate,  and 
well  expressed. 

42.  "It  may  be  affirmed,  without  any  en- 
Johnson's  comiastic  fervour,  that  he  brought 
character  to  his  poetic  labours  a  mind  re- 
ar him.  piete  with  learning,  and  that  his 
pages  are  embellished  with  all  the  orna- 
ments which  books  could  supply  ;  that  he 
was  the  first  who  imparted  to  English 
numbers  the  enthusiasm  of  the  greater 
ode,  and  the  gayety  of  the  less  ;*  that  he 
was  equally  qualified  for  sprightly  sallies 
and  for  lofty  flights ;  that  he  was  among 
those  who  freed  translation  from  servility, 
and,  instead  of  following  his  author  at  a 
distance,  walked  by  his  side ;  and  that,  if 
he  left  versification  yet  improvable,  he 
left  likewise,  from  time  to  time,  such  spe- 


*  Was  not  M ikon's  Ode  on  the  Nativity  written 
as  early  as  any  of  Cowley's  ?  And  would  Johnson 
have  thought  Cowley  superior  in  gayety  to  Sir  John 
Suckling '! 

VOL.  II.— Z 


cimens  of  excellence  as  enabled  succeed- 
ing poets  to  improve  it." 

43.  The  poets  of  historical  or  fabulous 
narrative  belong  to  another  class.  N,,rrative 
Of  these  the  earliest  is  Daniel,  poets . 
whose  minor  poems  fall  partly  Danie'- 
within  the  sixteenth  century.  His  Histo- 
ry of  the  Civil  Wars  between  York  and 
Lancaster,  a  poem  in  eight  books,  was 
published  in  1604.  Faithfully  adhering  to 
truth,  which  he  does  not  suffer  so  much 
as  an  ornamental  episode  to  interrupt,  and 
equally  studious  to  avoid  the  bolder  fig- 
ures of  poetry,  it  is  not  surprising  that 
Daniel  should  be  little  read.  It  is,  indeed, 
certain  that  much  Italian  and  Spanish  po- 
etry, even  by  those  whose  name  has  once 
stood  rather  high,  depends  chiefly  upon 
merits  which  he  abundantly  possesses,  a 
smoothness  of  rhythm,  and  a  lucid  narra- 
tion in  simple  language.  But  that  which, 
from  the  natural  delight  in  sweet  sound,  is 
enough  to  content  the  ear  in  the  southern 
tongues,  will  always  seem  bald  and  tame 
in  our  less  harmonious  verse.  It  is  the 
chief  praise  of  Daniel,  and  must  have  con- 
tributed to  what  popularity  he  enjoyed  in 
his  own  age,  that  his  English  is  eminently 
pure,  free  from  affectation  of  archaism  and 
from  pedantic  innovation,  with  very  little 
that  is  now  obsolete.  Both  in  prose  and 
in  poetry,  he  is,  as  to  language,  among  the 
best  writers  of  his  time,  and  wanted  but  a 
greater  confidence  in  his  own  power,  or, 
to  speak  less  indulgently,  a  greater  share 
of  it,  to  sustain  his  correct  taste,  calm 
sense,  and  moral  feeling. 

44.  Next  to  Daniel  in  time,  and  much 
above  him  in  reach  of  mind,  we  niton's 
place  Michael  Drayton,  whose  Poiyoibion. 
Barons'  Wars  have  been  mentioned  under 
the  preceding  period,  but  whose  more  fa- 
mous work  was  published  partly  in  1613, 
and  partly  in  1622.  Drayton's  Poiyoibion 
is  a  poem  of  about  30,000  lines  in  length, 
written  in  Alexandrine  couplets,  a  meas- 
ure, from  its  monotony,  and  perhaps  from 
its  frequency  in  doggerel  ballads,  not  at 
all  pleasing  to  the  ear.  It  contains  a  to- 
pographical description  of  England,  illus- 
trated with  a  prodigality  of  historical  and 
legendary  erudition.  Such  a  poem  is  es- 
sentially designed  to  instruct,  and  speaks 
to  the  understanding  more  than  to  the 
fancy.  The  powers  displayed  in  it  are, 
however,  of  a  high  cast.  It  has  generally 
seen  a  difficulty  with  poets  to  deal  with  a 
necessary  enumeration  of  proper  names. 
The  catalogue  of  ships  if  not  the  most  de- 
iightful  part  of  the  Iliad,  and  Ariosto  never 
encounters  such  a  roll  of  persons  or  pla- 
ces without  sinking  into  the  tamest  insi- 
pidity. Virgil  is  splendidly  beautiful  upon 


178 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


similar  occasions  ;  but  his  decorative  ele- 
gance could  not  be  preserved,  nor  would 
continue  to  please  in  a  poem  that  kept  up, 
through  a  great  length,  the  effort  to  fur- 
nish instruction.  The  style  of  Drayton  is 
sustained,  with  extraordinary  ability,  on 
an  equable  line,  from  which  he  seldom 
much  deviates,  neither  brilliant  nor  pro- 
saic; few  or  no  passages  could  be  mark- 
ed as  impressive,  but  few  are  languid  or 
mean.  The  language  is  clear,  strong,  va- 
rious, and  sufficiently  figurative ;  the  sto- 
ries and  fictions  interspersed,  as  well  as 
the  general  spirit  and  liveliness,  relieve 
the  heaviness  incident  to  topographical 
description.  There  is  probably  no  poem 
of  this  kind  in  any  other  language  com- 
parable together  in  extent  and  excellence 
to  the  Polyolbion ;  nor  can  any  one  read 
a  portion  of  it  without  admiration  for  its 
learned  and  highly-gifted  author.  Yet 
perhaps  no  English  poem,  known  as  well 
by  name,  is  so  little  known  beyond  its 
name ;  for,  while  its  immense  length  de- 
ters the  common  reader,  it  affords,  as  has 
just  been  hinted,  no  great  harvest  for  se- 
lection, and  would  be  judged  very  unfairly 
by  partial  extracts.  It  must  be  owned, 
also,  that  geography  and  antiquities  may, 
in  modern  times,  be  taught  better  in  prose 
than  in  verse ;  yet  whoever  consults  the 
Polyolbion  for  such  objects  will  probably 
be  repaid  by  petty  knowledge  which  he 
may  not  have  found  anywhere  else. 

45.  Among  these  historical  poets  I 
Browne's  should  incline  to  class  William 
Britannia's  Browne,  author  of  a  poem  with 
Pastorals.  the  quaint  title  of  Britannia's 

Pastorals,  though  his  story,  one  of  little 
interest,  seems  to  have  been  invented  by 
himself.  Browne,  indeed,  is  of  no  distinct 
school  among  the  writers  of  that  age  ;  he 
seems  to  recognise  Spenser  as  his  master, 
but  his  own  manner  is  more  to  be  traced 
among  later  than  earlier  poets.  He  was 
a  native  of  Devonshire  ;  and  his  principal 
poem,  above  mentioned,  relating  partly  to 
the  local  scenery  of  that  county,  was 
printed  in  1613.  Browne  is  truly  a  poet, 
full  of  imagination,  grace,  and  sweetness, 
though  not  very  nervous  or  rapid.  I 
know  not  why  Headley,  favourable  enough, 
for  the  most  part,  to  this  generation  of  the 
sons  of  song,  has  spoken  of  Browne  with 
unfair  contempt.  Justice,  however,  has 
been  done  to  him  by  later  critics.*  But  I 


*  "  Browne,"  Mr.  SoiUhey  says,  "  is  a  poet  who 
produced  no  slight  effect  upon  his  contemporaries. 
George  Wither,  in  his  happiest  pieces,  has  learned 
the  manner  of  his  friend,  and  Milton  may  be  traced 
to  him.  And  in  our  days  his  peculiarities  have  been 
caught,  and  his  beauties  imitated,  by  men  who  will 
themselves  find  admirers  and  imitators  hereafter." 
'His  poetry,"  Mr.  Campbell,  a  far  less  indulgent 


have  not  observed  that  they  take  notice  of 
what  is  remarkable  in  the  history  of  our 
poetical  literature,  that  Browne  is  an  ear- 
ly model  of  ease  and  variety  in  the  regu- 
lar couplet.  Many  passages  in  his  un- 
equal poem  are  hardly  excelled  by  the 
fables  of  Dryden.  It  is  manifest  that  Mil- 
ton was  well  acquainted  with  the  writings 
of  Browne. 

46.  The   commendation  of  improving 
the  rhythm  of  the  couplet  is  due  sir  John 
also  to  Sir  John  Beaumont,  au-  Beaumont 
thor  of  a  short  poem  on  the  battle  of  Bos- 
worth  Field.     It  was  not  written,  how- 
ever, so  early  as  the  Britannia's  Pastorals 
of  Browne.     In  other  respects  it  has  no 
pretensions  to  a  high  rank.     But  it  may 
be  added  that  a  poem  of  Drummond,  on 
the  visit  of  James  I.  to  Scotland  in  1617, 
is  perfectly  harmonious ;  and,  what  is  very 
remarkable  in  that  age,  he  concludes  the 
verse  at  every  couplet  with  the  regularity 
of  Pope. 

47.  Far  unlike  the  poem  of  Browne  was 
Gondibert,  published  by  Sir  Wil-  Davenam's 
liam  Davenant  in  1650.     It  may  Gondibert. 
probably  have  been  reckoned  by  himself 
an  epic ;  but  in  that  age  the  practice  of 
Spain  and  Italy  had  effaced  the  distinction 
between  the  regular  epic  and  the  heroic 
romance.   Gondibert  belongs  rather  to  the 
latter  class  by  the  entire  want  of  truth  in 
the  story,  though  the  scene  is  laid  at  the 
court  of  the  Lombard  kings,  by  the  de- 
ficiency of  unity  in  the  action,  by  the  in- 
tricacy of  the  events,  and  by  the  resources 
of  the  fable,  which  are   sometimes   too 
much  in  the  style  of  comic  fiction.     It  is 
so  imperfect,  only  two  books  and  part  of 
the  third  being  completed,  that  we  can 
hardly  judge  of  the  termination  it  was  to 
receive.     Each  book,  however,  after  the 
manner  of  Spenser j  is  divided  into  several 
cantos.    It  contains  about  6000  lines.    The 
metre  is  the  four-lined  stanza  of  alternate 
rhymes  ;  one  capable  of  great  vigour,  but 
not,  perhaps,  well  adapted  to  poetry  of 
imagination  or  of  passion.     These,  how- 
ever, Davenant  exhibits  but  sparingly  in 
Gondibert;  they  are  replaced  by  a  philo- 
sophical spirit,  in  the  tone  of  Sir  John  Da- 
vies,  who  had  adopted  the  same  metre,  and, 
as  some  have  thought,  nourished  by  the 
author's  friendly  intercourse  with  Hobbes-. 
Gondibert  is  written  in  a  clear,  nervous 
P^nglish  style ;  its  condensation  produces 
some  obscurity,  but  pedantry,  at  least  that 
of  language,  will  rarely  be  found  in  it ;  and 


judge  of  the  older  bards,  observes,  "  is  not  without 
beauty  ;  but  it  is  the  beauty  of  mere  landscape  and 
allegory,  without  the  manners  and  passions  that 
constitute  human  interest." — Specimens  of  English 
Poetry,  iv.,  323. 


FROM  1600  TO  1650. 


179 


Davenant  is  less  infected  by  the  love  of 
conceit  and  of  extravagance  than  his  con- 
temporaries, though  I  would  not  assert 
that  he  is  wholly  exempt  from  the  former 
blemish.  But  the  chief  praise  of  Gondi- 
bert  is  for  masculine  verse  in  a  good  met- 
rical cadence ;  for  the  sake  of  which  we 
may  forgive  the  absence  of  interest  in  the 
story,  and  even  of  those  glowing  words 
and  breathing  thoughts  which  are  the  soul 
of  genuine  poetry.  Gondibert  is  very 
little  read ;  yet  it  is  better  worth  reading 
than  the  Purple  Island,  though  it  may 
have  less  of  that  which  distinguishes  a 
poet  from  another  man. 

48.  The  sonnets  of  Shakspeare,  for  we 
Sonnets  of  now  come  to  the  minor,  thai  is, 
Shakspeare.  the  shorter  and  more  lyric,  poe- 
try of  the  age,  were  published  in  1609,  in 
a  manner  as  mysterious  as  their  subject 
and  contents.  They  are  dedicated  by  an 
editor  (Thomas  Thorpe,  a  bookseller)  "  to 
Mr.  W.  H.,  the  only  begetter  of  these 
sonnets."*  No  one,  as  far  as  I  remember, 
has  ever  doubted  their  genuineness;  no 
one  can  doubt  that  they  express  not  only 
real,  but  intense  emotions  of  the  heart ; 
but  when  they  were  written,  who  was  the 
W.  H.  quaintly  called  their  begetter,  by 
which  we  can  only  understand  the  cause 
of  their  being  written,  and  to  what  persons 
or  circumstances  they  allude,  has  of  late 
years  been  the  subject  of  much  curiosity. 
These  sonnets  were  long  overlooked ; 
Steevens  spoke  of  them  with  the  utmost 
scorn,  as  productions  which  no  one  could 
read  ;  but  a  very  different  suffrage  is  gen- 
erally given  by  the  lovers  of  poetry,  and 
perhaps  there  is  now  a  tendency,  especial- 
ly among  young  men  of  poetical  tempers, 
to  exaggerate  the  beauties  of  these  re- 
markable productions.  They  rise,  indeed, 
in  estimation  as  we  attentively  read  and 
reflect  upon  them  ;  for  I  do  not  think  that, 
at  first,  they  give  us  much  pleasure.  No 
one  ever  entered  more  fully  than  Shaks- 
peare into  the  character  of  this  species 
of  poetry,  which  admits  .of  no  expletive 
imagery,  no  merely  ornamental  line.  But, 
though  each  sonnet  has  generally  its 
proper  unity,  the  sense,  I  do  not  mean  the 


*  The  precise  words  of  the  dedication  are  the 
following : 

To  the  only  Begetter 
Of  these  ensuing  sonnets 

Mr.  W.  H. 

All  Happiness 

And  that  eternity  promised 

By  our  ever  living  poet 

Wisheth  the 

Well-wishing  Adventurer 
In  setting  forth 

T.  T. 

The  title-page  runs :  Shakspeare's  Sonnets,  nev- 
ei  before  imprinted,  4to,  1609.    G.  Eld  for  T.  T. 


grammatical  construction,  will  sometimes 
be  found  to  spread  from  one  to  another, 
independently  of  that  repetition  of  the 
leading  idea,  like  variations  of  an  air, 
which  a  series  of  them  frequently  exhibits, 
and  on  account  of  which  they  have  latterly 
been  reckoned  by  some  rather  an  integral 
poem  than  a  collection  of  sonnets.  But 
this  is  not  uncommon  among  the  Italians, 
and  belongs,  in  fact,  to  those  of  Petrarch 
himself.  They  may  easily  be  resolved 
into  several  series  according  to  their  sub- 
jects ;*  but,  when  read  attentively,  we 
find  them  relate  to  one  definite,  though 
obscure  period  of  the  poet's  life  ;  in  which 
an  attachment  to  some  female,  which 
seems  to  have  touched  neither  his  heart 
nor  his  fancy  very  sensibly,  was  over- 
powered, without  entirely  ceasing,  by  one 
to  a  friend ;  and  this  last  is  of  such  an 
enthusiastic  character,  and  so  extravagant 
in  the  phrases  that  the  author  uses,  as  to 
have  thrown  an  unaccountable  mystery 
over  the  whole  work.  It  is  true  that,  in 
the  poetry  as  well  as  in  the  fictions  of 
arly  ages,  we  find  a  more  ardent  tone  of 
affection  in  the  language  of  friendship  than 
has  since  been  usual ;  and  yet  no  instance 
las  been  adduced  of  such  rapturous  de- 
votedness,  such  an  idolatry  of  admiring 
ove,  as  the  greatest  being  whom  nature 
?ver  produced  in  the  human  form  pours 
brth  to  some  unknown  youth  in  the  ma- 
jority of  these  sonnets. 

49.  The  notion  that  a  woman  was  their 
general  object  is  totally  unten-  The  J)ersori 
able,  and  it  is  strange  that  Cole-  whom  they 
idge  should  have  entertained  it.f  address- 
Those  that  were  evidently  addressed  to  a 
woman,  the  person  above  hinted,  are  by 
nuch  the  smaller  part  of  the  whole,  but 
twenty-eight  out  of  one  hundred  and  fifty- 


*  This  has  been  done  in   a  late  publication, 

Shakspeare's  Autobiographical  Poems,  by  George 

Armitage  Brown"  (1838).    It  might  have  occurred 

o  any  attentive  reader,  but  I  do  not  know  that  the 
analysis  was  ever  so  completely  made  before, 
;hough  almost  every  one  has  been  aware  that  dif- 

erent  persons  are  addressed  in  the  former  and  lat- 
ter part  of  the  sonnets.  Mr.  Brown's  work  did  not 

all  into  my  hands  till  nearly  the  time  that  these 
sheets  passed  through  the  press,  which  I  mention 
on  account  of  some  coincidences  of  opinion,  es- 

jecially  as  to  Shakspeare's  knowledge  of  Latin. 
f  "  It.  seems  to  me  that  the  sonnets  could  only 

lave  come  from  a  man  deeply  in  love,  and  in  love 
with  a  woman ;  and  there  is  one  sonnet  which, 

rom  its  incongruity,  I  take  to  be  a  purposed  blind." 
—Table-talk,  vol.  ii.,  p.  180.  This  sonnet,  the 

ditor  supposes  to  be   the  twentieth,  which  cer- 

.ainly  could  not  have  been  addressed  to  a  woman ; 

nit  the  proof  is  equally  strong  as  to  most  of  the 
rest.  Coleridge's  opinion  is  absolutely  untenable; 
nor  do  I  coruceive  that  any  one  else  is  likely  to 
maintain  it  after  reading  the  sonnets  of  Shakspeare ; 
but  to  those  who  have  not  done  this  the  authority 
may  justly  seem  imposing. 


180 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


four.  And  this  mysterious  Mr.  W.  H. 
must  be  presumed  to  be  the  idolized  friend 
of  Shakspeare.  But  who  could  he  be?  No 
one  recorded  in  literary  history  or  anec- 
dote answers  the  description.  But  if  we 
seize  a  clew  which  innumerable  passages 
give  us,  and  suppose  that  they  allude  to  a 
youth  of  high  rank  as  well  as  personal 
beauty  and  accomplishment,  in  whose  fa- 
vour and  intimacy,  according  to  the  base 
prejudices  of  the  world,  a  player  and  a 
poet,  though  he  were  the  author  of  Mac- 
beth, might  be  thought  honoured,  some- 
thing of  the  strangeness,  as  it  appears  to 
us,  of  Shakspeare's  humiliation  in  address- 
ing him  as  a  being  before  whose  feet  he 
crouched,  whose  frown  he  feared,  whose 
injuries,  and  th  se  of  the  most  insulting 
kind — the  seduction  of  the  mistress  to 
whom  we  have  alluded — he  felt  and  be- 
wailed without  resenting;  something.  I 
say,  of  the  strangeness  of  this  humiliation, 
and  at  best  it  is  but  little,  may  be  lightened 
and,  in  a  certain  sense,  rendered  intelli- 
gible. And  it  has  been  ingeniously  con- 
jectured within  a  few  years,  by  inquirers 
independent  of  each  other,  that  William 
Herbert,  earl  of  Pembroke,  born  in  1580, 
and  afterward  a  man  of  noble  and  gallant 
character,  though  always  of  a  licentious 
life,  was  shadowed  under  the  initials  of 
Mr.  W.  H.  This  hypothesis  is  not  strictly 
proved,  but  sufficiently  so,  in  my  opinion, 
to  demand  our  assent.* 

50.  Notwithstanding  the  frequent  beau- 
ties of  these  sonnets,  the  pleasure  of  their 
perusal  is  greatly  diminished  by  these  cir- 

*  In  the  Gentleman's  Magazine  for  1832,  p.  217. 
et  post,  it  will  be  seen  that  this  occurred  both  to 
Mr.  Boaden  and  Mr.  Hey  wood  Bright.  And  it  does 
not  appear  that  Mr.  Brown,  author  of  the  work 
above  quoted,  had  any  knowledge  of  their  priority. 

Drake  has  fixed  on  Lord  Southampton  as  the 
object  of  these  sonnets,  induced  probably  by  the 
tradition  of  his  friendship  with  Shakspeare,  and  by 
the  letter's  having  dedicated  to  him  his  Venus  and 
Adonis,  as  well  as  by  what  is  remarkable  on  the 
face  of  the  series  of  sonnets,  that  Shakspeare 
looked  up  to  his  friend  "  with  reverence  and  hom- 
age." But,  unfortunately,  this  was  only  the  rever- 
ence and  homage  of  an  inferior  to  one  of  high  rank, 
and  not  such  as  the  virtues  of  Southampton  might 
have  challenged.  Proofs  of  the  low  moral  charac- 
ter of  "  Mr.  W .  H."  are  continual.  It  was  also  im- 
possible that  Lord  Southampton  could  be  called 
"  beauteous  and  lovely  youth,"  or  "  sweet  boy." 
Mrs.  Jameson,  in  her  "  Loves  of  the  Poets,"  has 
adopted  the  same  hypothesis,  but  is  forced,  in  con- 
sequence, to  suppose  some  of  the  earlier  sonnets  to 
be"  addressed  to  a  woman. 

Pembroke  succeeded  to  his  father  in  1601:  I  in- 
cline to  think  that  the  sonnets  were  written  about 
that  time,  some  probably  earlier,  some  later.  That 
they  were  the  same  as  Meres,  in  1598,  has  men- 
tioned among  the  compositions  of  Shakspeare,  "his 
sugred  sonnets  among  his  private  friends,"  I  do  not 
believe,  both  on  account  of  the  date,  and  from  the 
peculiarly  personal  allusions  they  contain. 


cumstances  ;  and  it  is  impossible  not  to 
wish  that  Shakspeare  had  never  written 
them.  There  is  a  weakness  and  folly  in 
all  excessive  and  misplaced  affection, 
which  is  not  redeemed  by  the  touches  of 
nobler  sentiments  that  abound  in  this  long 
series  of  sonnets.  But  there  are  also 
faults  of  a  merely  critical  nature.  The 
obscurity  is  often  such  as  only  conjecture 
can  penetrate  ;  the  strain  of  tenderness 
and  adoration  would  be  too  monotonous 
were  it  less  unpleasing ;  and  so  many 
frigid  conceits  are  scattered  around,  that 
we  might  almost  fancy  the  poet  to  have 
written  without  genuine  emotion,  did  not 
such  a  host  of  other  passages  attest  the 
contrary. 

51.  The  sonnets  of  Drummond  of  Haw- 
thornden,  the  most  celebrated  in  sonnets  of 
that  class  of  poets,  have  obtain-  Drummond 
ed,  probably,  as  much  praise  as  and  olhers- 
they  deserve.*  But  they  are  polished  and 
elegant,  free  from  conceit  and  bad  taste, 
in  pure,  unblemished  English ;  some  are 
pathetic  or  tender  in  sentiment,  and  if 
they  do  not  show  much  originality,  at 
least  would  have  acquired  a  fair  place 
among  the  Italians  of  the  sixteenth  cen- 
tury. Those  of  Daniel,  of  Drayton,  and 
of  Sir  William  Alexander,  afterward  Earl 
of  Stirling,  are  perhaps  hardly  inferior. 
Some  may  doubt,  however,  whether  the 
last  poet  should  be  placed  on  such  a  level. f 
But  the  difficulty  of  finding  the  necessary 
rhymes  in  our  language  has  caused  most 
who  have  attempted  the  sonnet  to  swerve 
from  laws  which  cannot  be  transgressed, 
at  least  to  the  degree  they  have  often 
dared,  without  losing  the  unity  for  which 
that  complex  mechanism  was  contrived. 
Certainly  three  quatrains  of  alternate 
rhymes,  succeeded  by  a  couplet,  which 


*  I  concur  in  this  with  Mr.  Campbell,  iv.,  343. 
Mr.  Southey  thinks  Drummond  "has  deserved  the 
high  reputation  he  has  obtained  ;"  which  seems  to 
say  the  same  thing,  but  is,  in  fact,  different.  He 
observes  that  Drummond  "  frequently  borrows,  and 
sometimes  translates  from  the  Italian  and  Spanish 
poets." — Southey's  British  Poets,  p.  798.  The  fu- 
rious invective  of  Gifford  against.  Drummond  for 
having  written  private  memoranda  of  his  conversa- 
tions with  Ben  Jonson,  which  he  did  not  publish, 
and  which,  for  aught  we  know,  were  perfectly 
faithful,  is  absurd.  Any  one  else  would  have  been 
thankful  for  so  much  literary  anecdote. 

t  Lord  Stirling  is  rather  monotonous,  as  sonnet- 
teers  usually  are,  and  he  addresses  his  mistress  by 
the  appellation,  "  Fair  tygress."  Campbell  ob- 
serves that  there  is  elegance  of  expression  in  a  few 
of  Stirling's  shorter  pieces,  vol.  iv.,  p.  206.  The 
longest  poem  of  Stirling  is  entitled  Domesday,  in 
twelve  books,  or,  as  he  calls  them,  hours.  It  is 
written  in  the  Italian  octave  stanza,  and  has  some- 
what of  the  condensed  style  of  the  philosophical 
school,  which  he  seems  to  have  imitated,  but  his 
numbers  are  harsh. 


FROM  1600  TO  1650. 


181 


Lrummond,  like  many  other  English  po- 
ets, has  sometimes  given  us,  is  the  very 
worst  form  of  the  sonnet,  even  if,  in  def- 
erence to  a  scanty  number  of  Italian 
precedents,  we  allow  it  to  pass  as  a  son- 
net at  all.*  We  possess,  indeed,  noble 
poetry  in  the  form  of  sonnet ;  yet  with 
us  it  seems  more  fitted  for  grave  than  am- 
atory composition  ;  in  the  latter  we  miss 
the  facility  and  grace  of  our  native  Eng- 
lish measures,  the  song,  the  madrigal,  or 
the  ballad. 

52.  Carew  is  the  most  celebrated  among 
0  the  lighter  poets,  though  no  collec- 
tion has  hitherto  embraced  his  en- 
tire writings.  Headley  has  said,  and  Ellis 
echoes  the  praise,  that  "  Carew  has  the 
ease  without  the  pedantry  of  Waller,  and 
perhaps  less  conceit.  Waller  is  too  ex- 
clusively considered  as  the  first  man  who 
brought  versification  to  anything  like  its 
present  standard.  Carew's  pretensions 
to  the  same  merit  are  seldom  sufficiently 
either  considered  or  allowed."  Yet,  in 
point  of  versification,  others  of  the  same 
age  seem  to  have  surpassed  Carew,  whose 
lines  are  often  very  harmonious,  but  not 
so  artfully  constructed  or  so  uniformly 
pleasing  as  those  of  Waller.  He  is  re- 
markably unequal ;  the  best  of  his  little 
poems  (none  of  more  than  thirty  lines  are 
good)  excel  all  of  his  time  ;  but,  after  a 
few  lines  of  great  beauty,  we  often  come 
to  some  ill  expressed,  or  obscure,  or  weak, 
or  inharmonious  passage.  Few  will  hesi- 
tate to  acknowledge  that  he  has  more 
fancy  and  more  tenderness  than  Waller, 
but  less  choice,  less  judgment  and  knowl- 
edge where  to  stop,  less  of  the  equability 
which  never  offends,  less  attention  to  the 
unity  and  thread  of  his  little  pieces.  I 
should  hesitate  to  give  him,  on  the  whole, 
the  preference  as  a  poet,  taking  collect- 
ively the  attributes  of  that  character ;  for 
we  must  not,  in  such  a  comparison,  over- 
look a  good  deal  of  very  inferior  merit 


*  The  legitimate  sonnet  consists  of  two  quatrains 
and  two  tercets ;  as  much  skill,  to  say  the  least,  is 
required  for  the  management  of  the  latter  as  of  the 
former.  The  rhymes  of  the  last  six  lines  are  capa- 
ble of  many  arrangements  ;  but  by  far  the  worst, 
and  alsc  the  least  common  in  Italy,  is  that  we  usu- 
ally adopt,  the  fifth  and  sixth  rhyming  together, 
frequently  after  a  full  pause,  so  that  the  sonnet  ends 
with  the  point  of  an  epigram.  The  best  form,  as 
the  Italians  hold,  is  the  rhyming  together  of  the 
three  uneven  and  the  three  even  lines  ;  but,  as  our 
language  is  less  rich  in  consonant  terminations, 
there  can  be  no  objection  to  what  has  abundant 
precedents  even  in  theirs,  the  rhyming  of  the  first 
and  fourth,  second  and  fifth,  third  and  sixth  lines. 
This,  with  a  break  in  the  sense  at  the  third  line, 
will  make  a  real  sonnet,  which  Shakspeare,  Mil- 
ton, Bowles,  and  Wordsworth  have  often  failed  to 
give  us,  even  where  they  have  given  us  something 
good  instead. 


which  may  be  found  in  the  short  volume 
of  Carew's  poems.  The  best  has  great 
beauty,  but  he  has  had,  in  late  criticism, 
his  full  share  of  applause.  Two  of  his 
most  pleasing  little  poems  appear  also 
among  those  of  Herrick ;  and  as  Carew's 
were,  I  believe,  published  posthumously,  I 
am  rather  inclined  to  prefer  the  claim  of 
the  other  poet,  independently  of  some  in- 
ternal evidence  as  to  one  of  them.  In  all 
ages,  these  very  short  compositions  circu- 
late for  a  time  in  polished  society,  while 
mistakes  as  to  the  real  author  are  natu- 
ral.* 

53.  The  minor  poetry  of  Ben  Jonson 
is  extremely  beautiful.  This  is 
partly  mixed  with  his  masques 
and  interludes,  poetical  and  musical  rather 
than  dramatic  pieces,  and  intended  to  grati- 
fy the  imagination  by  the  charm  of  song, 
as  well  as  by  the  varied  scenes  that  were 
brought  before  the  eye ;  partly  in  very 
short  effusions  of  a  single  sentiment, 
among  which  two  epitaphs  are  known  by 
heart.  Jonson  possessed  an  admirable 
taste  and  feeling  in  poetry,  which  his 
dramas,  except  the  Sad  Shepherd,  do  not 
entirely  lead  us  to  value  highly  enough ; 
and  when  we  consider  how  many  other 
intellectual  excellences  distinguished  him, 
wit,  observation,  judgment,  memory,  learn- 
ing, we  must  acknowledge  that  the  inscrip- 
tion on  his  tomb,  Oh  rare  Ben  Jonson !  is 
not  more  pithy  than  it  is  true. 

51.  George  Wither,  by  siding  with  the 
less  poetical,  though  more  prosper-  w 
ous  party  in  the  civil  war,  and  by  a 
profusion  of  temporary  writings  to  serve 
the  ends  of  faction  and  folly,  has  left  a  name 
which  we  were   accustomed   to  despise 
till  Ellis  did  justice  to  "  that  playful  fancy, 


*  One  of  these  poems  begins,  "  Among  the 
myrtles  as  I  walked,  Love  and  my  sighs  thus  in- 
tertalked."  Herrick  wants  four  good  lines  which, 
are  in  Carew  ;  and,  as  they  are  rather  more  likely 
to  have  been  interpolated  than  left  out,  this  leads 
to  a  sort  of  inference  that  he  was  the  original ; 
there  are  also  some  other  petty  improvements. 
The  second  poem  is  that  beginning,  "  Ask  me  why 
I  send  you  here  This  firstling  of  the  infant  year." 
Herrick  gives  the  second  line  strangely,  "  This 
sweet  infanta  of  the  year,"  which  is  little  else  than 
nonsense ;  and  all  the  other  variances  are  for  the 
worse.  I  must  leave  it  in  doubt  whether  he  bor- 
rowed and  disfigured  a  little,  or  was  himself  im- 
proved upon.  I  must  own  that  he  has  a  trick  of 
spoiling  what  he  takes.  Suckling  has  an  incom- 
parable image  on  a  lady  dancing. 

Her  feet  beneath  the  petticoat, 

Like  little  mice,  stole  in  and  out, 
As  if  they  feared  the  light — 
Herrick  has  it  thus  : 

Her  pretty  feet,  like  snails,  did  creep 

A  little  out ; 
A  most  singular  parallel  for  an  elegant  dancer. 


182 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


pure  taste,  and  artless  delicacy  of  senti- 
ment which  distinguish  the  poetry  of  his 
early  youth."  His  best  poems  were  pub- 
lished in  1622,  with  the  title  "  Mistress  of 
Philarete."  Some  of  them  are  highly 
beautiful,  and  bespeak  a  mind  above  the 
grovelling  Puritanism  into  which  he  after- 
ward fell.  I  think  there  is  hardly  anything 
in  our  lyric  poetry  of  this  period  equal  to 
Wither's  lines  on  his  Muse,  published  by 
Ellis.* 

55.  The  poetry  of  Habington  is  that  of 

a  pure  and  amiable  mind,  turned 

Habington.   tQ  versjfication  by  the  custom  of 

the  age,  during  a  real  passion  for  a  lady 
of  birth  and  virtue,  the  Castara  whom  he 
afterward  married ;  but  it  displays  no  great 
original  power,  nor  is  it  by  any  means 
exempt  from  the  ordinary  blemishes  of 
hyperbolical  compliment  and  far-fetched 
Earl  of  imagery.  The  poems  of  William, 
Pembroke.  ear\  of  Pembroke,  long  known  by 
the  character  drawn  for  him  by  Claren- 
don, and  now  as  the  object  of  Shakspeare's 
doting  friendship,  were  ushered  into  the 
world  after  his  death,  with  a  letter  of  ex- 
travagant flattery  addressed  by  Donne  to 
Christiana,  countess  of  Devonshire.!  But 
there  is  little  reliance  to  be  placed  on  the 
freedom  from  interpolation  of  these  post- 
humous editions.  Among  these  poems 
attributed  to  Lord  Pembroke,  we  find  one 
of  the  best  known  of  Carew's,J  and  even 
the  famous  lines  addressed  to  the  Soul, 
which  some  have  given  to  Silvester.  The 
poems,  in  general,  are  of  little  merit ;  some 
are  grossly  indecent ;  nor  would  they  be 
mentioned  here  except  for  the  interest  re- 
cently attached  to  the  author's  name.  But 
they  throw  no  light  whatever  on  the  son- 
nets of  Shakspe'are. 

56.  Sir  John  Suckling  is  acknowledged 
Buckling  to  nave  ^^  ^ar  behind  him  all  for- 

'  mer  writers  of  song  in  gayety  and 
ease ;  it  is  not  equally  clear  that  he  has 
ever  since  been  surpassed.  His  poetry 
aims  at  no  higher  praise ;  he  shows  no 
sentiment  or  imagination,  either  because 
he  had  them  not,  or  because  he  did  not  re- 
quire either  in  the  style  he  chose.  Per- 
haps the  Italians  may  have  poetry  in  that 
style  equal  to  Suckling's  ;  I  do  not  know 
that  they  have,  nor  do  I  believe  that  there 
is  any  in  French ;  that  there  is  none  in 


*  Ellis's  Specimens  of  Early  English  Poets,  iii. 
96. 

t  The  only  edition  that  I  have  seen,  or  that  I 
find  mentioned,  of  Lord  Pembroke's  poems  is  in 
1660.  But  as  Donne  died  in  1631, 1  conceive  thai 
there  must  be  one  of  earlier  date.  The  Countess 
of  Devonshire  is  not  called  dowager ;  her  husband 
died  in  1643. 

t  Ask  me  no  more  whither  do  stray 
The  golden  atoms  of  the  day. 


Lovelace. 


Latin  I  know.*  Lovelace  is  chief- 
y  known  by  a  single  song ;  his 
other  poetry  is  much  inferior;  and,  in- 
deed, it  may  be  generally  remarked,  that 
the  flowers  of  our  early  verse,  both  in  the 
Elizabethan  and  the  subsequent  age,  have 
3een  well  culled  by  good  taste  and  a  friend- 
y  spirit  of  selection.  We  must  not  judge 
of  them,  or  shall  judge  of  them  very  fa- 
vourably, by  the  extracts  of  Headley  or 
Ellis. 

57.  The  most  amorous,  and  among  the 
jest  of  our  amorous  poets,  was 
Robert  Herrick,  a  clergyman  eject- 
d  from  his  living  in  Devonshire  by  the 
Long  Parliament,  whose  "  Hesperides,  or 
Poems  Human  and  Divine,"  were  pub- 
dshed  in  1648.  Herrick's  divine  poems 
are,  of  course,  such  as  might  be  presumed 
ay  their  title  and  by  his  calling ;  of  his 
human,  which  are  poetically  much  su- 
perior, and  probably  written  in  early  life, 
the  greater  portion  is  light  and  voluptuous, 
while  some  border  on  the  licentious  and 
indecent.  A  selection  was  published  in 
1815,  by  which,  as  commonly  happens, 
the  poetical  fame  of  Herrick  does  not 
suffer ;  a  number  of  dull  epigrams  are 
omitted,  and  the  editor  has  a  manifest 
preference  for  what  must  be  owned  to  be 
the  most  elegant  and  attractive  part  of  his 
author's  rhymes.  He  has  much  of  the 
lively  grace  that  distinguishes  Anacreon 
and  Catullus,  and  approaches  also,  with  a 
less  cloying  monotony,  to  the  Basia  ol 
Joannes  Secundus.  Herrick  has  as  much 
variety  as  the  poetry  of  kisses  can  wel/ 
have  ;  but  his  love  is  in  a  very  slight  de- 
gree that  of  sentiment,  or  even  any  intense 
passion ;  his  mistresses  have  little  to  rec- 
ommend them,  even  in  his  own  eyes 
save  their  beauties,  and  none  of  these  art 
omitted  in  his  catalogues.  Yet  he  is  abun- 
dant in  the  resources  of  verse ;  without  the 
exuberant  gayety  of  Suckling,  or  perhaps 
the  delicacy  of  Carew,  he  is  sportive, 
fanciful,  and  generally  of  polished  lan- 
guage. The  faults  of  his  age  are  some- 
times apparent ;  though  he  is  not  often 
obscure,  he  runs,  more,  perhaps,  for  the 
sake  of  variety  than  any  other  cause,  into 
occasional  pedantry ;  he  has  his  conceits 
and  false  thoughts,  but  these  are  more 
than  redeemed  by  the  numerous  very  little 
poems  (for  those  of  Herrick  are  frequent- 
ly not  longer  than  epigrams),  which  may 
be  praised  without  much  more  qualification 
than  belongs  to  such  poetry. 

58.  John  Milton  was  born  in  1609.    Few 

*  Suckling's  Epithalamium,  though  not  writter 
for  those  "  Qui  Musas  colitis  severiores,"  has  beer 
read  by  almost  all  the  world,  and  is  a  matchlest 
piece  of  li veliness  and  facility. 


FROM  1GOO  TO  1C50. 


183 


IWnton. 


are  ignorant  of  his  life,  in  recover- 
ing  and   recording   every  circum- 
stance of  which  no  diligence  has   been 
spared,  nor  has  it  often  been  unsuccessful. 
Of  his  Latin  poetry  some  was  written  at 
the  age  of  seventeen  ;  in  English  we  have 
nothing,  I  believe,  the  date  of  which  i 
known  to  be  earlier  than  the  sonnet  0! 
entering  his  twenty- third  year.     In  163 
he  wrote  Comus,  which  was  published  in 
1637.     Lycidas  was  written  in  the  latte 
year,  and  most  of  his  shorter  pieces  sooi 
afterward,  except  the  sonnets,  some  o: 
which  do  not  come  within  the  first  hal 
of  the  century. 

09.  Comus  was  sufficient  to  convince 
any  one  of  taste  and  feeling  tha 

His  Comus.        *  ,     j  -i-i 

a  great  poet  had  arisen  in  JrMig 
land,  and  one  partly  formed  in  a  different 
school  from  his  contemporaries.  Man} 
of  them  had  produced  highly  beautiful  anc 
imaginative  passages  ;  but  none  had  evin- 
ced so  classical  a  judgment,  none  hac 
aspired  to  so  regular  a  perfection.  Jon- 
son  had  learned  much  from  the  ancients ; 
but  there  was  a  grace  in  their  best  model 
which  he  did  not  quite  attain.  Neither 
his  Sad  Shepherd  nor  the  Faithful  Shep- 


dignity  of  Comus.  A  noble  virgin  and  her 
young  brothers,  by  whom  this  masque  was 
originally  represented,  required  an  eleva- 
tion, a  purity,  a  sort  of  severity  of  senti- 
ment which  no  one  in  that  age  could  have 
given  but  Milton.  He  avoided,  and  no- 
thing loth,  the  more  festive  notes  which 
dramatic  poetry  was  wont  to  mingle  with 
its  serious  strain.  But  for  this  he  com- 
pensated by  the  brightest  hues  of  fancy 
and  the  sweetest  melody  of  song.  In  Co- 
mus we  find  nothing  prosaic  or  feeble  ;  no 
false  taste  in  the  incidents,  and  not  much 
in  the  language ;  nothing  over  which  we 
should  desire  to  pass  on  a  second  perusal. 
The  want  of  what  we  may  call  personali- 
ty, none  of  the  characters  having  names, 
except  Comus  himself,  who  is  a  very  in- 
definite being,  and  the  absence  of  all  pos- 
itive attributes  of  time  and  place,  enhance 
the  ideality  of  the  fiction  by  a  certain  in- 
distinctness not  unpleasing  to  the  imagin- 
ation. 

60.  It  has  been  said,  I  think  very  fairly, 
that  Lycidas  is  a  good  test  of  a 
8'  real  feeling  for  what  is  peculiarly 
called  poetry.  Many,  or,  perhaps  we 
might  say,  most  readers,  do  not  taste  its 
excellence ;  nor  does  it  follow  that  they 
may  not  greatly  admire  Pope  and  Dry- 
den,  or  even  Virgil  and  Homer.  It  is, 
however,  somewhat  remarkable,  that  John- 
son, who  has  committed  his  critical  repu- 
tation by  the  most  contemptuous  depre- 


ciation of  this  poem,  had  in  an  earlier  part 
of  his  life  selected  the  tenth  eclogue  of 
Virgil  for  peculiar  praise  ;*  the  tenth  ec- 
logue, which,  beautiful  as  it  is,  belongs  to 
the  same  class  of  pastoral  and  personal 
allegory,  and  requires  the  same  sacrifice 
of  reasoning  criticism  as  the  Lycidas  it- 
self. In  the  age  of  Milton,  the  poetical 
world  had  been  accustomed,  by  the  Italian 
and  Spanish  writers,  to  a  more  abundant 
use  of  allegory  than  has  been  pleasing  to 
their  posterity ;  but  Lycidas  is  not  so 
much  in  the  nature  of  an  allegory  as  of  a 
masque ;  the  characters  pass  before  our 
eyes  in  imagination  as  on  the  stage ;  they 
are  chiefly  mythological,  but  not  creations 
of  the  poet.  Our  sympathy  with  the  fate 
of  Lycidas  may  not  be  much  stronger 
than  for  the  desertion  of  Callus  by  his 
mistress ;  but  many  poems  will  yield  an 
exquisite  pleasure  to  the  imagination  that 
produce  no  emotion  in  the  heart ;  or  none, 
at  least,  except  through  associations  inde- 
pendent of  the  subject. 

61.  The  introduction  of  St.  Peter  after 
the  fabulous  deities  of  the  sea  has  appear- 
en  an  incongruity  deserving  of  censure  to 
some  admirers  of  this  poem.     It  would 
be  very  reluctantly  that  we  could  abandon 
to  this  criticism  the  most  splendid  passage 
it  presents.     But  the  censure  rests,  as  I 
think,  on  too  narrow  a  principle.     In  nar- 
rative or  dramatic  poetry,  where  some- 
thing like  illusion  or  momentary  belief  is 
to  be  produced,  the  mind  requires  an  ob- 
jective possibility,  a  capacity  of  real  ex- 
istence, not  only  in  all  the  separate  por- 
tions of  the  imagined  story,  but  in  their 
oherency   and    relation    to   a    common 
whole.     Whatever  is  obviously  incongru- 
ous, whatever  shocks  our  previous  knowl- 
dge  of  possibility,  destroys,  to  a  certain 
xtent,  that  acquiescence  in  the   fiction 
which  it  is  the  true  business  of  the  fiction 
;o  produce.     But  the  case  is  not  the  same 
n  such  poems  as  Lycidas.     They  pretend 
:o  no  credibility,  they  aim  at  no  illusion ; 
,hey  are  read  with  the  willing  abandon- 
ment  of   the   imagination   to   a  waking 
dream,  and  require  only  that  general  pos- 
ibility,  that  combination  of  images  which 
ommon  experience  does  not  reject  as 
ncompatible,  without  which  the  fancy  of 
he  poet  would  be  only  like  that  of  the  lu- 
natic.    And  it  had  been  so  usual  to  blend 
sacred  with  mythological  personages  in 
allegory,  that  no  one,  probably,  in  Milton's 
age  would  have  been  struck  by  the  objec- 
ion. 

62.  The  Allegro  and  Penseroso  are  per- 
laps  more  familiar  to  us  than  any  part  of 


Adventurer,  No.  92. 


184 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


Allegro  and  the  writings  of  Milton.  They 
Penseroso.  satisfy  the  critics,  and  they  de- 
light mankind.  The  choice  of  images 
is  so  judicious,  their  succession  so  rapid, 
the  allusions  are  so  various  and  pleasing, 
the  leading  distinction  of  the  poems  is  so 
felicitously  maintained,  the  versification 
is  so  animated,  that  we  may  place  them 
at  the  head  of  that  long  series  of  descrip- 
tive poems  which  our  language  has  to 
boast.  It  may  be  added,  as  in  the  greater 
part  of  Milton's  writings,  that  they  are 
sustained  at  a  uniform  pitch,  with  but  few 
blemishes  of  expression,  and  scarce  any 
feebleness  ;  a  striking  contrast,  in  this  re- 
spect, to  all  the  contemporaneous  poetry, 
except,  perhaps,  that  of  Waller.  Johnson 
has  thought  that,  while  there  is  no  mirth 
in  his  melancholy,  he  can  detect  some 
melancholy  in  his  mirth.  This  seems  to 
be  too  strongly  put ;  but  it  may  be  said 
that  his  Allegro  is  rather  cheerful  than 
gay,  and  that  even  his  cheerfulness  is  not 
always  without  effort.  In  these  poems 
he  is  indebted  to  Fletcher,  to  Burton,  to 
Browne,  to  Withers,  and  probably  to  more 
of  our  early  versifiers  ;  for  he  was  a  great 
collector  of  sweets  from  those  wild  flow- 
ers. 

63.  The  Ode  on  the  Nativity,  far  less 
ode  on  the  popular  than  most  of  the  poetry 
Nativity.     Of  Milton,  is  perhaps  the  finest  in 
the  English  language.    A  grandeur,  a  sim- 
plicity, a  breadth  of  manner,  an  imagina- 
tion at  once  elevated  and  restrained  by 
the  subject,  reign  throughout  it.     If  Pin- 
dar is  a  model  of  lyric  poetry,  it  would  be. 
hard  to  name  any  other  ode  so  truly  Pin- 
daric ;  but  more  has  naturally  been  deri- 
ved from  the  Scriptures.     Of  the  other 
short  poems,  that  on  the  Death  of  the  Mar- 
chioness of  Winchester  deserves  particu- 
lar mention.     It  is  pity  that  the  first  lines 
are  bad,  and  the  last  much  worse ;   for 
rarely  can  we  find  more  feeling  or  beauty 
than  in  some  other  passages. 

64.  The  sonnets  of  Milton  have  obtain- 

ed, of  late  years,  the  admiration 

His  sonnets,      r      -11  i    i  r 

of  all  real  lovers  of  poetry. 
Johnson  has  been  as  impotent  to  fix  the 
public  taste  in  this  instance  as  in  his  other 
criticisms  on  the  smaller  poems  of  the 
author  of  Paradise  Lost.  These  sonnets 
are  indeed  unequal ;  the  expression  is 
sometimes  harsh  and  sometimes  obscure ; 
sometimes  too  much  of  pedantic  allusion 
interferes  with  the  sentiment ;  nor  am  I 
reconciled  to  his  frequent  deviations  from 
the  best  Italian  structure.  But  such  blem- 
ishes are  lost  in  the  majestic  simplicity, 
the  holy  calm,  that  ennoble  many  of  these 
short  compositions. 

65.  Many  anonymous  songs,  many  pop- 


ular lays,  both  of  Scottish  and  Anonymous 
English  minstrelsy,  were  pour-  poetry, 
ed  forth  in  this  period  of  the  seventeenth 
century.  Those  of  Scotland  became,  af- 
ter the  union  of  the  crowns,  and  the  con- 
sequent cessation  of  rude  border  frays, 
less  warlike  than  before ;  they  are  still, 
however,  imaginative,  pathetic,  and  nat- 
ural. It  is  probable  that  the  best  are  a 
little  older;  but  their  date  is  seldom  de- 
terminable  with  much  precision.  The 
same  may  be  said  of  the  English  ballads, 
which,  so  far  as  of  a  merely  popular  na- 
ture, appear,  by  their  style  and  other  cir- 
cumstances, to  belong  more  frequently  to 
the  reign  of  James  I.  than  any  other  pe- 
riod. 


SECT.  VI.     ON  LATIN  POETRY. 

Latin  Poets  of  France— and  other  Countries. — Of 
England  :  May. — Milton. 

66.  FRANCE,  in  the  latter  part  of  the 
sixteenth  century,  had  been  re-  i,atin  poew 
markably  fruitful  of  Latin  poe-  °f  France, 
try  ;  it  was  the  pride  of  her  scholars, 
and  sometimes  of  her  statesmen.  In  the 
age  that  we  have  now  in  review,  we  do 
not  find  so  many  conspicuous  names ; 
but  the  custom  of  academical  institutions, 
and  especially  of  the  seminaries  conducted 
by  the  Jesuits,  kept  up  a  facility  of  Latin 
versification,  which  it  was  by  no  means 
held  pedantic  or  ridiculous  to  exhibit  in 
riper  years.  The  French  enumerate  sev- 
eral with  praise :  Guijon,  Bourbon  (Bor- 
bonius),  whom  some  have  compared  with 
the  best  of  the  preceding  century,  and 
among  whose  poems  that  on  the  Death  of 
Henry  IV.  is  reckoned  the  best ;  Cerisan- 
tes,  equal,  as  some  of  his  admirers  think, 
to  Sarbievius,  and  superior,  as  others  pre- 
sume, to  Horace  ;  and  Petavius,  who,  hav- 
ing solaced  his  leisure  hours  with  Greek 
and  Hebrew,  as  well  as  Latin  versifica- 
tion, has  obtained  in  the  last  the  general 
suffrage  of  critics.*  1  can  speak  of  none 
of  these  from  direct  knowledge,  except 


*  Baillet,  Jugemens  des  Sc,avans,  has  criticised 
all  these  and  several  more.  Rapin's  opinion  on 
Latin  poetry  is  entitled  to  much  regard  from  his 
own  excellence  in  it.  He  praises  three  lyrists,  Cas- 
imir,  Magdelenet,  and  Cerisantes ;  the  two  latter 
being  French.  Sarhieuski  a  de  1'elevalion  mail 
sans  purete  ;  Magdelenet  est  pur  mais  sans  Eleva- 
tion. Cerisantes  a  joint  dans  ses  odes  1'un  et  I'au 
tre ;  car  il  ecrit  noblement,  et  d'un  style  assez  pur 
Apres  tout,  il  n'a  pas  tant  de  feu,  que  Casimir,  !e 
quel  avoit  hien  de  1'esprit,  et  de  cet  esprit  heureuj 
qui  fait  les  po£tes.  Bucanan  a  des  odes  dignes  d« 
I'antiquite,  mais  ilaile  grandes  inegalitespar  le  m6 
lange  de  son  caractere  qui  n'est  pas  assez  uni. — R« 
flexions  sur  la  Poetique,  p.  208. 


FROM  1600  TO  1650. 


185 


of  Borbonius,  whose  Dirae  on  the  death 
of  Henry  have  not  appeared  to  my  judg- 
ment deserving  of  so  much  eulogy. 

67.  The  Germans  wrote  much  in  Latin, 
in  Germany  especially  in  the  earlier  decads 
and  Italy.      of  this  period.     Melissus  Sche- 
dius,   not   undistinguished   in   his   native 
tongue,  might  have  been  mentioned  as  a 
Latin  poet  in  the  former  volume,   since 
most  of  his  compositions  were  published 
in  the   sixteenth  century.     In   Italy  we 
have  not  many  conspicuous  names.     The 
bad  taste  that  infested  the  school  of  Mari- 
ni,  spread  also,  according  to  Tiraboschi, 
over  Latin  poetry.     Martial,  Lucan,  and 
Claudian  became  in  their  eyes  better  mod- 
els than  Catullus  and  Virgil.     Baillet,  or, 
rather,  those  whom  he  copies,  and  among 
whom  Rossi,  author  of  the  Pinacotheca 
Virorum   illustrium,  under  the  name  of 
Erythraeus,  a  profuse  and  indiscriminating 
panegyrist,  for  the  most  part,  of  his  con- 
temporaries, furnishes  the  chief  materials, 
bestows  praise  on  Cesarini  and  Queren- 
ghi,  whom  even  Tiraboschi  selects  from 
the   crowd,    and    Maffei    Barberini,   best 
known  as  Pope  Urban  VIII. 

68.  Holland  stood  at  the  head  of  Eu- 
in  Holland,  rope  in  this  line  of  poetry.     Gro- 
Heinsius.     tins   has  had  the  reputation  of 
writing  with  spirit,  elegance,  and  imagina- 
tion.    But  he   is   excelled  by  Heinsius. 
whose  elegies,  still  more  than  his  hexam- 
eters, may  be  ranked  high  in  modern  Lat- 
in.    The  habit,  however,  of  classical  imi- 
tation has  so  much  weakened  all  individ-  j 
ual  originality  in  these  versifiers,  that  it  is 
often  difficult  to  distinguish  them,  or  to 
pronounce  of  any  twenty  lines  that  they 
might  not  have  been  written  by  some  oth- 
er author.     Compare,  for  example,  the  el- 
egies of  Buchanan  with  those  of  Hein- 
sius, wherever  there  are  no  proper  names 
to  guide  us ;  a  more  finished  and  contin- 
ued elegance  belongs,  on  the  whole  (as  at 
least  I  should  say),  to  the  latter,  but  in  a 
short  passage  this  may  not  be  perceptible, 
and  1  believe  few  would  guess  with  much 
confidence   between  the  two.     Heinsius, 
however,  like  most  of  .the  Dutch,  is  re- 
markably fond  of  a  polysyllabic  close  in 
the  pentameter;  at  least  in  his  Juvenilia, 
which,  notwithstanding  their  title,  are  per- 
haps  better  than  his  later  productions. 
As  it  is  not  necessary  to  make  a  distinct 
head  for  the  Latin  drama,  we  may  here 
advert  to  a  tragedy  by  Heinsius,  Herodes 
Infanticida.     This  has  been  the  subject  of 
a  critique  by  Balzac,  for  the  most  part 
very  favourable  ;  and  it  certainly  contains 
some  highly  beautiful  passages.     Perhaps 
the  description  of  the  Virgin's  feelings  on 
the  Nativity,  though  praised  by  Balzac,  and 

VOL.  II.— A  A 


exquisitely  classical  in  diction,  is  not  quite 
in  the  best  taste.* 

69.  Sidonius  Hoschius,  a  Flemish  Jesu- 
it, is  extolled  by  Baillet  and  his  casimir 
authorities.  But  another  of  the  surbievius 
same  order,  Casimir  Sarbievius,  a  Pole,  is 
far  better  known,  and  in  lyric  poetry,  which 
he  almost  exclusively  cultivated,  obtained 
a  much  higher  reputation.  He  had  lived 
some  years  at  Rome,  and  is  full  of  Roman 
allusion.  He  had  read  Horace,  as  Sanna- 
zarius  had  Virgil,  and  Heinsius  Ovid,  till 
the  style  and  tone  became  spontaneous ; 
but  he  has  more  of  centonism  than  the 
other  two.  Yet,  while  he  constantly  re- 
minds us  of  Horace,  it  is  with  as  constant 
an  inferiority  ;  we  feel  that  his  Rome  was 
not  the  same  Rome  ;  that  Urban  VIII.  was 
not  Augustus,  nor  the  Polish  victories  on 
the  Danube  like  those  of  the  sons  of  Livia. 
Hence  his  flattery  of  the  great,  though  not 
a  step  beyond  that  of  his  master,  seems 
rather  more  displeasing,  because  we  have 
it  only  on  his  word  that  they  were  truly 
great.  Sarbievius  seldom  rises  high  or 
pours  out  an  original  feeling ;  but  he  is 
free  from  conceits,  never  becomes  prosa- 
ic, and  knows  how  to  put  in  good  lan- 
guage the  commonplaces  with  which  his 
subject  happens  to  furnish  him.  He  is,  to 
a  certain  degree,  in  Latin  poetry  what 
Chiabrera  is  in  Italian,  but  does  not  de- 
serve so  high  a  place.  Sarbievius  was 
perhaps  the  first  who  succeeded  much  in 
the  Alcaic  stanza,  which  the  earlier  poets 
seem  to  avoid,  or  to  use  unskilfully.  But 
he  has  many  unwarrantable  licenses  in  his 
metre,  and  even  false  quantities,  as  is  com- 
mon to  the  great  majority  of  these  Latin 
versifiers. 

70.  Caspar  Barlaeus  had  as  high  a  name, 
perhaps,  as  any  Latin  poet  of  this  Bar[ 
age.     His  rhythm  is  indeed  excel- 
lent ;  but  if  he  ever  rises  to  other  excel- 
lence. I  have  not  lighted  on  the  passages. 
A  greater  equality  I  have  never  found 
than  in  Barlaeus  ;  nothing  is  bad,  nothing 
is    striking.     It   was   the    practice   with 


*  Oculosque  nunc  hue  pavida  mine  illuc  jacit, 
Interque  matrem  virginemque  haerent  adhuc 
Suspensa  rnatris  gaudia,  ae  trepidus  pudor. 
*        *         *        ssepe,  cum  blandus  puer 
Aut  a  sopore  languidas  jactat  manus, 
Tenerisque  labris  pectus  intactum  petit, 
Virginea  subitus  ora  perfundit  rubor, 
Laudemque  matris  virginis  crimen  putat. 
A  critique  on  the  poems  of  Heinsius  will  be  found 
in  the  Retrospective  Review,  vol.  i.,  p.  49 ;  but,  not 
withstanding  the  laudatory  spirit,  which  is,  for  tha 
most  part,  too  ^discriminating  in  that  publication, 
the  reviewer  has  not  done  justice  to  Heinsius,  and 
hardly  seems,  perhaps,  a  very  competent  judge  of 
Latin  verse.    The  suffrages  of  those  who  were  so 
in  favour  of  this  Batavian  poet,  are  collected  *>; 
Baillet,  n.  1482. 


186 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


Dutchmen  on  their  marriage  to  purchase 
epithalamiums  in  hexameter  verse;  and 
the  muse  of  Barlaeus  was  in  request. 
These  nuptial  songs  are  of  course  about 
Peleus  and  Thetis,  or  similar  personages, 
interspersed  with  fitting  praises  of  the 
bride  and  bridegroom.  Such  poetry  is  not 
likely  to  rise  high.  The  epicedia,  or  fu- 
neral lamentations,  paid  for  by  the  heir, 
are  little,  if  at  all,  better  than  the  epitha- 
lamia  ;  and  the  panegyrical  effusions  on 
public  or  private  events  rather  worse. 
The  elegies  of  Barlaeus,  as  we  generally 
find,  are  superior  to  the  hexameters  ;  he 
has  here  the  same  smoothness  of  versifi- 
cation, and  a  graceful  gayety  which  gives 
us  pleasure.  In  some  of  his  elegies  and 
epistles  he  counterfeits  the  Ovidian  style 
extremely  well,  so  that  they  might  pass 
for  those  of  his  model.  Still  there  is  an 
equability,  a  recurrence  of  trivial  thoughts 
and  forms,  which,  in  truth,  is  too  much 
characteristic  of  modern  Latin  to  be  a  re- 
proach to  Barlaeus.  He  uses  the  polysyl- 
labic termination  less  than  earlier  Dutch 
poets.  One  of  the  epithalamia  of  Barte- 
rs, it  may  be  observed  before  we  leave 
him,  is  entitled  Paradisus,  and  recounts 
the  nuptials  of  Adam  and  Eve.  It  is  pos- 
sible that  Milton  may  have  seen  this  ;  the 
fourth  book  of  the  Paradise  Lost,  com- 
presses the  excessive  diffuseness  of  Bar- 
laeus, but  the  ideas  are  in  g^reat  measure 
the  same.  Yet,  since  this  must  naturally 
be  the  case,  we  cannot  presume  imitation. 
That  Milton  availed  himself  of  all  the  po- 
etry he  had  read,  we  cannot  doubt  ;  if  Lau- 
der  had  possessed  as  much  learning  as  ma- 
lignity, he  might  have  made  out  his  case 
(such  as  it  would  have  been)  without  hav- 
ing recourse  to  his  own  stupid  forgeries. 
Few  of  the  poems  of  Barlaeus  are  so  re- 
dundant as  this  ;  he  has  the  gift  of  string- 
ing together  mythological  parallels  and 
descriptive  poetry  without  stint,  and  his 
discretion  does  not  inform  him  where  to 
stop. 

71.  The  eight  books  of  Sylvae  by  Balde, 
Baide.  a  German  ecclesiastic,  are  ex- 
Greek  poems  tolled  by  Baillet  and  Bouterwek 

of  Heinsms. 


are  tumid  and  unclassical  ;  yet  some  have 
called  him  equal  to  Horace.  Heinsius 
tried  his  skill  in  Greek  verse.  His  Peplus 
Graecorum  Epigrammatum  was  published 
in  1613.  These  are  what  our  schoolboys 
would  call  very  indifferent  in  point  of  ele- 
gance, and,  as  I  should  conceive,  of  accu- 
racy :  articles  and  expletives  (as  they  used 
to  be  happily  called)  are  perpetually  em- 
ployed for  the  sake  of  the  metre,  not  of 
the  sense. 
72.  Scotland  might  perhaps  compete 


with  Holland  in  this  as  well  as  ,  ,. 

,  „        Latin  poets 

in  the  preceding  age.  IntheDe-  of  Scotland 
litiae  Poetarum  Scotorum,  pub-  Jonston's 
lished  in  1637  by  Arthur  Jon-  Pl 
ston,  we  find  about  an  equal  produce  of 
each  century,  the  whole  number  being 
thirty-seven.  Those  of  Jonston  himself, 
and  some  elegies  by  Scot  of  Scotstarvet, 
are  among  the  best.  The  Scots  certainly 
wrote  Latin  with  a  good  ear  and  consider- 
able elegance  of  phrase.  A  sort  of  crit- 
ical controversy  was  carried  on  in  the  last 
century  as  to  the  versions  of  the  Psalms 
by  Buchanan  and  Jonston.  Though  the 
national  honour  may  seem  equally  secure 
by  the  superiority  of  either,  it  has,  I  be- 
lieve, been  usual  in  Scotland  to  maintain 
the  older  poet  against  all  the  world.  I  am, 
nevertheless,  inclined  to  think  that  Jon- 
ston's Psalms,  all  of  which  are  in  elegiac 
metre,  do  not  fall  short  of  those  of  Bur 
chanan,  either  in  elegance  of  style  or  in 
correctness  of  Latinity.  In  the  137th, 
with  which  Buchanan  has  taken  much 
pains,  he  may  be  allowed  the  preference, 
but  not  at  a  great  interval,  and  he  has  at- 
tained this  superiority  by  too  much  dif- 
fuseness. 

73.  Nothing  good,  and  hardly  tolerable, 
in  a  poetical  sense,  had  appear-  Owen's  Epi 
ed  in  Latin  verse  among  our-  grams, 
selves  till  this  period.  Owen's  Epigrams 
(Audoeni  Epigrammata),  a  well-known 
collection,  were  published  in  1607 ;  une- 
qual enough,  they  are  sometimes  neat,  and 
more  often  witty :  but  they  scarcely  as- 
pire to  the  name  of  poetry.  Ala-  Alabaster's 
baster,  a  man  of  recondite  He-  R<wana. 
brew  learning,  published  in  1632  his  tra- 
gedy of  Roxana,  which,  as  he  tells  us,  was 
written  about  forty  years  before  for  one 
night's  representation,  probably  at  college, 
but  had  been  lately  printed  by  some  pla- 
giary as  his  own.  He  forgets,  however, 
to  inform  the  reader,  and  thus  lays  him- 
self open  to  some  recrimination,  that  his 
tragedy  is  very  largely  borrowed  from  the 
Dalida  of  Groto,  an  Italian  dramatist  of 
the  sixteenth  century.*  The  story,  the 
characters,  the  incidents,  almost  every 
successive  scene,  many  thoughts,  descrip- 
tions, and  images,  are  taken  from  this  ori- 
ginal ;  but  it  is  a  very  free  translation,  or, 
rather,  differs  from  what  can  be  called  a 


*  I  am  indebted  for  the  knowledge  of  this  to  a 
manuscript  note  I  found  in  the  copy  of  Alabaster's 
Roxana  in  the  British  Museum  :  Haud  multum 
abest  haec  tragedia  a  pura  versione  tragedise  Italics 
Ludovici  Groti  Caeci  Hadriensis  cui  titulus  Dalida. 
This  induced  me  to  read  the  tragedy  of  Groto, 
which  I  had  not  previously  done. 

The  title  of  Roxana  runs  thus :  Roxana  tragedia 
a  plagiarii  nnguibus  vindicata  aucta  et  agnita  ab 
autore  Gul  Alabastro,  Lond.,  1632. 


FROM  1GOO  TO  1650. 


187 


translation.     The   tragedy   of   Groto    is 
shortened,  and  Alabaster  has  thrown  much 
into   another   form,   besides   introducing 
much  of  his  own.     The  plot  is  full  of  all 
the  accumulated  horror  and  slaughter  in 
which    the    Italians    delighted    on    their 
stage.     I  rather  prefer  the  original  trage- 
dy.    Alabaster  has  spirit  and  fire,  with 
some  degree  of  skill ;  but  his  notion  of 
tragic  style  is  of  the  "  King  Cambyses' 
vein ;"  he  is  inflated  and  hyperbolical  to 
excess,  which  is  not  the  case  with  Groto. 
74.  But   the  first  Latin  poetry  which 
May's  sup-  England  can  vaunt  is  May's  Sup- 
plement to  plement  to  Lucan,  in  seven  books, 
Lucan.       which  carry  down  the  history  of 
the  Pharsalia  to  the  death  of  Caesar.    This 
is  not  only  a  very  spirited  poem,  but,  in 
many  places  at  least,  an  excellent  imita- 
tion.    The  versification,   though   it   fre- 
quently reminds  us  of  his  model,  is  some- 
what more  negligent.     May  seems  rarely 
to  fall  into  Lucan's  tumid  extravagances, 
or  to  emulate  his  philosophical  grandeur  ; 
but  the  narration  is  almost  as  impetuous 
and  rapid,  the  images  as  thronged ;  and 
sometimes  we  have  rather  a  happy  imita- 
tion of  the  ingenious  sophisms  Lucan  is 
apt  to  employ.     The  death  of  Cato  and 
that  of  Caesar  are  among  the   passages 
well  worthy  of  praise.     In  some  lines  on 
Cleopatra's    intrigue    with    Caesar,  being 
married   to  her  brother,  he  has   seized, 
with  felicitous  effect,  not  only  on  the  bro- 
ken cadences,  but  the  love  of  moral  para- 
dox we  find  in  Lucan.* 

75.  Many  of  the  Latin  poems  of  Milton 
Milton's  Lat-  were  written  in  early  life,  some 
in  poems,  even  at  the  age  of  seventeen. 
His  name,  and  the  just  curiosity  of  man- 
kind to  trace  the  development  of  a  mighty 
genius,  would  naturally  attract  our  regard. 
They  are  in  themselves  full  of  classical 
elegance,  of  thoughts  natural  and  pleas- 


*  Nee  crimen  inesse 

Concubitu  nimium  tali,  Cleopatra,  putahunt 
Qui  Ptoleinajorum  thalamos,  consuetaque  jura 
Incests:  novere  domus,  fratremque  sorori 
Conjugio  junctam,  sacrae  sub  nomine  tsedae 
Majus  adulterio  delictum  ;  turpius  isset, 
Quis  credat?  justi  ad  thalamos  Cleopatra  mariti, 
Utque  minus  lecto  peccaret,  adultera  facta  est. 


ing,  of  a  diction  culled  with  taste  from 
the  gardens  of  ancient  poetry,  of  a  versi- 
fication  remarkably  well   cadenced,  and 
grateful  to  the  ear.     There  is  in  them, 
without  a  marked  originality,  which  Latin 
verse  can  rarely  admit  but  at  the  price  of 
some  incorrectness  or  impropriety,  a  more 
individual  display  of  the  poet's  mind  than 
we  usually  find.     "  In  the  elegies,"  it  is 
said  by  Warton,  a  very  competent  judge 
of  Latin  poetry,  "  Ovid  was  professedly 
Milton's  model  for  language  and  versifi- 
cation.    They  are  not,  however,  a  per- 
petual and  uniform  tissue  of  Ovidian  phra- 
seology.    With  Ovid  in  view,  he  has  an 
original  manner  and  character  of  his  own, 
which  exhibit  a  remarkable  perspicuity 
of  contexture,  a  native  facility  and  fluen- 
cy.    Nor  does  his  observation  of  Roman 
models  oppress  or  destroy  our  great  po- 
et's  inherent  powers   of   invention    and 
sentiment.     1  value  these  pieces  as  much 
for  their  fancy  and  genius  as  for  their 
style  and  expression.     That  Ovid,  among 
the  Latin  poets,  was  Milton's  favourite, 
appears  not  only  from  his  elegiac,  but  his 
hexametric  poetry.     The  versification  of 
our  author's  hexameters  has  yet  a  differ- 
ent structure  from  that  of  the  Metamor- 
phoses :  Milton's  is  more  clear,  intelligi- 
ble, and  flowing ;  less  desultory,  less  fa- 
miliar, and  less  embarrassed,  with  a  fre- 
quent recurrence  of  periods.     Ovid  is  at 
once  rapid  and  abrupt."*    Why  Warton 
should  have  at  once  supposed  Ovid  to  be 
Milton's  favourite  model  in  hexameters, 
and  yet  so  totally  different  as  he  repre- 
sents him  to  be,  seems  hard  to  say.     The 
structure   of  our   poet's    hexameters    is 
much  more  Virgilian,  nor  do  I  see  the 
least  resemblance  in  them  to  the  manner 
of  Ovid.     These  Latin  poems  of  Milton 
bear  some  traces  of  juvenility,  but,  foi 
the  most  part,  such  as  please  us  for  that 
very  reason  ;  it  is  the  spring-time  of  an 
ardent  and  brilliant  fancy,  before  the  stern 
and  sour  spirit  of  polemical   puritanism 
had  gained  entrance  into  his  mind,  the 
voice  of  the  Allegro  and  of  Comus. 


*  Warton's  essay  on  the  poetry  of  Milton,  insert- 
ed at  length  in  Todd's  edition. 


188 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


CHAPTER  VI. 

HISTORY    OF    DRAMATIC    LITERATURE    FROM    1600    TO    1650. 


SECT.  I      ON  THE  ITALIAN  AND  SPANISH 
DRAMA. 

Character  of  the  Italian  Theatre  in  this  Age  — 
Bonarelli. — The  Spanish  Theatre. — Calderon. — 
Appreciation  of  his  Merits  as  a  Dramatic  Poet. 

1.  THE  Italian  theatre,  if  we  should  be- 
Deciine  of  lieve  one  of  its  historians,  fell 
the  Italian  into  total  decay  during  the  whole 
theatre.       course  of  the  seventeenth  centu- 
ry, though  the  number  of  dramatic  pieces 
of  various  kinds  was  by  no  means  small. 
He  makes  a  sort  of  apology  for  inserting 
in  a  copious  list  of  dramatic  performances 
any  that  appeared  after  1600,  and  stops 
entirely  with  1650.*    But  in  this  he  seems 
hardly  to  have   done  justice  to   a  few, 
which,  if  not  of  remarkable  excellence, 
might   be   selected   from  the  rest.     An- 
dreini  is  perhaps  best  known  by  name  in 
England,  and   that   for  one   only  of  his 
eighteen  dramas,  the  Adamo,  which  has 
been  supposed,  on  too  precarious  grounds, 
to  have  furnished  the  idea  of  Paradise 
Lost  in  the  original  form,  as  it  was  planned 
by  its  great  author.      The   Adamo  was 
first  published  in  1613,  and  afterward,  with 
amplification,  in  1641.     It  is  denominated 
"  A  Sacred  Representation ;"  and,  as  An- 
dreini  was  a  player  by  profession,  must 
be  presumed  to  have  been  brought  upon 
the  stage.     It  is,  however,  asserted   by 
Riccoboni,  that  those  who  wrote  regular 
tragedies  did  not  cause  them  to  be  repre- 
sented ;  probably  he  might  have  scrupled 
to  give  that  epithet  to  the  Adamo.     Hay- 
ley  and  Walker  have  reckoned  it  a  com- 
position of  considerable  beauty. 

2.  The  majority  of  Italian  tragedies  in 
the  seventeenth  century  were  taken,  like 
the  Adamo,  from  sacred  subjects,  inclu- 
ding such  as  ecclesiastical  legends  abun- 
dantly supplied.     Few  of  these  gave  suf- 
ficient scope,  either  by  action  or  charac- 
ter, for  the  diversity  of  excitement  which 
the  stage  demands.    Tragedies  more  truly 
deserving  that  name  were  the  Solimano 
of  Bonarelli,  the  Tancredi  of  Campeggio, 
the  Demetrius  of  Rocco,  which  Salfi  pre- 
fers to  the  rest,  and  the  Aristodemo  of 
Carlo   de   Dottori.     A  drama  by   Testi, 
L'Isola  di  Alcina,  had  some  reputation  ; 
but  in  this,  which  the  title  betrays  not  to 

*  Riccoboni,  Hist,  du  Theatre  Italien,  vol.  i. 


be  a  legitimate  tragedy,  he  introduced 
musical  airs,  and  thus  trod  on  the  bound- 
aries of  a  rival  art.*  It  has  been  sug- 
gested, with  no  inconsiderable  probabili- 
ty, that  in  her  passion  for  the  melodrame, 
Italy  lost  all  relish  for  the  graver  tone  of 
tragedy.  Music,  at  least  the  music  of  the 
opera,  conspired  with  many  more  impor- 
tant circumstances  to  spread  an  effemi- 
nacy over  the  public  character. 

3.  The  pastoral  drama  had  always  been 
allied  to  musical  sentiment,  even  „. 

,  ,     .          .    ,  ,    ,  .,,      •  Fillidi  sciro. 

though  it  might  be  without  ac- 
companiment. The  feeling  it  inspired 
was  nearly  that  of  the  opera.  In  this 
style  we  find  one  imitation  of  Tasso  and 
Guarini,  inferior  in  most  qualities,  yet  de- 
serving some  regard,  and  once  popular 
even  with  the  critics  of  Italy.  This  was 
the  Filli  di  Sciro  of  Bonarelli,  published 
at  Ferrara,  a  city  already  fallen  into  the 
hands  of  priests,  but  round  whose  deserted 
palaces  the  traditions  of  poetical  glory 
still  lingered,  in  1607.  and  represented  by 
an  academy  in  the  same  place  soon  after- 
ward. It  passed  through  numerous  edi- 
tions, and  "was  admired,  even  beyond  the 
Alps,  during  the  whole  century,  and  per- 
haps still  longer.  It  displays  much  of  the 
bad  taste  and  affectation  of  that  period. 
Bonarelli  is  as  strained  in  the  construction 
of  his  story  and  in  his  characters  as  he  is 
in  his  style.  Celia,  the  heroine  of  this 
pastoral,  struggles  with  a  double  love,  the 
original  idea,  as  he  might  'truly  think,  of 
his  drama,  which  he  wrote  a  long  disser- 
tation in  order  to  justify.  It  is,  however, 
far  less  conformable  to  the  truth  of  nature 
than  to  the  sophisticated  society  for  which 
he  wrote.  A  wanton,  capricious  court  lady 
might  perhaps  waver,  with  some  warmth 
of  inclination  towards  both,  between  two 
lovers,  "Alme  dell'  alma  mia,"  as  Celia 
calls  them,  and  be  very  willing  to  possess 
either.  But  what  is  morbid  in  moral  affec- 
tion seldom  creates  sympathy,  or  is  fit 
either  for  narrative  poetry  or  the  stage. 
Bonarelli's  diction  is  studied  and  polished 
to  the  highest  degree  ;  and  though  its  false 
refinement  and  affected  graces  often  dis- 


*  Salfi,  Continuation  de  Ginguene,  vol.  xii.,chap. 
9.  Besides  this  larger  work,  Salfi  published,  in 
1829,  a  short  essay  on  the  Italian  stage,  Saggio 
Storico-Critico  della  Commedia  Italiana. 


FROM  1600  TO  1650. 


189 


please  us,  the  real  elegance  of  insulated 
passages  makes  us  pause  to  admire.  In 
harmony  and  sweetness  of  sound  he  seems 
fully  equal  to  his  predecessors  Tasso  and 
Guarini ;  but  he  has  neither  the  pathos  ol 
the  one  nor  the  fertility  of  the  other.  The 
language  and  turn  of  thought  seems,  more 
than  in  the  Pastor  Fido,  to  be  that  of  the 
opera,  wanting,  indeed,  nothing  but  the 
intermixture  of  air  to  be  perfectly  adapted 
to  music.  Its  great  reputation,  which  even 
Crescimbeni  does  his  utmost  to  keep  up, 
proves  the  decline  of  good  taste  in  Italy, 
and  the  lateness  of  its  revival.* 

4.  A  new  fashion,  which  sprung  up  about 
Translations  1620,  both  marks  the  extinction 
of  Spanish     of  a  taste  for  genuine  tragedy, 

dramas.  an^   jjy  fumish.ing  a   substitute, 

stood  in  the  way  of  its  revival.  Transla- 
tions from  Spanish  tragedies  and  tragi- 
comedies, those  of  Lope  de  Vega  and  his 
successors,  replaced  the  native  muse  of 
Italy.  These  were  in  prose  and  in  three 
acts ;  irregular,  of  course,  and  with  very 
different  characteristics  from  those  of  the 
Italian  school.  "  The  very  name  of  tra- 
gedy," says  Riccoboni,  "  became  unknown 
in  our  country ;  the  monsters  which  usurped 
the  place  did  not  pretend  to  that  glorious 
title.  Tragi-comedies  rendered  from  the 
Spanish,  such  as  Life  is  a  Dream  (of  Cal- 
deron),  the  Samson,  the  Guest  of  Stone, 
and  others  of  the  same  class,  were  the 
,'jpular  ornaments  of  the  Italian  stage. "f 

5.  The  extemporaneous  comedy  had  al- 
Kxtempo-  ways  been  the  amusement  of  the 
raneous     Italian  populace,  not  to  say  of  all 
comedy.    wjlo  wish.ed  to  unbend  their  minds. 
An  epoch  in  this  art  was  made  in  1611  by 
Flaminio  Scala,  who  first  published  the  out- 
line or  canvass  of  a  series  of  these  pieces, 
the  dialogue  being,  of  course,  reserved  for 
the  ingenious  performers.^    This  outline 
was  not  quite  so  short  as  that  sometimes 
given  in  Italian  playbills ;  it  explained  the 
drift  of  each  actor's  part  in  the  scene,  but 
without  any  distinct  hint  of  what  he  was 
to  say.     The  construction  of  these  fables 
is  censured  by  Riccoboni  as  both  weak 


*  Istoria  della  volgar  Poesia,  iv.,  147.  He  places 
(be  Filli  di  Sciro  next  to  the  Aminta. 

t  Hist,  du  Theatre  Italien,  i.,  47.  The  extem- 
poraneous comedy  was  called  commedia  dell'  arte 
"  It  consisted,"  says  Salfi,  "  in  a  mere  sketch  or 
plan  of  a  dramatic  composition,  the  parts  in  which, 
having  been  hardly  shadowed  out,  were  assigned  to 
different  actors,  who  were  to  develop  them  in  ex- 
temporaneous dialogue.  Such  a  sketch  was  called 
a  scenario,  containing  the  subject  of  each  scene, 
and  those  of  Flaminio  Scala  were  celebrated  " — 
Saggio  Storico-Critico,  p.  38.  The  pantomime,  as 
it  exists  among  us,  is  the  descendant  of  this  extem- 
poraneous comedy,  but  with  little  of  the  wit  and 
•pirit  of  its  progenitor. 

t  Salfi,  p.  40. 


and  licentious  ;  but  it  would  not  be  reason- 
able to  expect  that  it  should  be  otherwise. 
The  talent  of  the  actors  supplied  the  de- 
ficiency of  writers.  A  certain  quickness 
of  wit,  and  tact  in  catchii  g  the  shades  of 
manner,  comparative!/  rare  among  us,  are 
widely  diffused  in  Italy.  It  would  be,  we 
may  well  suspect,  impossible  to  establish 
an  extemporaneous  theatre  in  England 
which  should  not  be  stupidly  vulgar.*  But 
Bergamo  sent  out  many  Harlequins,  and 
Venice  many  Pantalons.  They  were  re- 
spected, as  brilliant  wit  ought  to  be.  The 
Emperor  Mathias  ennobled  Cecchini,  a  fa- 
mous Harlequin,  who  was,  however,  a  man 
of  letters.  These  actors  sometimes  took 
the  plot  of  old  comedies  as  their  out- 
line, and  disfigured  them,  so  as  hardly  to 
be  known,  by  their  extemporaneous  dia- 
logue, f 

6.  Lope  de  Vega  was  at  the  height  of 
his  glory  at  the  beginning  of  this  Spanish 
century.  Perhaps  the  majority  of  Sla8e- 
his  dramas  fall  within  it ;  but  enough  has 
been  said  on  the  subject  in  the  former  vol- 
ume. His  contemporaries  and  immediate 
successors  were  exceedingly  numerous ; 
the  effulgence  of  dramatic  literature  in 
Spain  corresponding  exactly  in  time  to  that 
of  England.  Several  are  named  by  Bouter- 
wek  and  Velasquez ;  but  one  only,  Pedro 
Calderon  de  la  Barca,  must  be  caideron: 
permitted  to  arrest  us.  This  cele-  Number  of 
brated  man  was  born  in  1600,  and  hls  P'eces- 
died  in  1683.  From  an  early  age  till  after 
the  middle  of  the  century,  when  he  enter- 
ed the  Church,  he  contributed,  with  a  fer- 
tility only  eclipsed  by  that  of  Lope,  a  long 
list  of  tragic,  comic,  and  tragi-comic  dra- 
mas to  the  Spanish  stage.  In  the  latter 
period  of  his  life  he  confined  himself  to 
the  religious  pieces  called  Autos  Sacra- 
mentales.  Of  these,  97  are  published  in 


*  This  is  only  meant  as  to  dialogue  and  as  lo-the 
public  stage.  The  talent  of  a  single  actor,  like  the 
late  Charles  Mathews,  is  not  an  exception ;  but 
even  the  power  of  strictly  extemporaneous  comedy, 
with  the  agreeable  poignancy  that  the  minor  theatre 
requires,  is  not  wanting  among  some  whose  station 
and  habits  of  life  restrain  its  exercise  to  the  most 
private  circles. 

t  Riccoboni.  Hist,  du  Th6atre  Italien.  Salfi, 
xii.,  518.  An  elaborate  disquisition  on  the  extem- 
poraneous comedy  by  Mr.  Panizzi,  in  the  Foreign 
Review  for  J829  (not  the  Foreign  Quarterly,  but 
one  early  extinguished),  derives  it  from  the  mimes 
and  Atellanian  comedies  of  ancient  Italy,  tracing 
them  through  the  middle  ages.  The  point  seems 
sufficiently  proved.  The  last  company  of  perform- 
ers in  this  old,  though  plebeian  family,  existed  with- 
in  about  thirty  years  in  Lombardy  ;  a  friend  of  mine 
at  that  time  witnessed  the  last  of  the  Harlequins. 
I  need  hardly  say  that  this  character  was  not  a 
mere  skipper  over  the  stage,  but  a  very  honest  and 
lively  young  Bergarnasque.  The  plays  of  Gasparo 
Gozzi,  if  plays  they  are,  are  mere  hints  to  guide  the 
wit  of  extemporaneous  actors. 


190 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


the  collective  edition  of  1726,  besides  127 
of  his  regular  plays.  In  one  year,  1635, 
it  is  said  that  twelve  of  his  comedies  ap- 
peared ;  but  the  authenticity  of  so  large  a 
number  has  been  questioned.  He  is  said 
to  have  given  a  list  of  his  sacred  plays  at 
the  age  of  eighty,  consisting  of  only  68. 
No  collection  was  published  by  himself. 
Some  of  his  comedies,  in  the  Spanish 
sense,  it  may  be  observed,  turn  more  or 
less  on  religious  subjects,  as  their  titles 
show :  El  Purgatorio  de  San  Patricio — 
La  Devocion  de  la  Cruz — Judas  Maccabeus 
— La  Cisma  de  Inghilterra.  He  did  not 
dislike  contemporary  subjects.  In  El  Sitio 
de  Breda,  we  have  Spinola,  Nassau,  and 
others  then  living  on  the  scene.  Calde- 
ron's  metre  is  generally  trochaic,  of  eight 
or  seven  syllables,  not  always  rhyming ; 
but  verses  de  arte  mayor,  as  they  were 
called,  or  anapaestic  lines  of  eleven  or 
twelve  syllables,  and  also  hendecasylla- 
bles,  frequently  occurs 

7.  The   comedies,  those    properly  so 
His  comedies    ^Hed,  de  capa  y  cspada,  which 

represent  manners,  are  full  of 
incident,  but  not,  perhaps,  crowded  so  as 
to  produce  any  confusion  ;  the  characters 
have  nothing  very  salient,  but  express  the 
sentiments  of  gentlemen  with  frankness 
and  spirit.  We  find  in  every  one  a  pic- 
ture of  Spain ;  gallantry,  jealousy,  quick 
resentment  of  insult,  sometimes  deep  re- 
venge. The  language  of  Calderon  is  not 
unfrequently  poetical,  even  in  these  light- 
er dramas ;  but  hyperbolical  figures  and 
insipid  conceits  deform  its  beauty.  The 
gracioso.  or  witty  servant,  is  an  unfailing 
personage ;  but  I  do  not  know  (my  read- 
ing, however,  being  extremely  limited) 
that  Calderon  displays  much  brilliancy  or 
liveliness  in  his  sallies. 

8.  The  plays  of   Calderon  required  a 
good  deal  of  theatrical  apparatus,  unless 
the  good-nature  of  the  audience  dispensed 
with  it.     But  this  kind  of  comedy  must 
have  led  to  scenical  improvements.    They 
seem  to  contain  no  indecency,  nor  do  the 
intrigues  ever  become  criminal,  at  least 
in  effect ;  most  of  the  ladies,  indeed,  are 
unmarried.     Yet  they  have  been  severely 
censured  by  later  critics  on  the  score  of 
their  morality,  which  is  no  doubt  that  of 
the   stage,   but   considerably   purified  in 
comparison  with  the  Italian  and  French 
of  the  sixteenth  century.     Calderon  seems 
to  bear  no  resemblance   to  any  English 
writer  of  his  age,  except,  in  a  certain  de- 
gree, to  Beaumont  and  Fletcher.     And  as 
he  wants  their  fertility  of  wit  and  humour, 
we  cannot,  I  presume,  place  the  best  of 
his  comedies  on   a  level  with  even  the 
second  c  lass  of  theirs.    But  I  should  speak, 


perhaps,  with  more  reserve  of  an  author, 
very  few  of  whose  plays  I  have  read,  and 
with  whose  language  I  am  very  imper- 
fectly acquainted  ;  nor  should  I  have  ven- 
tured so  far  if  the  opinion  of  many  Eu- 
ropean critics  had  not  seemed  to  warrant 
my  frigid  character  of  one  who  has  some- 
times been  so  much  applauded. 

9.  La  Vida  es  Sueno  rises,  in  its  subject 
as  well  as  style,  above  the  ordi-  La  vida  es 
nary  comedies  of  Calderon.     Ba-  *uen°- 
silius,  king  of  Poland,  a  deep  philosopher, 
has,  by  consulting  the  stars,  had  the  mis- 
fortune of  ascertaining  that  his   unborn 
son  Sigismund  would  be  under  some  ex- 
traordinary influences  of  evil  passion.    He 
resolves,  in  consequence,  to  conceal  his 
birth,  and  to  bring  him  up  in  a  horrible  sol- 
itude, where,  it  hardly  appears  why,  he  is 
laden  with  chains,  and  covered  with  skins 
of  beasts,  receiving,  meantime,  an  excel- 
lent education,  and  becoming  able  to  con- 
verse on  every  subject,  though  destitute 
of  all  society  but  that  of  his  keeper  Clo- 
taldo.     The  inheritance  of  the  crown  of 
Poland  is  supposed  to  have  devolved  on 
Astolfo,  duke  of  Muscovy,  or  on  his  cous- 
in Estrella,  who,  as  daughter  of  an  elder 
branch,  contests  it  with  him.     The  play 
opens  by  a  scene,  in  which  Rosaura,  a 
Muscovite  lady,  who,  having  been  betray- 
ed by  Astolfo,  has  fled  to  Poland  in  man's 
attire,   descends   the    almost   impassable 
precipices  which  overhang  the  small  cas- 
tle wherein  Sigismund  is  confined.     This 
scene,  and  that  in  which  he  first  appears, 
are  impressive  and  full  of  beauty,  even 
now  that  we  have  become  accustomed  in 
excess  to  these  theatrical  wonders.     Clo- 
taldo  discovers  the  prince  in  conversation 
with  a  stranger,  who,  by  the  king's  gen- 
eral order,  must  be  detained,  and  probably 
for  death.     A  circumstance  leads  him  to 
believe  that  this  stranger  is  his  son ;  but 
the  Castilian  loyalty  transferred  to  Poland 
forbids  him  to  hesitate  in  obeying  his  in- 
structions.    The  king,  however,  who  has 
fortunately  determined  to  release  his  son, 
and  try  an  experiment  upon  the  force  of 
the  stars,  coming  in  at  this  time,  sets  Ro- 
saura at  liberty. 

10.  In  the  next  act,  Sigismund,  who,  by 
the  help  of  a  sleeping  potion,  has  been 
conveyed  to  the  palace,  wakes  in  a  bed 
of  down,  and  in  the  midst  of  royal  splen- 
dour.    He  has  little  difficulty  in  under- 
standing his  new  condition,  but  preserves 
a  not  unnatural  resentment  of  his  former 
treatment.     The  malign  stars  prevail ;  he 
treats  Astolfo  with  the  utmost  arrogance, 
reviles  and  threatens  his  father,  throws 
one  of  his  servants  out  of  the  window, 
attempts  the  life  of  Clotaldo  and  the  hon- 


FROM  1600  TO  1C50. 


191 


our  of  Rosaura.  The  king,  more  con- 
vinced than  ever  of  the  truth  of  astrology, 
directs  another  soporific  draught  to  be  ad- 
ministered, and  in  the  next  scene  we 
find  the  prince  again  in  his  prison.  Clo- 
taldo,  once  more  at  his  side,  persuades 
him  that  his  late  royalty  has  passed  in  a 
dream  ;  wisely  observing,  however,  that, 
asleep  or  awake,  we  should  always  do 
what  is  right. 

11.  Sigismund,  after  some  philosophical 
reflections,  prepares  to  submit  to  the  sad 
reality  which   has   displaced  his  vision. 
But,  in  the  third  act,  an  unforeseen  event 
recalls  him  to  the  world.     The  army,  be- 
come acquainted  with  his  rights,  and  in- 
dignant that  the  king  should  transfer  them 
to  Astolfo,  break  into  his  prison,  and  place 
him  at  their  head.     Clotaldo  expects  no- 
thing but  death.     A  new  revolution,  how- 
ever, has  taken  place.      Sigismund,  cor- 
rected by  the  dismal  consequences  of  giv- 
ing way  to  passion  in  his  former  dream, 
and  apprehending  a  similar  waking  once 
more,  has  suddenly  overthrown  the  sway 
of  the  sinister  constellations  that  had  en-' 
slaved  him ;  he  becomes  generous,  mild, 
and  master  of  himself;  and  the  only  pre- 
text for  his  disinheritance  being  removed, 
it  is  easy  that  he  should  be  reconciled  to 
his  father;  that  Astolfo,  abandoning  a  king- 
dom   he    can   no   longer    claim,    should 
espouse  the  injured  Rosaura,  and  that  the 
reformed  prince  should  become  the  hus- 
band of  Estrclla.     The   incidents  which 
chiefly  relate  to  these  latter  characters 
have  been  omitted  in  this  slight  analysis. 

12.  This  tragi-comedy  presents  a  moral 
not  so  contemptible  in  the  age  of  Calde- 
ron  as  it  may  now  appear ;  that  the  stars 
may  influence  our  will,  but  do  not  oblige 
it.     If  we   could  extract  an   allegorical 
meaning  from  the  chimeras  of  astrology, 
and  deem  the  stars  but  names  for  the  cir- 
cumstances of  birth  and  fortune,  which  af- 
fect the  character,  as  well  as  condition,  of 
every  man,  but  yield  to  the  persevering 
energy  of  self-correction,  we  might  see  in 
this  fable  the  shadow  of  a  permanent  and 
valuable  truth.      As   a  play  it  deserves 
considerable  praise ;  the  events  are  sur- 
prising without  excessive  improbability, 
and   succeed  each  other  without  confu- 
sion ;  the  thoughts  are  natural  and  poeti- 
cally expressed ;  and  it  requires,  on  the 
whole,  less   allowance   for  the   different 
standard  of  national  taste  than  is  usual  in 
the  Spanish  drama. 

13.  ASecreto  agravio  secreta  vengan<;a 
A  secreto    is  a  domestic  tragedy  which  turns 
agravio  se-  on  a  common  story — a  husband's 
creia  ven-   revenge  on  one  whom  he  errone- 
ously believes  to  be  still  a  favour- 


ed, and  who  had  been  once  an  accepted 
lover.  It  is  something  like  Tancred  and 
Sigismunda,  except  that  the  lover  is  killed 
instead  of  the  husband.  The  latter  puts 
|  him  to  death  secretly,  which  gives  name 
to  the  play.  He  afterward  sets  fire  to  his 
own  house,  and  in  the  confusion  design- 
edly kills  his  wife.  A  friend  communi- 
cates the  fact  to  his  sovereign,  Sebastian, 
king  of  Portugal,  who  applauds  what  has 
been  done.  It  is  an  atrocious  play,  and 
speaks  terrible  things  as  to  the  state  of 
public  sentiment  in  Spain,  but  abounds 
with  interesting  and  touching  passages. 

14.  It  has  been  objected  to  Calderon, 
and  the  following  defence  of  Bou-  style  of 
tervvek  seems  very  insufficient,  Calderon. 
that  his  servants  converse  in  a  poetical 
style  like  their  masters.  "  The  spirit,  on 
these  particular  occasions,"  says  that  ju- 
dicious but  lenient  critic,  "must  not  be 
misunderstood.  The  servants  in  Calde- 
ron's  comedies  always  imitate  the  lan- 
guage of  their  masters.  In  most  cases 
they  express  themselves  like  the  latter, 
in  the  natural  language  of  real  life,  and 
often  divested  of  that  colouring  of  the 
ideas,  without  which  a  dramatic  work 
ceases  to  be  a  poem.  But,  whenever  ro- 
mantic gallantry  speaks  in  the  language 
of  tenderness,  admiration,  or  flattery,  then, 
according  to  Spanish  custom,  every  idea 
becomes  a  metaphor ;  and  Calderon,  who 
was  a  thorough  Spaniard,  seized  these 
opportunities  to  give  the  reins  to  his  fan- 
cy, and  to  suffer  it  to  take  a  bold  lyric 
flight  beyond  the  boundaries  of  nature. 
On  such  occasions  the  most  extravagant 
metaphoric  language,  in  the  style  of  the 
Italian  Marinists,  did  not  appear  unnatural 
to  a  Spanish  audience ;  and  even  Calderon 
himself  had  for  that  style  a  particular 
fondness,  to  the  gratification  of  which  he 
sacrificed  a  chaster  taste.  It  was  his  am- 
bition to  become  a  more  refined  Lope  de 
Vega  or  a  Spanish  Marini.  Thus  in  his 
play,  Bien  vengas  mal,  si  vengas  solo,  a 
waiting-maid,  addressing  her  young  mis- 
tress, who  has  risen  in  a  gay  humour,  says, 
1  Aurora  would  not  have  done  wrong  had 
she  slumbered  that  morning  in  her  snowy 
crystal,  for  that  the  sight  of  her  mistress's 
charms  would  suffice  to  draw  aside  the 
curtains  from  the  couch  of  Sol.'  She 
adds  that,  using  a  Spanish  idea,  '  it  might 
then,  indeed,  be  said  that  the  sun  had  ris- 
en in  her  lady's  eyes.'  Valets,  on  the  like 
occasion,  speak  in  the  same  style;  and 
when  lovers  address  compliments  to  theii 
mistresses,  and  these  reply  in  the  same 
strain,  the  play  of  far-fetched  metaphors 
is  aggravated  by  antitheses  to  a  degree 
which  is  intolerable  to  any  but  a  Spanish- 


192 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


formed  taste.  But  it  must  not  be  forgot- 
ten that  this  language  of  gallantry  was  in 
Calderon's  time  spoken  by  the  fashion- 
able world,  and  that  it  was  a  vernacular 
property  of  the  ancient  national  poetry." 
What  is  this  but  to  confess  that  Calderon 
had  not  genius  to  raise  himself  above  his 
age,  and  that  he  can^  be  read  only  as  a 
''  Triton  of  the  minnows ;"  one  who  is 
great  but  in  comparison  with  his  neigh- 
bours 1  It  will  not  convert  bad  writing 
into  good  to  tell  us,  as  is  perpetually  done, 
that  we  must  place  ourselves  in  the  au- 
thor's position,  and  make  allowances  for 
the  taste  of  his  age  or  the  temper  of  his 
'nation.  All  this  is  true  relatively  to  the 
author  himself,  and  may  be  pleaded  against 
a  condemnation  of  his  talents  ;  but  the 
excuse  of  the  man  is  not  that  of  the  work. 
15.  The  fame  of  Calderon  has  been  lat- 
ms  merits  terly  revived  in  Europe  through 
sometimes  the  praise  of  some  German  crit- 
overrated.  jCS)  but  especially  the  unbounded 
panegyric  of  one  of  their  greatest  men, 
William  Schlegel.  The  passage  is  well 
known  for  its  brilliant  eloquence.  Every 
one  must  differ  with  reluctance  and  re- 
spect from  this  accomplished  writer ;  and 
an  Englishman,  acknowledging  with  grat- 
itude and  admiration  what  Schlegel  has 
done  for  the  glory  of  Shakspeare,  ought 
not  to  grudge  the  laurels  he  showers  upon 
another  head.  It  is,  however,  rather  as  a 
poet  than  a  dramatist  that  Calderon  has 
received  this  homage ;  and  in  his  poetry 
it  seems  to  be  rather  bestowed  on  the 
mysticism,  which  finds  a  responsive  chord 
in  so  many  German  hearts,  than  on  what 
we  should  consider  a  more  universal  ex- 
cellence, a  sympathy  with,  and  a  power 
over  all  that  is  true  and  beautiful  in  na- 
ture and  in  man.  Sismondi  (but  the  dis- 
tance between  Weimar  and  Geneva  in 
matters  of  taste  is  incomparably  greater 
than  by  the  public  road),  dissenting  from 
this  eulogy  of  Schlegel,  which  he  fairly 
lays  before  the  reader,  stigmatizes  Calde- 
ron as  eminently  the  poet  of  the  age 
wherein  he  lived,  the  age  of  Philip  IV. 
Salfi  goes  so  far  as  to  say  we  can  hardly 
read  Calderon  without  indignation ;  since 
he  seems  to  have  had  no  view  but  to  make 
his  genius  subservient  to  the  lowest  prej- 
udices and  superstitions  of  his  country. f 
In  the  25th  volume  of  the  Quarterly  Re- 
view, an  elaborate  and  able  critique  on  the 


*  P.  507.  It  has  been  ingeniously  hinted  in  the 
Quarterly  Review,  vol.  xxv.,  that  the  high-flown 
language  of  servants  in  Spanish  dramas  is  a  parody 
on  that  of  their  masters,  and  designed  to  make  it 
ridiculous.  But  this  is  probably  too  refined  an  ex- 
cuse. 

t  Hist.  Litt.  de  Ginguen^,  vol.  xii.,  p.  499. 


plays  of  Calderon  seems  to  have  estima- 
ted him  without  prejudice  on  either  side. 
"  His  boundless  and  inexhaustible  fertility 
of  invention ;  his  quick  power  of  seizing 
and  prosecuting  everything  with  dramatic 
effect ;  the  unfailing  animal  spirits  of  his 
dramas,  if  we  may  venture  on  the  expres- 
sion ;  the  general  loftiness  and  purity  of 
his  sentiments ;  the  rich  facility  of  his 
verse,  the  abundance  of  his  language,  and 
the  clearness  and  precision  with  which  he 
imbodies  his  thoughts  in  words  and  fig- 
ures, entitle  him  to  a  high  rank  as  to  the 
imaginative  and  creative  faculty  of  a  poet, 
but  we  cannot  consent  to  enrol  him  among 
the  mighty  masters  of  the  human  breast.''* 
His  total  want  of  truth  to  nature,  even  the 
ideal  nature  which  poetry  imbodies,  justi- 
fies at  least  this  sentence.  "  The  wildest 
flights  of  Biron  and  Romeo,"  it  is  observ- 
ed, "  are  tame  to  the  heroes  of  Calderon ; 
the  Asiatic  pomp  of  expression,  the  ex- 
uberance of  metaphor,  the  perpetual  re- 
currence of  the  same  figures  which  the 
poetry  of  Spain  derived  from  its  inter- 
course with  the  Arabian  conquerors  of  the 
peninsula,  are  lavished  by  him  in  all  their 
fulness.  Every  address  of  a  lover  to  a 
mistress  is  thickly  studded  with  stars  and 
flowers ;  her  looks  are  always  nets  of 
gold,  her  lips  rubies,  and  her  heart  a  rock, 
which  the  rivers  of  his  tears  attempt  in 
vain  to  melt.  In  short,  the  language  of 
the  heart  is  entirely  abandoned  for  that  of 
the  fancy ;  the  brilliant  but  false  concetti 
which  have  infected  the  poetical  literature 
of  every  country,  and  which  have  been 
universally  exploded  by  pure  taste,  glitter 
in  every  page  and  intrude  into  every 
speech."! 


SECT.  II.     ON  THE  FRENCH  DRAMA. 

Early  French    Dramatists  of   this    Period. — Cor- 
neille. — His  principal  Tragedies. — Rotrou. 

f8.  AMONG  the  company  who  performed 
at  the  second  theatre  of  Paris,  that  piays  or 
established  in  the  Marais,  was  Hardy. 
Hardy,  who,  like  Shakspeare,  uniting  both 
arts,  was  himself  the  author  of  600,  or,  as 
some  say,  800  dramatic  pieces.  It  is  said 
that  forty-one  of  these  are  extant  in  the 
collection  of  his  works,  which  I  have  never 
seen.  Several  of  them  were  written, 
learned  by  heart,  and  represented  within 
a  week.  His  own  inventions  are  the  worst 
of  all ;  his  tragedies  and  tragi-comedies 
are  borrowed,  with  as  close  an  adherence 
to  the  original  text  as  possible,  from  Homer, 
or  Plutarch,  or  Cervantes.  They  have 


*  P.  24 


t  P.  14. 


FROM  1600  TO  1650. 


193 


more  incident  than  those  of  his  predeces- 
sors, and  are  somewhat  less  absurd ;  but 
Hardy  is  a  writer  of  little  talent.  The 
Marianne  is  the  most  tolerable  of  his 
tragedies.  In  these  he  frequently  aban- 
doned the  chorus,  and,  even  where  he  in- 
troduces it,  docs  not  regularly  close  the 
act  with  an  ode.* 

17.  In  the  comedies  of  Hardy,  and  in 
the   many  burlesque   farces   represented 
under  Henry  IV.  and  Louis  XIII.,  no  re- 
gard was  paid  to  decency,  either  in  the 
language  or  the  circumstances.    Few  per- 
sons of  rank,  especially  ladies,  attended 
the  theatres.f    These  were  first  attracted 
by  pastoral  representations,  of  which  Ra- 
can  gave  a  successful  example  in  his  Ar- 
tenice.   It  is  hardly,  however,  to  be  called 
a  drama.J    But  the  stage  being  no  longer 
abandoned  to  the  populace,  and  a  more 
critical  judgment  in  French  literature  gain- 
ing ground,  encouraged  by  Richelieu,  who 
built  a  large  room  in  his  palace  for  the 
representation  of  Mirame,  an  indifferent 
tragedy,  part  of  which  was  suspected  to 
>e  his  own,&  the  ancient  theatre  began  to 
be  studied,  rules  were  laid  down  and  par- 
tially observed,  a  perfect  decorum  replaced 
the  licentiousness  and  gross  language  of 
the  old  writers.   Mairet  and  Rotrou,  though 
without  rising,  in  their  first  plays,  much 
ibove  Hardy,  just  served  to  prepare  the 
way  for  the  father  and  founder  of  the  na- 
tional theatre. || 

18.  The  Melite  of  Corneille,  his  first 
production,  was  represented  in  1G29,  when 
he  was  twenty-three  years  of  age.     This 
is  only  distinguished,  as  some  say,  from 
those  of  Hardy  by  a  greater  vigour  of 
style ;  but  Fontenelle  gives  a  very  differ- 
ent opinion.     It  had  at  least  a  success 
which  caused  a  new  troop  of  actors  to  be 
established    in   the    Marais.      His    next, 


*  Fontenelle,  Hist,  du  Theatre  Francois  (in 
fEuvres  de  Fontenelle,  iii.,  72).  Suard,  Melanges 
de  Litterature,  vol.  iv. 

t  Suard,  p.  134.  Rotrou  boasts,  that  since  he 
wrote  for  the  theatre,  it  had  become  so  well  rpgn- 
l;-:ted  that  respectable  women  might  go  to  it  with  as 
little  scruple  as  to  the  Luxembourg  garden  Cor- 
neille, however,  has  in  general  the  credit  of  having 
purified  the  stage  ;  after  his  second  piece,  Clitan- 
dre,  he  admitted  nothing  licentious  in  his  comedies. 
The  only  remain  of  grossness,  Fontenelle  observes, 
was  that  the  lovers  se  tutoyoient ;  but,  as  he  gravely 
poes  on  to  remark,  le  tutoiement  ne  cheque  pas 
Irs  bonnes  mcetirs ;  il  ne  choque  que  la  politesse 
ft  la  vraie  galanterie,  p.  91.  But  the  last  instance 
of  this  heinous  offence  is  in  Le  Menteur. 

J  Suard,  ubi  supra.          t>  Fontenelle,  p.  84,  96. 

11  Id.,  p.  78.  It  is  difficult  in  France,  as  it  is  with 
us,  to  ascertain  the  date  of  plays,  because  they 
•  were  often  represented  for  years  before  they  came 
from  the  press.  It  is  conjectured  by  Fontenelle 
that  one  or  two  pieces  of  Mairet  and  Rotrou  may 
have  preceded  any  by  Corneille. 

VOL.  II.— BB 


Clitandre,  it  is  agreed,  is  not  so  good.  But 
La  Veuve  is  much  better;  irregular  in  ac- 
tion, but  with  spirit,  character,  and  well- 
invented  situations,  it  is  the  first  model  of 
the  higher  comedy.*  These  early  come- 
dies must,  in  fact,  have  been  relatively  of 
considerable  merit,  since  they  raised  Cor- 
neille to  high  reputation,  and  connected 
him  with  the  literary  men  of  his  time. 
The  Medea,  though  much  borrowed  from 
Seneca,  gave  a  tone  of  grandeur  and  dig- 
nity unknown  before  to  French  tragedy. 
This  appeared  in  1635,  and  was  followed 
by  the  Cid  next  year. 

19.  Notwithstanding  the  defence  made 
by  La  Harpe,  I  cannot  but  agree 
with  the  French  Academy,  in  their 
criticism  on  this  play,  that  the  subject  is 
essentially  ill-chosen.  No  circumstances 
can  be  imagined,  no  skill  can  be  employed, 
that  will  reconcile  the  mind  to  the  mar- 
riage of  a  daughter  with  one  that  has  shed 
her  father's  blood.  And  the  law  of  unity 
of  time,  which  crowds  every  event  of  thd 
drama  within  a  few  hours,  renders  the 
promised  consent  of  Chimene  (for  such  it 
is)  to  this  union  still  more  revolting  and 
improbable.!  The  knowledge  of  this  ter- 
mination reacts  on  the  reader  during  a 
second  perusal,  so  as  to  give  an  irresisti- 
ble impression  of  her  insincerity  in  her 
previous  solicitations  for  his  death.  She 
seems,  indeed,  in  several  passages,  little 
else  than  a  tragic  coquette,  and  one  of  the 
most  odious  kind.J  The  English  stage  at 
that  time  was  not  exempt  from  great  vio- 
lations of  nature  and  decorum  ;  yet  had 
the  subject  of  the  Cid  fallen  into  the  hands 
of  Beaumont  and  Fletcher,  and  it  is  one 
which  they  would  have  willingly  selected, 
for  the  sake  of  the  effective  situations  and 
contrasts  of  passion  it  affords,  the  part  of 
Chimene  would  have  been  managed  by 
them  with  great  warmth  and  spirit,  though 
probably  not  less  incongruity  and  extrava- 
gance ;  but  I  can  scarcely  believe  that  the 
conclusion  would  have  been  so  much  in 


*  Suard.     Fontenelle.    La  Harpe. 

t  La  Harpe  has  said  that  Chimene  does  not 
promise  at  last  to  marry  Rodrigue,  though  the 
spectator  perceives  that  she  will  do  so.  He  forgets 
that  she  has  commissioned  her  lover's  sword  in  the 
duel  with  Don  Sanrho: 

Sors  vainquenr  d'un  combat  dont  Chimene  est  le 
prix. — Act  v.,  sc.  1.  • 

J  In  these  lines,  /or  example,  of  the  third  act, 
scene  4th : 

Malgre  les  feux  si  beaux  qui  rompent  ma  colAre, 

Je  ferai  mon  possible  a  bien  venger  mon  pere  ; 

Mais  malgre  la  rigueur  d'un  si  cruel  devoir, 

Mon  unique  souhait  est  de  ne  rien  pouvoir. 

It  is  true  that  he  found  this  in  his  Spanish  ori- 
ginal, but  that  does  not  render  the  imitation  judi- 
cious, or  the  sentiment  either  moral,  or  even  theatri- 
cally specious. 


194 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


the  style  of  comedy.  Her  death,  or  re- 
tirement into  a  monastery,  would  have 
seemed  more  consonant  to  her  own  dignity 
and  to  that  of  a  tragic  subject.  Corneille 
was,  however,  borne  out  by  the  tradition 
of  Spain,  and  by  the  authority  of  Guillen, 
de  Castro,  whom  he  imitated. 

20.  The  language  of  Corneille  is  ele- 
siyic  of    vatcd ;   his   sentiments,  if  some- 
corneiiie.  times  hyperbolical,  generally  no- 
ble, when  he  has  not  to  deal  with  the 
passion  of  love  ;  conscious  of  the  nature 
of  his  own  powers,  he  has  avoided  sub- 
jects wherein  this  must  entirely  predomi- 
nate ;  it  was  to  be,  as  he  thought,  an  ac- 
cessory, but  never  a  principal  source  of 
dramatic  interest.     In  this,  however,  as  a 
general  law  of  tragedy,  he  was  mistaken  ; 
love  is  by  no  means  unfit  for  the  chief 
source  of  tragic  distress,  but  comes   in 
generally  with  a  cold  and  feeble  effect  as 
a  subordinate  emotion.     In  those  Roman 
stories  he  most  affected,  its  expression 
could  hardly  be  otherwise  than  insipid  and 
incongruous.     Corneille   probably   would 
have  dispensed  with  it,  like  Shakspeare  in 
Coriolanus    and  Julius   Csesar;    but   the 
taste  of  his   contemporaries,  formed   in 
the  pedantic  school  of  romance,  has  im- 
posed fetters  on  his  genius  in  almost  ev- 
ery drama.     In  the  Cid,  where  the  subject 
left  him  no  choice,  he  has,  perhaps,  suc- 
ceeded better  in  the  delineation  of  love 
than  on   any  other  occasion;   yet  even 
here  we  often  find  the  cold  exaggerations 
of  complimentary  verse  instead  of  the 
voice   of  nature.     But  other  scenes   of 
this  play,  especially  in  the  first  act,  which 
bring  forward  the  proud  Castilian  charac- 
ters of  the  two  fathers  of  Rodrigo  and 
Chimene,   are   full  of  the   nervous    elo- 
quence of    Corneille ;    and    the    general 
style,  though  it  may  not  have  borne  the 
fastidious  criticism  either  of  the  Academy 
or  of  Voltaire,  is  so  far  above  anything 
which  had  been    heard   on   the    French 
stage,  that  it  was  but  a  very  frigid  eulogy 
in  the  former  to  say  that  it  "  had  acquired 
a  considerable  reputation  among  works 
of  the  kind."    It  had  at  that  time  aston- 
ished Paris  ;  but  the  prejudices  of  Cardi- 
nal Richelieu  and  the  envy  of  inferior  au- 
thors, joined,  perhaps,  to  the  proverbial 
unwillingness  of  critical  bodies  to  commit 
themselves  by  warmth  of  praise,  had  some 
degree  of  influence  on  the  judgment  which 
the    Academy   pronounced  on  the    Cid, 
though  I  do  not  think  it  was  altogether  so 
unjust  and  uncandid  as  has   sometimes 
been  supposed. 

21.  The  next  tragedy  of  Corneille,  Les 

Horaces,  is  hardly  open  to  less 
ces'  objection  than  the  Cid ;  not  so 


much  because  there  is,  as  the  French 
critics  have  discovered,  a  want  of  unity 
in  the  subject,  which  I  do  not  quite  per- 
ceive, nor  because  the  fifth  act  is  tedious 
and  uninteresting,  as  from  the  repulsive- 
ness  of  the  story,  and  the  jarring  of  the 
sentiments  with  our  natural  sympathies, 
Corneille  has  complicated  the  legend  in 
Livy  with  the  marriage  of  the  younger 
Horatius  to  the  sister  of  the  Curiatii,  and 
thus  placed  his  two  female  personages  in 
a  nearly  similar  situation,  which  he  has 
taken  little  pains  to  diversify  by  any  con- 
trast in  their  characters.  They  speak,  on 
the  contrary,  nearly  in  the  same  tone ; 
and  we  see  no  reason  why  the  hero  of 
the  tragedy  should  not,  as  he  seems  half 
disposed,  have  followed  up  the  murder  of 
his  sister  by  that  of  his  wife.  More  skill 
is  displayed  in  the  opposition  of  character 
between  the  combatants  themselves  ;  but 
the  mild,  though  not  less  courageous  or 
patriotic  Curiatius  attaches  the  spectator, 
who  cares  nothing  for  the  triumph  of 
Rome  or  the  glory  of  the  Horatian  name. 
It  must  be  confessed  that  the  elder  Hora- 
tius is  nobly  conceived ;  the  Roman  ener- 
gy, of  which  we  find  but  a  caricature  in  his 
brutish  son,  shines  out  in  him  with  an  ad- 
mirable dramatic  spirit.  I  shall  be  accu- 
sed, nevertheless,  of  want  of  taste,  when 
I  confess  that  his  celebrated  Qu'il  mour&t 
has  always  seemed  to  me  less  eminent- 
ly sublime  than  the  general  suffrage  of 
France  has  declared  it.  There  is  nothing 
very  novel  or  striking  in  the  proposition, 
that  a  soldier's  duty  is  to  die  in  the  field 
rather  than  desert  his  post  by  flight ;  and 
in  a  tragedy  full  of  the  hyperboles  of  Ro- 
man patriotism,  it  appears  strange  that  we 
should  be  astonished  at  that  which  is  the 
principle  of  all  military  honour.  The 
words  are  emphatic  in  their  position,  and 
calculated  to  draw  forth  the  actor's  ener- 
gy ;  but  this  is  an  artifice  of  no  great 
skill ;  and  one  can  hardly  help  thinking 
that  a  spectator  in  the  pit  would  sponta- 
neously have  anticipated  the  answer  of  a 
warlike  father  to  the  feminine  question, 

Que  vouliez-vous  qu'il  fit  contre  trois  ? 

The  style  of  this  tragedy  is  reckoned  by 
the  critics  superior  to  that  of  the  Cid  ; 
the  nervousness  and  warmth  of  Corneille 
is  more  displayed ;  and  it  is  more  free 
from  incorrect  and  trivial  expression. 

22.  Cinna,  the  next  in  order  of  time,  is 
probably  that  tragedy  of  Corneille  Cinn^ 
which  would  be  placed  at  the  head 
by  a  majority  of  suffrages.  His  elo- 
quence reached  here  its  highest  point ; 
the  speeches  are  longer,  more  vivid  in 
narration,  more  philosophical  in  argu- 


FROM  1600  TO  1650. 


195 


ment,  more  abundant  in  that  strain  of 
Roman  energy  which  he  had  derived 
chiefly  from  Lucan,  more  emphatic  and 
condensed  in  their  language  and  versifi- 
cation. But,  as  a  drama,  this  is  deserv- 
ing of  little  praise ;  the  characters  of 
Cinna  and  Maximus  are  contemptible ; 
that  of  Emilia  is  treacherous  and  un- 
grateful. She  is,  indeed,  the  type  ,of  a 
numerous  class,  who  have  followed  her  in 
works  of  fiction,  and  sometimes,  unhap- 
pily, in  real  life  ;  the  female  patriot,  the- 
oretically, at  least,  an  assassin,  but  com- 
monly compelled,  by  the  iniquity  of  the 
times,  to  console  herself  in  practice  with 
safer  transgressions.  We  have  had  some 
specimens  ;  and  other  nations,  to  their 
shame  and  sorrow,  have  had  more.  But 
even  the  magnanimity  of  Augustus,  whom 
we  have  not  seen  exposed  to  instant  dan- 
ger, is  uninteresting ;  nor  do  we  perceive 
why  he  should  bestow  his  friendship,  as 
well  as  his  forgiveness,  on  the  detected 
traitor  that  cowers  before  him.  It  is  one 
of  those  subjects  which  might,  by  the  in- 
vention of  a  more  complex  plot  than  his- 
tory furnishes,  have  better  excited  the 
spectator's  attention,  but  not  his  sympa- 
thy. 

23.  A  deeper  interest  belongs  to  Poly- 
Pol  eucte  euct;e  ;  and  this  is  the  only  trage- 
dy of  ^Corneille  wherein  he  af- 
fects the  heart.  *  There  is,  indeed,  a  cer- 
tain incongruity  which  we  cannot  over- 
come between  the  sanctity  of  Christian 
martyrdom  and  the  language  of  love,  es- 
pecially when  the  latter  is  rather  the 
more  prominent  of  the  two  in  the  con- 
duct of  the  drama.*  But  the  beautiful 
character  of  Pauline  would  redeem  much 
greater  defects  than  can  be  ascribed  to 
this  tragedy.  It  is  the  noblest,  perhaps, 
on  the  French  stage,  and  conceived  Avith 
admirable  delicacy  and  dignity. f  In  the 
style,  however,  of  Polyeucte,  there  seems 
to  be  some  return  towards  the  languid 


*  The  coterie  at  the  Hotel  Rambonillet  thought 
that  Polyencte  would  not  succeed,  on  account  of 
its  religious  character.  Corneille,  it  is  said,  was 
about  to  withdraw  his  tragedy,  but  was  dissuaded 
by  an  actor  of  so  little  reputation  that  he  did  not 
even  bear  a  part  in  the  performance. — Fontenelle, 
p.  101. 

•f-  Fontenelle  thinks  that  it  shows  "  un  grand  at- 
tachement  a  son  devoir,  et  un  grand  caracterel?  in 
Pauline  to  desire  that  Severus  should  save  her  hus- 
band's life,  instead  of  procuring  the  latter  to  be  ex- 
ecuted that  she  might  marry  her  lover. — Reflexions 
sur  la  Poetique,  sect.  16.  This  is  rather  an  odd 
notion  of  what  is  sufficient  to  constitute  an  heroic 
character.  It  is  not  the  conduct  of  Pauline,  which 
in  every  Christian  and  virtuous  woman  must  natu- 
rally be  the  same,  but  the  fine  sentiments  and  lan- 
guage which  accompany  it,  that,  render  her  part  so 
noble. 


tone  of  commonplace,  which  had  been 
wholly  thrown  off  in  Cinna.* 

24.  Rodogune  is  said  to  have  been  a  fa- 
vourite  with  the  author.     It  can 
hardly  be  so  with  the  generality 

of  his  readers.  The  story  has  all  the 
atrocity  of  the  older  school,  from  which 
Corneille  had  emancipated  the  stage.  It 
borders  even  on  ridicule.  Two  princes, 
kept  by  their  mother— one  of  those  furies 
whom  our  own  Webster  or  Marston  would 
have  delighted  to  draw — in  ignorance  which 
is  the  elder,  and  consequently  entitled  to 
the  throne,  are  enamoured  of  Rodogune. 
Their  mother  makes  it  a  condition  of  de. 
claring  the  succession,  that  they  shall  shed, 
the  blood  of  this  princess.  Struck  with 
horror  at  such  a  proposition,  they  refer 
their  passion  to  the  choice  of  Rodogune, 
who,  in  her  turn,  demands  the  death  of 
their  mother.  The  embarrassment  of 
these  amiable  youths  may  be  conceived^ 
La  Harpe  extols  the  first  act  of  this  tra- 
gedy, and  it  may  perhaps  be  effective  in 
representation. 

25.  Pompey,    sometimes   inaccurately 
called  the  Death  of  Pompey,  is  Pom 
more    defective    in    construction 

than  even  any  other  tragedy  of  Corneille. 
The  hero,  if  Pompey  is  such,  never  ap- 
pears on  the  stage  ;  and  his  death  being  re- 
counted at  the  beginning  of  the  second  act, 
the  real  subject  of  the  piece,  so  far  as  it 
can  be  said  to  have  one,  is  the  punish- 
ment of  his  assassins;  a  retribution  de- 
manded by  the  moral  sense  of  the  specta- 
tor, but  hardly  important  enough  for  dra- 
matic interest.  The  character  of  Caesar 
is  somewhat  weakened  by  his  passion  for 
Cleopatra,  which  assumes  more  the  tone 
of  devoted  gallantry  than  truth  or  proba- 
bility warrant ;  but  Cornelia,  though  with 
some  Lucanic  extravagance,  is  full  of  a 
Roman  nobleness  of  spirit,  which  renders 
her,  after  Pauline,  but  at  a  long  interval, 
the  finest  among  the  female  characters  of 
Corneille.  The  language  is  not  beneath 
that  of  his  earlier  tragedies. 

26.  In  Heraclius  we  begin  to  find  an  in- 
feriority of  style.     Few  passages,  HeracUu8 
especially  after  the  first  act,  are 
written  with  much  vigour;  and  the  plot, 
instead  of  the  faults  we  may  ascribe  to 
some  of  the  former  dramas,  a  too  great 
simplicity  and  want  of  action,  offends  by 
the  perplexity  of  its  situations,  and  still 
more    by   their  nature,   since   they   are 


*  In  the  second  scene  of  the  second  act,  between 
Severus  and  Paulino,  two  characters  of  the  most 
elevated  class,  the  former  quits  the  stage  with  this 
line:  Adieu,  trop  vertueux  objet,  et  trop  charmant. 
The  latter  replies,  Adieu,  trop  malheureux,  et  trop 
parfait  auiunt. 


196 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


wholly  among  the  proper  resources  of 
comedy.  The  true  and  the  false  Herac- 
lius,  each  uncertain  of  his  paternity,  each 
afraid  to  espouse  one  who  may  or  may  not 
be  his  sister ;  the  embarrassment  of  Pho- 
cas,  equally  irritated  by  both,  but  aware 
that,  in  putting  either  to  death,  he  may 
punish  his  own  son;  the  art  of  Leontine, 
who  produces  this  confusion,  not  by  si- 
lence, but  by  a  series  of  inconsistent  false- 
hoods ;  all  these  are  in  themselves  ludi- 
crous, and  such  as  in  comedy  could  pro- 
duce no  other  effect  than  laughter. 

27.  Nicomede  is  generally  placed  by  the 
. ,     critics  below  Heraclius,  an  opin- 

Nicomede.   .        .          i  •    u  T     u      ui.ii 

ion  in  which  I  should  hardly  con- 
cur. The  plot  is  feeble  and  improbable, 
but  more  tolerable  than  the  strange  en- 
tanglements of  Heraclius ;  and  the  spirit 
of  Corneille  shines  out  more  in  the  char- 
acters and  sentiments.  None  of  his  later 
tragedies  deserve  much  notice,  except  that 
we  find  one  of  his  celebrated  scenes  in 
Sertorius,  a  drama  of  little  general  merit. 
Nicomede  and  Sertorius  were  both  first 
represented  after  the  middle  of  the  century. 

28.  Voltaire  has  well  distinguished  the 
Faults  and  nne  scenes  of  Corneille  and  the 
beauties  of  fine  tragedies  of  Racine.     It  can, 
Corneille     pernaps5  hardly  be  said  that,  with 
the   exception  of  Polyeucte,  the  former 
has  produced  a  single  play,  which,  taken 
as  a  whole,  we  can  commend.     The  keys 
of  the  passions  were  not  given  to  his  cus- 
tody.    But  in  that  which  he   introduced 
upon  the  French  stage,  and  which  long 
continued  to  be  its  boast — impressive,  en- 
ergetic declamation;  thoughts  masculine, 
bold,  and  sometimes  sublime,  conveyed 
in  a  style  for  the   most  part  clear,  con- 
densed, and  noble,  and  in  a  rhythm  sono- 
rous and  satisfactory  to  the  ear — he  has 
not  since  been  equalled.     Lucan,  it  has 
always  been  said,  was  the  favourite  study 
of  Corneille.     No  one,  indeed,  can  admire 
one  who  has  not  a  strong  relish  for  the 
other.     That  the  tragedian  has  ever  sur- 
passed the  highest  flights  of  his  Roman 
prototype,  it  might  be  difficult  to  prove ; 
but  if  his  fire  is  not  more  intense,  it  is  ac- 
companied with  less  smoke ;  his  hyper- 
boles, for  such  he  has,  are  less  frequent 
and  less  turgid ;  his  taste  is  more  judi- 
cious ;  he  knows  better,  especially  in  de- 
scription, what  to  choose  and  where  to 
stop.     Lucan,  however,  would  have  dis- 
dained the  politeness  of  the  amorous  he- 
roes of  Corneille ;  and,  though  often  te- 
dious, often  offensive  to   good  taste,  is 
never  languid  or  ignoble. 

29.  The  first  French  comedy  written  in 

LeMenteur    P°!ite  language>  without  low  wit 

or  indecency,  is  due  to  Corneille, 


or,  rather,  in  some  degree,  to  the  Span- 
ish author  whom  he  copied  in  Le  Men- 
teur.  This  has  been  improved  a  little  by 
Goldoni,  and  our  own  well-known  farce, 
The  Liar,  is  borrowed  from  both.  The 
incidents  are  diverting,  but  it  belongs  to 
the  subordinate  class  of  comedy,  and  a 
better  moral  would  have  been  shown  in 
the  disgrace  of  the  principal  character. 
Another  comedy  about  the  same  time, 
Le  Pedant  Joue,  by  Cyrano  de  Bergerac, 
had  much  success.  It  has  been  called  the 
first  comedy  in  prose,  and  the  first  where- 
in a  provincial  dialect  is  introduced ;  the 
remark  as  to  the  former  circumstance 
shows  a  forgetfulness  of  Larivey.  Mo- 
liere  has  borrowed  freely  from  this  play. 

30.  The  only  tragedies,  after  those  of 
Corneille,    anterior    to     1650,  other  French 
which  the  French  themselves  tragedies, 
hold  worthy  of  remembrance,  are  the  So- 
phonisbe  of  Mairet,  in  which  some  char- 
acters and  some  passages  are  vigorously 
conceived  ;  but  the  style  is  debased  by  low 
and  ludicrous  thoughts,  which  later  critics 
never  fail  to  point  out  with  severity  ;*  the 
Scevole   of  Duryer,  the  best  of  several 
good  tragedies,  full  of  lines  of  great  sim- 
plicity in  expression,  but  which  seem  to 
gain  force  by  their  simplicity,  by  one  who, 
though  never  sublime,  adopted  with  suc- 
cess the  severe   and  reasoning  style  of 
Corneille  ;f    the    Marianne    of    Tristan, 
which,  at  its  appearance  in  1637,  passed 
for  a  rival  of  the  Cid,  and  remained  for  a 
century  on  the  stage,  but  is  now  ridiculed 
for  a  style   alternately  turgid   and  ludi- 
crous ;    and  the  Wenceslas   of    Rotrou, 
which  had  not  ceased  thirty  years  since 
to  be  represented,  and  perhaps  is  so  still. 

31,  This   tragedy,  the  best  work  of  a 
fertile  dramatist,  who  did  himself  wencesias 
honour  by  a  ready  acknowledg-  of  Rotrou. 
ment  of  the  superiority  of  Corneille,  in- 
stead of  canvassing  the  suffrages  of  those 
who  always  envy  genius,  is  by  no  means 
so  much  below  that  great  master,  as,  in 
the  unfortunate  efforts  of  his  later  years, 
lie  was  below  himself.     Wenceslas  was 
represented  in  1647.     It  may  be  admitted 
that  Rotrou  had  conceived  his  plot,  which 
is  wholly  original,  in  the   spirit  of  Cor- 
neille ;  the  masculine  energy  of  the  senti- 
ments, the  delineation  of  bold  and  fierce 
passions,  of  noble  and  heroic  love,  the  at- 
tempt even   at  political   philosophy,  are 
copies  of  that  model.     It  seems,  indeed, 
that  in  several  scenes,  Rotrou  must,  out  of 
mere  generosity  to  Corneille,  have  deter- 
mined to  out-do  one  of  his  most  unexcep- 
tionable passages,  the  consent  of  Chimene 


*  Suard,  ubi  supra. 


t  Id.,  p.  196. 


FROM  1600  TO  1650. 


197 


tu  sspouse  the  Cid.  His  own  curtain 
droos  on  the  vanishing  reluctance  of  his 
heroine  to  accept  the  hand  of  a  monster 
whom  she  hated,  and  who  had  just  mur- 
dered her  lover  in  his  own  brother.  It  is 
the  Lady  Anne  of  Shakspeare  ;  but  Lady 
Anne  is  not  a  heroine.  Wenceslas  is  not 
unworthy  of  comparison  with  the  second 
class  of  Corneille's  tragedies.  But  the 
ridiculous  tone  of  language  and  sentiment 
which  the  heroic  romances  had  rendered 
popular,  and  from  which  Corneille  did  not 
wholly  emancipate  himself,  often  appears 
in  this  piece  of  Rotrou  ;  the  intrigue  is 
rather  too  complex,  in  the  Spanish  style, 
for  tragedy  ;  the  diction  seems  frequently 
obnoxious  to  the  most  indulgent  criticism  ; 
but,  above  all,  the  story  is  essentially  ill- 
contrived,  ending  in  the  grossest  violation 
of  poetical  justice  ever  witnessed  on  the 
stage,  the  impunity  and  even  the  triumph 
of  one  of  the  worst  characters  that  was 
ever  drawn. 


SECT.  III.     ON  THE  ENGLISH  DRAMA. 

London  Theatres. — Shakspeare. — Jonson. —  Beau- 
mont and  Fletcher. — Massinger.—  Other  English 
Dramatists. 

32.  THE  English  drama  had  been  en- 
Ponuiaritv  couraged  through  the   reign  of 
of  the  stage  Elizabeth  by  increasing  populari- 
under  Eiiz-  ty,  notwithstanding  the  strenuous 
aheth.        opposition  of  a  party  sufficiently 
powerful  to  enlist  the  magistracy,  and,  in 
a  certain  measure,  the  government  on  its 
side.     A  progressive  improvement  in  dra- 
matic writing,  possibly  also,  though  we 
know  less  of  this,  in  the  skill  of  the  ac- 
tors, ennobled,  while   it   kept   alive,  the 
public  taste ;  the  crude  and  insipid  com- 
positions of  an  Edwards  or  a  Whetstone, 
among  numbers  more  whose  very  names 
are  lost,  gave  way  to  the  real  genius  of 
Greene  and  Marlowe,  and,  after  them,  to 
Shakspeare. 

33.  At  the  beginning  of  this  century, 
Number  of  not  less  than  eleven  regular  play- 
theatres,     houses  had  been  erected  in  Lon- 
don and  its  suburbs  ;  several  of  which,  it 
appears,  were  still  in  use,  an  order  of  the 
privy  council  in  1600,  restraining  the  num- 
ber to  two,  being  little  regarded.    Of  these, 
the  most  important  was  that  of  the  Black 
Friars,  with   which   another,  called  the 
Globe,  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  river, 
was  connected ;  the  same  company  per- 
forming at  the  former  in  winter,  at  the, 
latter  in  summer.    This  was  the  company 
of  which  Burbage,  the  best  actor  of  the 
day,  was  chief,  and  to  which  Shakspeare, 
who   was    also    a  proprietor,  belonged. 


Their  names  appear  in  letters  patent  and 
other  legal  instruments.* 

34.  James  was    fond  of  these  amuse- 
ments, and  had  encouraged  them  Encouraged 
in  Scotland.     The  Puritan  influ-  by  James. 
ence,  which  had  been  sometimes  felt  in 
the  council  of  Elizabeth,  came  speedily  to 
an  end ;  though  the  representation  of  plays 
on  Sundays,  a  constant  theme  of  com- 
plaint, but  never  wholly  put  down,  was 
now  abandoned,  and  is  not  even  tolerated 
by  the  declaration  of  sports.    The  several 
companies  of  players,  who,  in  her  reign, 
had  been  under  the  nominal  protection  of 
some  men  of  rank,  were  now  denominated 
the  servants  of  the  king,  the  queen,  or 
other  royal  personages. f    They  were  re- 
lieved from  some  of  the  vexatious  control 
they  had  experienced,  and  subjected  only 
to  the  gentle  sway  of  the  Master  of  the 
Revels.    It  was  his  duty  to  revise  all  dra- 
matic works  before  they  were  represent- 
ed, to  exclude  profane   and  unbecoming 
language,  and  specially  to  take  care  that 
there  should  be  no  interference  with  mat- 
ters of  state.     The  former  of  these  func- 
tions must  have  been  rather  laxly  exer- 
cised ;  but  there  are  instances  in  which  a 
license  was  refused  on  account  of  very 
recent  history  being  touched  ''a  a  play. 

35.  The  reigns  of  James  and  Charles 
were  the   glory  of  our  theatre.  General 
Public  applause,  and  the  favour  of  taste  for 
princes,  were  well  bestowed  on  thestaee- 
those  bright  stars  of  our  literature  who 
then  appeared.    In  1623,  when  Sir  Henry 
Herbert  became   Master  of  the   Revels, 
there  were  five   companies  of  actors  in 
London.     This,  indeed,  is  something  less 
than  at  the  accession  of  James,  and  the 
latest  historian  of  the  drama  suggests  the 
increase  of  Puritanical  sentiments  as  a 
likely  cause  of  this  apparent  decline.    But 
we  find  little  reason  to  believe  that  there 


*  Shakspeare  probably  retired  from  the  stage,  as 
a  performer,  soon  after  1603;  his  name  appears 
among  the  actors  of  Sejanus  in  1603,  but  not 
among  those  of  Volpone  in  1605.  There  is  a  tradi- 
tion that  James  I.  wrote  a  letter  thanking  Shaks- 
peare for  the  compliment  paid  to  him  in  Macbeth. 
Malone,  it  seems,  believed  this:  Mr.  Collier  does 
not,  and  probably  most  people  will  be  equally  skep- 
tical.—Collier,  1.,  370. 

t  Id.,  p  347.  But  the  privilege  of  peers  eo  grant 
licenses  to  itinerant  players,  given  by  statute  14 
Eliz  ,  c.  5,  and  39  Eli/,.,  c.  4,  was  taken  away  by  1 
Jac.  I.,  c.  7,  so  that  they  became  liable  to  be  treated 
as  vagrants.  Accordingly,  there  were  no  estab- 
lished theatres  in  any  provincial  city,  and  strollers, 
though  dear  to  the  lovers  of  the  buskin,  were  al- 
ways obnoxious  to  grave  magistrates.  The  license, 
however,  granted  to  Burbage,  Shaljspeare,  Hem- 
mings,  and  others  in  1603,  authorizes  them  to  act 
plays,  not  only  at  the  usual  house,  but  in  any  other 
part  of  the  kingdom.  Burbage  was  reckoned  the 
best  actor  of  his  time,  and  excelled  as  Richard  III 


193 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


was  any  decline  in  the  public  taste  for  the 
theatre  ;  and  it  may  be  as  probable  an  hy- 
pothesis, that  the  excess  of  competition 
at  the  end  of  Elizabeth's  reign  had  ren- 
dered some  undertakings  unprofitable  ;  the 
greater  fishes,  as  usual  in  such  cases, 
swallowing  up  the  less.  We  learn  from 
Howes,  the  continuator  of  Stow,  that 
within  sixty  years  before  1631,  seventeen 
playhouses  had  been  built  in  the  metropo- 
lis. These  were  now  larger  and  more 
convenient  than  before.  They  were  divi- 
ded into  public  and  private ;  not  that  the 
former  epithet  was  inapplicable  to  both ; 
but  those  styled  public  were  not  com- 
pletely roofed,  nor  well  provided  with 
seats,  nor  were  the  performances  by  can- 
dlelight ;  they  resembled  more  the  rude 
booths  we  still  see  at  fairs,  or  the  con- 
structions in  which  interludes  are  repre- 
sented by  day  in  Italy;  while  private 
theatres,  such  as  that  of  the  Black  Friars, 
were  built  in  nearly  the  present  form.  It 
seems  to  be  the  more  probable  opinion 
that  moveable  scenery  was  unknown  on 
these  theatres.  "  It  is  a  fortunate  circum- 
stance," Mr.  Collier  has  observed,  "  for 
the  poetry  of  our  old  plays  that  it  was  so  ; 
the  imagination  of  the  auditor  only  was 
appealed  to ;  and  we  owe  to  the  absence 
of  painted  canvass  many  of  the  finest 
descriptive  passages  in  Shakspeare,  his 
contemporaries  and  immediate  followers. 
The  introduction  of  scenery  gives  the 
date  to  the  commencement  of  the  decline 
of  our  dramatic  poetry."  In  this  remark, 
which  seems  as  original  as  just,  I  entirely 
concur.  Even  in  this  age,  the  prodigality 
of  our  theatre  in  its  peculiar  boast,  scene- 
painting,  can  hardly  keep  pace  with  the 
creative  powers  of  Shakspeare  ;  it  is  well 
that  he  did  not  live  when  a  manager  was 
to  estimate  his  descriptions  by  the  cost  of 
realizing  them  on  canvass,  or  we  might 
never  have  stood  with  Lear  on  the  cliffs 
of  Dover,  or  amid  the  palaces  of  Venice 
with  Shylock  and  Antonio.  The  scene  is 
perpetually  changed  in  our  old  drama, 
precisely  because  it  was  not  changed  at 
all.  A  powerful  argument  might  other- 
wise have  been  discovered  in  favour  of  the 
unity  of  place,  that  it  is  very  cheap. 

36.  Charles,  as  we  might  expect,  was 
Theatres  not  less  inclined  to  this  liberal 
closed  by  the  pleasure  than  his  predecessors. 

Parliament.    lt   wag    to    his    Qwn    CQst    thaj. 

Prynne  assaulted  the  stage  in  his  immense 
volume,  the  Histrio-mastix.  Even  Milton, 
before  the  foul  spirit  had  wholly  entered 
into  him,  extolled  the  learned  sock  of  3on-n 
son,  and  the  wild  wood-notes  of  Shaks- 
peare. But  these  days  were  soon  to  pass 
away;  the  ears  of  Prynne  were  avenged ; 


by  an  order  of  the  two  houses  of  Parlia- 
ment, Sept.  2,  1642,  the  theatres  were 
closed,  as  a  becoming  measure  during  the 
season  of  public  calamity  and  impending 
civil  war ;  but,  after  some  unsuccessful 
attempts  to  evade  this  prohibition,  it  was 
thought  expedient,  in  the  complete  suc- 
cess of  the  party  who  had  always  abhor- 
red the  drama,  to  put  a  stop  to  it  altogeth- 
er ;  and  another  ordinance  of  Jan.  i?2, 1648, 
reciting  the  usual  objections  to  all  such 
entertainments,  directed  the  theatres  to  be 
rendered  unserviceable.  We  must  refer 
the  reader  to  the  valuable  work  which  has 
supplied  the  sketch  of  these  pages  for  far- 
ther knowledge  ;*  it  is  more  our  province 
to  follow  the  track  of  those  who  most  dis- 
tinguish a  period  so  fertile  in  dramatic 
genius ;  and,  first,  that  of  the  greatest  of 
them  all. 

37.  Those  who  originally  undertook  to 
marshal  the  plays  of  Shakspeare  sh 
according  to  chronological  or-  *Tweiftii 
der,  always   attending  less   to  Nlsht- 
internal  evidence  than  to  the  very  fallible 
proofs  of  publication  they  could  obtain, 
placed  Twelfth  Night  last  of  all,  in  1612 
or  1613.     It  afterward  rose  a  little  higher 
in  the  list ;   but  Mr.  Collier  has  finally 
proved  that  it  was  on  the  stage  early  in 
1602,  and  was  at  that  time  chosen,  proba- 
bly as  rather  a  new  piece,  for  representa- 
tion at  one  of  the  Inns  of  Court.t     The 
general  style  resembles,  in  my  judgment, 
that  of  Much  Ado  about  Nothing,  which  is 
referred  with  probability  to  the  year  1600. 
Twelfth  Night,  notwithstanding  some  very 
beautiful  passages,  and  the  humorous  ab- 
surdity of  Malvolio,  has  not  the  corusca- 
tions of  wit  and  spirit  of  character  that 
distinguish  the  excellent  comedy  it  seems 
to  have  immediately  followed  ;  nor  is  the 
plot  nearly  so  well  constructed.     Viola 
would  be  more  interesting  if  she  had  not 
indelicately,  as  well  as  unfairly  towards 
Olivia,  determined  to  win  the  duke's  heart 
before  she  had  seen  him.     The  part  of 
Sebastian  has  all  that  improbability  which 
belongs  to  mistaken  identity,  without  the 
comic  effect  for  the  sake  of  which  that  is 
forgiven  in  Plautus  and  in  the  Comedy  of 
Errors. 

38.  The  Merry  Wives  of  Windsor  is  that 


*  I  have  made  no  particular  references  to  Mr. 
Collier's  double  work,  The  History  of  English  Dra- 
matic Poetry  and  Annals  of  the  Stage  ;  it  will  be 
necessary  for  the  reader  to  make  use  of  his  index : 
but  few  books  lately  published  contain  so  much 
valuable  and  original  information,  though  not  en- 
tirely arranged  in  the  most  convenient  manner.  He 
seems,  nevertheless,  to  have  obligations  to  Dodsley'a 
preface  to  his  Collection  of  Old  Plays,  or  rather, 
perhaps,  to  Reed's  edition  of  it. 

t  Vol.  i.,  p.  327. 


FROM  1600  TO  1650. 


199 


Merry  wives  work  of  Shakspeare  in  which 
or  Windsor,  he  has  best  displayed  English 
manners  ;  for,  though  there  is  something 
of  this  in  the  historical  plays,  yet  we  rare- 
ly see  in  them  such'  a  picture  of  actual  life 
as  comedy  ought  to  represent.  It  may 
be  difficult  to  say  for  what  cause  he  has 
abstained  from  a  source  of  gayety  whence 
his  prolific  invention  and  keen  eye  for  the 
diversities  of  character  might  have  drawn 
so  much.  The  Masters  Knowell  and 
Well-born,  the  young  gentlemen  who 
spend  their  money  freejy  and  make  love 
to  rich  widows,  an  insipid  race  of  person- 
ages, it  must  be  owned,  recur  for  ever  in 
the  old  plays  of  James's  reign  ;  but  Shaks- 
peare threw  an  ideality  over  this  class  of 
characters,  the  Eassanios,  the  Valentines, 
the  Gratianos,  and  placed  them  in  scenes 
which,  neither  by  dress  nor  manners,  re- 
called the  prose  of  ordinary  life.*  In  this 
play,  however,  the  English  gentleman,  in 
age  anfl  youth,  is  brought  upon  the  stage, 
slightly  caricatured  in  Shallow,  and  far 
more  so  in  Slender.  The  latter,  indeed, 
is  a  perfect  satire,  and,  I  think,  was  so  in- 
tended, on  the  brilliant  youth  of  the  prov- 
inces, such  as  we  may  believe  it  to  have 
been  before  the  introduction  of  newspa- 
pers and  turnpike  roads ;  awkward  and 
boobyish  among  civil  people,  but  at  home 
in  rude  sports,  and  proud  of  exploits  at 
which  the  town  would  laugh,  yet  perhaps 
with  more  courage  and  good-nature  than 
the  laughers.  No  doubt  can  be  raised 
that  the  family  of  Lucy  is  ridiculed  in 
Shallow;  but  those  who  have  had  re- 
course to  the  old  fable  of  the  deer- steal- 
ing forget  that  Shakspeare  never  lost  sight 
of  his  native  county,  and  went,  perhaps 
every  summer,  to  Stratford.  It  is  not 
impossible  that  some  arrogance  of  the 
provincial  squires  towards  a  player,  whom, 
though  a  gentleman  by  birth  and  the  re- 
cent grant  of  arms,  they  might  not  reckon 
such,  excited  his  malicious  wit  to  those 
admirable  delineations. 

39.  The  Merry  Wives  of  Windsor  was 
first  printed  in  1602,  but  very  materially 
altered  in  a  subsequent  edition.  It  is 
wholly  comic ;  so  that  Dodd,  who  pub- 
lished the  Beauties  of  Shakspeare,  con- 
fining himself  to  poetry,  says  it  is  the  only 
play  which  afforded  him  nothing  to  ex- 
tract. This  play  does  not  excite  a  great 
deal  of  interest ;  for  Anne  Page  is  but  a 


*  "  No  doubt,"  says  Coleridge,  "  they  (Beaumont 
find  Fletcher)  imitated  the  ease  of  gentlemanly 
conversation  better  than  Shakspeare,  who  was  un- 
able not  to  be  too  much  associated  to  succeed  in 
this." — Table  talk,  ii.,  396.  I  am  not  quite  sure 
that  I  understand  this  expression  ;  but  probably  the 
meaning  is  not  very  different  from  what  I  have  said. 


sample  of  a  character  not  very  uncom- 
mon, which,  under  a  garb  of  placid  and 
decorous  mediocrity,  is  still  capable  of 
pursuing  its  own  will.  But  in  wit  and  hu- 
morous delineation  no  other  goes  beyond 
it.  If  Falstaff  seems,  as  Johnson  has  in- 
timated, to  have  lost  some  of  his  powers 
of  merriment,  it  is  because  he  is  humilia- 
ted to  a  point  where  even  his  invention 
and  impudence  cannot  bear  him  off  victo- 
rious. In  the  first  acts  he  is  still  the  same 
Jack  Falstaff  of  the  Boar's  Head.  Jon- 
son's  earliest  comedy,  Every  Man  in  his 
Humour,  had  appeared  a  few  years  before 
the  Merry  Wives  of  Windsor;  they  both 
turn  on  English  life  in  the  middle  classes, 
and  on  the  same  passion  of  jealousy.  If, 
then,  we  compare  these  two  productions 
of  our  greatest  comic  dramatists,  the  vast 
superiority  of  Shakspeare  will  appear  un- 
deniable. Kitely,  indeed,  has  more  ener- 
gy, more  relief,  more,  perhaps,  of  what 
might  appear  to  his  temper  matter  for 
jealousy,  than  the  wretched,  narrow-mind- 
ed  Ford ;  he  is  more  of  a  gentleman,  and 
commands  a  certain  degree  of  respect ; 
but  dramatic  justice  is  better  dealt  upon 
Ford  by  rendering  him  ridiculous,  and  he 
suits  better  the  festive  style  of  Shaks- 
peare's  most  amusing  play.  His  light- 
hearted  wife,  on  the  other  hand,  is  drawn 
with  more  spirit  than  Dame  Kitely ;  and 
the  most  ardent  admirer  of  Jonson  would 
not"  oppose  Master  Stephen  to  Slender,  or 
Bobadil  to  Falstaff.  The  other  charac- 
ters are  not  parallel  enough  to  admit  of 
omparison  ;  but  in  their  diversity  (nor  is 
Shakspeare,  perhaps,  in  any  one  play  more 
fertile)  and  their  amusing  peculiarity,  as 
well  as  in  the  construction  and  arrange- 
ment of  the  story  s  the  brilliancy  of  the  wit, 
he  perpetual  gayety  of  the  dialogue,  we 
3erceive  at  once  to  whom  the  laurel  must 
given.  Nor  is  this  comparison  insti- 
tuted to  disparage  Jonson,  whom  we  have 
Braised,  and  shall  have  again  to  praise  so 
lighly,  but  to  show  how  much  easier  it 
was  to  vanquish  the  rest  of  Europe  than 
to  contend  with  Shakspeare. 

40.  Measure  for  Measure,  commonly 
referred  to  the  end  of  1603,  is  Measure  for 
perhaps,  after  Hamlet,  Lear,  Measure, 
and  Macbeth,  the  play  in  which  Shaks- 
aeare  struggles,  as  it  were,  most  with  the 
ivermastering  power  of  his  own  mind  ; 
;he  depths  and  intricacies  of  being,  which 
tie  has  searched  and  sounded  with  intense 
reflection,  perplex  and  harass  him  ;  his 
personages  arrest  their  course  of  action 
to  pour  forth,  in  language  tlpe  most  re- 
mote from  common  use,  thoughts  which 
few  could  grasp  in  the  clearest  expres- 
sion ;  and  thus  he  loses  something  of 


200 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


dramatic  excellence  in  that  of  his  con- 
templative philosophy.  The  Duke  is  de- 
signed as  the  representative  of  this  philo- 
sophical character.  He  is  stern  and  mel- 
ancholy by  temperament,  averse  to  the 
exterior  shows  of  power,  and  secretly 
conscious  of  some  unfitness  for  its  practi- 
cal duties.  The  subject  is  not  very  hap- 
pily chosen,  but  artfully  improved  by 
Shakspeare.  In  most  of  the  numerous 
stories  of  a  similar  nature  which  before 
or  since  his  time  have  been  related,  the 
sacrifice  of  chastity  is  really  made,  and 
made  in  vain.  There  is,  however,  some- 
thing too  coarse  and  disgusting  in  such  a 
story ;  and  it  would  have  deprived  him  of 
a  splendid  exhibition  of  character.  The 
virtue  of  Isabella,  inflexible  and  independ- 
ent of  circumstance,  has  something  very 
grand  and  elevated ;  yet  one  is  disposed 
to  ask  whether,  if  Claudio  had  been  really 
executed,  the  spectator  would  not  have 
gone  away  with  no  great  affection  for 
her ;  and  at  least  we  now  feel  that  her 
reproaches  against  her  miserable  brother, 
when  he  clings  to  life  like  a  frail  and 
guilty  being,  are  too  harsh.  There  is 
great  skill  in  the  invention  of  Mariana, 
and  without  this  the  story  could  not  have 
had  anything  like  a  satisfactory  termina- 
tion ;  yet  it  is  never  explained  how  the 
Duke  had  become  acquainted  with  this 
secret,  and,  being  acquainted  with  it,  how 
he  had  preserved  his  esteem  and  confi- 
dence in  Angelo.  His  intention,  as  hint- 
ed towards  the  end,  to  marry  Isabella,  is 
a  little  too  commonplace  ;  it  is  one  of 
Shakspeare's  hasty  half-thoughts.  The 
language  of  this  comedy  is  very  obscure, 
and  the  text  seems  to  have  been  printed 
with  great  inaccuracy.  I  do  not  value 
the  comic  parts  highly ;  Lucio's  impudent 
profligacy,  the  result  rather  of  sensual  de- 
basement than  of  natural  ill  disposition,  is 
well  represented :  but  Elbow  is  a  very  in- 
ferior repetition  of  Dogberry.  In  dramatic 
effect,  Measure  for  Measure  ranks  high  ; 
the  two  scenes  between  Isabella  and  An- 
gelo, that  between  her  and  Claudio,  those 
where  the  Duke  appears  in  disguise,  and 
the  catastrophe  in  the  fifth  act,  are  admi- 
rably written  and  very  interesting,  ex- 
cept so  far  as  the  spectator's  knowledge 
of  the  two  stratagems  which  have  deceived 
Angelo  may  prevent  him  from  participa- 
ting in  the  indignation  at  Isabella's  imagi- 
nary wrong  which  her  lamentations  would 
, excite.  Several  of  the  circumstances  and 
characters  are  borrowed  from  the  old  play 
of  Whetstone,  Promos  and  Cassandra ; 
'but  very  little  of  the  sentiments  or  lan- 
guage. What  is  good  in  Measure  for 
Measure  is  Shakspeare's  own. 


41.  If  originality  of  invention  did  not  so 
much  stamp  almost  every  play  of 
Shakspeare,  that  to  name  one  as  the 
most  original  seems,  a  disparagement  to 
others,  we  might  say  that  this  great  pre- 
rogative of  genius  was  exercised  above 
all  in  Lear.  It  diverges  more  from  the 
model  of  regular  tragedy  than  Macbeth  or 
Othello,  and  even  more  than  Hamlet ;  but 
the  fable  is  better  constructed  than  in  the 
last  of  these,  and  it  displays  full  as  much 
of  the  almost  superhuman  inspiration  of 
the  poet  as  the  other  two.  Lear  himself 
is  perhaps  the  most  wonderful  of  dra- 
matic conceptions,  ideal  to  satisfy  the 
most  romantic  imagination,  yet  idealized 
from  the  reality  of  nature.  In  preparing 
us  for  the  most  intense  sympathy  with 
this  old  man,  he  first  abases  him  to  the 
ground ;  it  is  not  (Edipus,  against  whose 
respected  age  the  gods  themselves  have 
conspired  ;  it  is  not  Orestes,  noble-minded 
and  affectionate,  whose  crime  has  been  vir- 
tue ;  it  is  a  headstrong,  feeble,  and  selfish 
being,  whom,  in  the  first  act  of  the  trage- 
dy, nothing  seems  capable  of  redeeming 
in  our  eyes ;  nothing  but  what  follows, 
intense  wo,  unnatural  wrong.  Then  comes 
on  that  splendid  madness,  not  absurdly 
sudden,  as  in  some  tragedies,  but  in 
which  the  strings  that  keep  his  reasoning 
power  together  give  way,  one  after  the 
other,  in  the  phrensy  of  rage  and  grief. 
Then  it  is  that  we  find  what  in  life  may 
sometimes  be  seen,  the  intellectual  ener- 
gies grow  stronger  in  calamity,  and  espe- 
cially under  wrong.  An  awful  eloquence 
belongs  to  unmerited  suffering.  Thoughts 
burst  out,  more  profound  than  Lear  in  his 
prosperous  hour  could  ever  have  conceiv- 
ed ;  inconsequent — for  such  is  the  condi- 
tion of  madness — but  in  themselves  frag- 
ments of  coherent  truth,  the  reason  of  an 
unreasonable  mind. 

41.  Timon  of  Athens  is  cast,  as  it  were, 
in  the  same  mould  as  Lear ;  it  is  Timon  or 
the  same  essential  character ;  the  Athens, 
same  generosity,  more  from  wanton  os- 
tentation than  love  of  others ;  the  same 
fierce  rage  under  the  smart  of  ingrati- 
tude ;  the  same  rousing  up,  in  that  tem- 
pest, of  powers  that  had  slumbered  un- 
suspected in  some  deep  recess  of  the 
soul ;  for,  had  Timon  or  Lear  known  that 
philosophy  of  human  nature  in  their  calm- 
er moments  which  fury  brought  forth, 
they  would  never  have  had  such  terrible 
occasion  to  display  it.  The  thoughtless 
confidence  of  Lear  in  his  children  has 
something  in  it  far  more  touching  than 
the  self-beggary  of  Timon ;  though  both 
one  and  the  other  have  prototypes  enough 
in  re'al  life.  And  as  we  give  the  old  king 


FROM  1600  TO  1650. 


201 


more  of  our  pity,  so  a  more  intense  ab- 
horrence accompanies  his  daughters  and 
the  worse  characters  of  that  drama  than 
we  spare  for  the  miserable  sycophants  of 
the  Athenian.  Their  thanklessness  is  an- 
ticipated, and  springs  from  the  very  na- 
ture of  their  calling ;  it  verges  on  the 
beaten  road  of  comedy.  Ifl  this  play 
there  is  neither  a  female  personage,  ex- 
cept two  courtesans,  who  hardly  speak, 
nor  any  prominent  character  (the  honest 
steward  is  not  such)  redeemed  by  virtue 
enough  to  be  estimable  ;  for  the  cynic 
Apemantus  is  but  a  cynic,  and  ill  replaces 
the  noble  Kent  of  the  other  drama.  The 
fable,  if  fable  it  can  be  called,  is  so  extra- 
ordinarily deficient  in  action— a  fault  of 
which  Shakspeare  is  not  guilty  in  any 
other  instance — that  we  may  wonder  a 
little  how  he  should  have  seen  in  the  sin- 
gle delineation  of  Timon  a  counterbal- 
ance for  the  manifold  objections  to  this 
subject.*  But  there  seems  to  have  been  a 
period  of  Shakspeare's  life  when  his  heart 
was  ill  at  ease,  and  ill  content  with  the 
world  or  his  own  conscience  ;  the  memo- 
ry of  hours  misspent,  the  pang  of  affec- 
tion misplaced  or  unrequited,  the  experi- 
ence of  man's  worser  nature,  which  in- 
tercourse with  ill-chosen  associates,  by 
choice  or  circumstance,  peculiarly  teach- 
es ;  these,  as  they  sank  down  into  the 
depths  of  his  great  mind,  seem  not  only 
to  have  inspired  into  it  the  conception  of 
Lear  and  Timon,  but  that  of  one  primary 
character,  the  censurer  of  mankind.  This 
type  is  first  seen  in  the  philosophic  mel- 
ancholy of  Jacques,  gazing  with  an  undi- 
minished  serenity,  and  with  a  gayety  of 
fancy,  though  not  of  manners,  on  the  fol- 
lies of  the  world.  It  assumes  a  graver 
cast  in  the  exiled  Duke  of  the  same  play, 
and  next  one  rather  more  severe  in  the 
Duke  of  Measure  for  Measure.  In  all 
these,  however,  it  is  merely  contempla- 
tive philosophy.  In  Hamlet  this  is  min- 
gled with  the  impulses  of  a  perturbed 
heart  under  the  pressure  of  extraordinary 
circumstances  ;  it  shines  no  longer,  as  in 
the  former  characters,  with  a  steady  light, 
but  plays  in  fitful  coruscations  amid  feign- 
ed gayety  and  extravagance.  In  Lear  it 
is  the  flash  of  sudden  inspiration  across 
the  incongruous  imagery  of  madness  ;  in 
Timon  it  is  obscured  by  the  exaggera- 
tions of  misanthropy.  These  plays  all 
belong  to  nearly  the  same  period  :  As 
You  Like  It  being  usually  referred  to 
1600,  Hamlet,  in  its  altered  form,  to  about 
1602,  Timon  to  the  same  year,  Measure 
for  Measure  to  1603,  and  Lear  to  1604. 
In  the  later  plays  of  Shakspeare,  espe- 
cially in  Macbeth  and  the  Tempest,  much 
VOL.  II.— C  c 


of  moral  speculation  will  be  found,  but  he 
has  never  returned  to  this  type  of  charac- 
ter in  the  personages.  Timon  is  less 
and  less  pleasing  than  the  great  majority 
of  Shakspeare's  plays,  but  it  abounds 
with  signs  of  his  genius.  Schlegel  ob- 
serves, that  of  all  his  works,  it  is  that  which 
has  most  satire  ;  comic  in  representation 
of  the  parasites,  indignant  and  Juvenalian 
in  the  bursts  of  Timon  himself. 

43.  Pericles  is  generally  reckoned  to  be 
in  part,  and  only  in  part,  the  work 

of  Shakspeare.  From  the  poverty 
and  bad  management  of  the  fable,  the  want 
of  any  effective  or  distinguishable  charac- 
ter, for  Marina  is  no  more  than  the  com- 
mon form  of  female  virtue,  such  as  all  the 
dramatists  of  that  age  could  draw,  and  a 
general  feebleness  of  the  tragedy  as  a 
whole,  I  should  not  believe  the  structure 
to  have  been  Shakspeare's.  But  many 
passages  are  far  more  in  his  manner  than 
in  that  of  any  contemporary  writer  with 
whom  I  am  acquainted ;  and  the  extrinsic 
testimony,  though  not  conclusive,  being 
of  some  value,  I  should  not  dissent  from 
the  judgment  of  Steevens  and  Malone, 
that  it  was,  in  no  inconsiderable  degree,  re- 
paired and  improved  by  his  touch.  Drake 
has  placed  it  under  the  year  1590,  as  the 
earliest  of  Shakspeare's  plays,  for  no  better 
reason,  apparently,  than  that,  he  thought  it 
inferior  to  all  the  rest.  But  if,  as  most  will 
agree,  it  were  not  quite  his  own,  this  reason 
will  have  less  weight ;  and  the  language 
seems  to  me  rather  that  of  his  second  or 
third  manner  than  of  his  first.  Pericles  is 
not  known  to  have  existed  before  1609. 

44.  The  majority  of  readers,  I  believe, 
assign  to  Macbeth,  which  seems  to  have 
been  written  about  1606,  the  pre-eminence 
among  the  works  of  Shakspeare ;  many, 
however,  would  rather  name  Othello,  one 
of  his  latest,  which  is  referred  to  1611 ; 
and  a  few  might  prefer  Lear  to  either. 
The  great  epic  drama,  as  the  first  may  be 
called,  deserves,  in  my  own  judgment,  the 
post  it  has  attained,  as  being,  in  the  lan- 
guage of  Drake,  "  the  greatest  effort  of  our 
author's  genius,  the  most  sublime  and  im- 
pressive drama  which  the  world  has  ever 
beheld."     It  will  be  observed  that  Shaks- 
peare had  now  turned  his  mind  towards 
the  tragic  drama.    No  tragedy  but  Romeo 
and  Juliet  belongs  to  the  sixteenth  century ; 
ten,  without  counting  Pericles,  appeared 
in  the  first  eleven  years  of  the  present. 
It  is  not  my  design  to  distinguish  each  of 
his  plays  separately ;  and  it  will  be  evi- 
dent that  I  pass  over  some  of  the  greatest. 
No  writer,  in  fact,  is  so  well  known  as 
Shakspeare,  or  has  been  so  abundantly, 
and,  on  the  whole,  so  ably  criticised;  I 


202 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


might  have  been  warranted  in  saying  even 
less  than  I  have  done. 

45.  Shakspeare  was,  as  I  believe,  con- 

„   versant  with  the  better  class  of 

His   Roman     „,.,,..  i  •   i       .-, 

tragedies.  English  literature  which  the 
Julius  Caesar.  reign  of  Elizabeth  afforded. 
Among  other  books,  the  translation  by 
North  of  A  myot's  Plutarch  seems  to  have 
fallen  into  his  hands  about  1607V  It  was  the 
source  of  three  tragedies,  founded  on  the 
lives  of  Brutus,  Antony,  and  Coriolanus, 
the  first  bearing  the  name  of  Julius  Caesar. 
In  this  the  plot  wants  even  that  historical 
unity  which  the  romantic  drama  requires  ; 
the  third  and  fourth  acts  are  ill  connected  ; 
it  is  deficient  in  female  characters,  and  in 
that  combination  which  is  generally  ap- 
parent amid  all  the  intricacies  of  his  fable. 
But  it  abounds  in  fine  scenes  and  fine  pas- 
sages ;  the  spirit  of  Plutarch's  Brutus  is 
well  seized,  the  predominance  of  Caesar 
himself  is  judiciously  restrained,  the  char- 
acters have  that  individuality  which  Shaks- 
peare seldom  misses ;  nor  is  there,  per- 
haps, in  the  whole  range  of  ancient  and 
modern  eloquence,  a  speech  more  fully 
realizing  the  perfection  that  orators  have 
striven  to  attain  than  that  of  Antony. 

46.  Antony  and  Cleopatra  is  of  rather 
Antony  and   a  different  order ;  it  does  not  fur- 
cieopatra.     nish,  perhaps,  so  many  striking 
beauties  as  the  last,  but  is,  at  least,  equally 
redolent   of  the   genius   of  Shakspeare. 
Antony,  indeed,  was  given  him  by  history, 
and  he  has  but  imbodied  in  his  own  vivid 
colours  the  irregular  mind  of  the  triumvir, 
ambitious  and  daring  against  all  enemies 
but  himself.     In  Cleopatra  he  had  less  to 
guide  him  ;  she  is  another  incarnation  of 
the  same  passions,  more  lawless  and  in- 
sensible to  reason  and  honour,  as  they  are 
found  in  women.     This  character  being 
not  one  that  can  please,  its  strong  and 
spirited  delineation  has  not  been  sufficient- 
ly observed.     It  has,  indeed,  only  a  poet- 
ical originality ;  (the  type  was  in  the  cour- 
tesan of  common  life,  but  the  resemblance 
is  that  of  Michael  Angelo's  Sibyls  to  a 
muscular  woman.     In  this  tragedy,  like 
Julius  Caesar,  as  has  been  justly  observed 
by  Schlegel,  the  events  that  do  not  pass 
on  the    stage   are   scarcely  made    clear 
enough  to  one  who  is  not  previously  ac- 
quainted with  history,  and  some  of  the 
persons  appear  and  vanish  again  without 
sufficient  reason.     He  has,  in  fact,  copied 
Plutarch  too  exactly. 

47.  This  fault  is  by  no  means  discern- 

ed in  the  third  Roman  tragedy 
Coftotamu.   Qf  shakspeare>  Coriolanus.    He 

luckily  found  an  intrinsic  historical  unity 
which  he  could  not  have  destroyed,  and 
which  his  mangnificent  delineation  of  the 


chief  personage  has  thoroughly  maintain- 
ed. Coriolanus  himself  has  the  grandeur 
of  sculpture  ;  his  proportions  are  colossal; 
nor  would  less  than  this  transcendent 
superiority,  by  which  he  towers  over  his 
fellow-citizens,  warrant,  or  seem  for  the 
moment  to  warrant,  his  haughtiness  and 
their  pusillanimity.  The  surprising  judg- 
ment of  Shakspeare  is  visible  in  this.  A 
dramatist  of  the  second  class,  a  Corneille, 
a  Schiller,  or  an  Alfieri,  would  not  have  lost 
the  occasion  of  representing  the  plebeian 
form  of  courage  and  patriotism.  A  tribune 
would  have  been  made  to  utter  noble 
speeches,  and  some  critics  would  have 
extolled  the  balance  and  contrast  of  the 
antagonist  principles.  And  this  might 
have  degenerated  into  the  general  saws 
of  ethics  and  politics  which  philosophical 
tragedians  love  to  pour  forth.  But  Shaks- 
peare instinctively  perceived  that,  to  ren- 
der the  arrogance  of  Coriolanus  endurable 
to  the  spectator  or  dramatically  probable 
he  must  abase  the  plebeians  to  a  con- 
temptible populace.  The  sacrifice  of  his- 
toric truth  is  often  necessary  for  the  truth 
of  poetry.  The  citizens  of  early  Rome, 
"  rusticorum  mascula  miliium  proles"  are 
indeed  calumniated  in  his  scenes,  and 
might  almost  pass  for  burgesses  of  Strat- 
ford ;  but  the  unity  of  emotion  is  not  dis- 
sipated by  contradictory  energies.  Cori- 
olanus is  less  rich  in  poetical  style  than 
the  other  two,  but  the  comic  parts  are  full 
of  humour.  In  these  three  tragedies  it  ia 
manifest  that  Roman  character,  and,  still 
more,  Roman  manners,  are  not  ^exhibited 
with  the  precision  of  a  scholar;  yet  there 
is  something  that  distinguishes  them  from 
the  rest,  something  of  a  grandiosity  in  the 
sentiments  and  language,  which  shows  us 
that  Shakspeare  had  not  read  that  history 
without  entering  into  its  spirit. 

48.  Othello,  or  perhaps  the  Tempest, 
is  reckoned  by  many  the  latest  His  retire, 
of  Shakspeare's  works.  In  the  ment  and 
zenith  of  his  faculties,  in  posses-  death- 
sion  of  fame  disproportionate,  indeed,  to 
what,  has  since  accrued  to  his  memory, 
but  beyond  that  of  any  contemporary,  at 
the  age  of  about  forty-seven,  he  ceased  to 
write,  and  settled  himself,  at  a  distance 
from  all  dramatic  associations,  in  his  own 
native  town;  a  home  of  which  he  had 
never  lost  sight,  nor  even  permanently 
quitted ;  the  birthplace  of  his  children, 
and  to  which  he  brought  what  might  then 
seem  affluence  in  a  middle  station,  with 
the  hope,  doubtless,  of  a  secure  decline 
into  the  yellow  leaf  of  years.  But  he  was 
cut  off  in  1616,  not,  probably,  in  the  midst 
of  any  schemes  for  his  own  glory,  but  to 
the  loss  of  those  enjoyments  which  he 


FROM  1600  TO  1650. 


203 


had  accustomed  himself  to  value  beyond 
it.  His  descendants,  it  is  well  known, 
became  extinct  in  little  more  than  half  a 
century. 

49.  The  name  of  Shakspeare  is  the 
Greatness  of  greatest  in  our  literature — it  is 
his  genius,  the  greatest  in  all  literature. 
No  man  ever  came  near  to  him  in  the 
creative  powers  of  the  mind  ;  no  man  had 
ever  such  strength  at  once,  and  such  va- 
riety of  imagination.  Coleridge  has  most 
felicitously  applied  to  him  a  Greek  epi- 
thet, given  before  to  I  know  not  whom, 
certainly  none  so  deserving  of  it,  pvpiovovf, 
»he  thousand-souled  Shakspeare.*  The 
number  of  characters  in  his  plays  is  as- 
tonishingly great,  without  reckoning  those 
who,  although  transient,  have  often  their 
individuality ;  all  distinct,  all  types  of  hu- 
man life  in  well-defined  differences.  Yet 
he  never  takes  an  abstract  quality  to  im- 
body  it ;  scarcely,  perhaps,  a  definite  con- 
dition of  manners,  as  Jonson  does ;  nor 
did  he  draw  much,  as  I  conceive,  from 
living  models ;  there  is  no  manifest  ap- 
pearance of  personal  caricature  in  his 
comedies,  though,  in  some  slight  traits,  of 
character,  this  may  not  improbably  have 
been  the  case.  Above  all,  neither  he  nor 
his  contemporaries  wrote  for  the  stage  in 
the  worst,  though  most  literal,  and,  of  late 
years,  the  most  usual  sense  ;  making  the 
servants  and  handmaids  of  dramatic  in- 
vention to  lord  over  it,  and  limiting  the 
capacities  of  the  poet's  mind  to  those  of 
the  performers.  If  this  poverty  of  the 
representative  department  of  the  drama 
had  hung,  like  an  incumbent  fiend,  on  the 
creative  power  of  Shakspeare.  how  would 
he  have  poured  forth,  with  such  inexhaust- 
ible prodigality,  the  vast  diversity  of  char- 
acters that  we  find  in  some  of  his  plays'? 
This  it  is  in  which  he  leaves  far  behind, 
not  the  dramatists  alone,  but  all  writers 
of  fiction.  Compare  with  him  Homer, 
the  tragedians  of  Greece,, the  poets  of  Ita- 
ly, Plautus,  Cervantes,  Moliere,  Addison, 
Le  Sage,  Fielding,  Richardson,  Scott,  the 
romancers  of  the  elder  or  later  schools — 
one  man  has  far  more  than  surpassed 
them  all.  Others  may  have  been  as  sub- 
lime, others  may  have  been  more  pathet- 
ic, others  may  have  equalled  him  in  grace 
and  purity  of  language,  and  have  shunned 
some  of  its  faults  ;  but  the  philosophy  of 
Shakspeare,  his  intimate  searching  out.  of 
the  human  heart,  whether  in  the  gnomic 
form  of  sentence,  or  in  the  dramatic  exhi- 


*  Table-talk,  vol.  ii.,  p.  301.  Coleridge  had  pre- 
viously spoken  of  Shakspeare's  oceanic  mind,  which, 
if  we  take  it  in  the  sense  of  multitudinous  unity, 
irovnwv  KVftarwv  nvTiptBiiov  ytXaer/^i,  will  present  the 
same  idea  as  pvptovovsi  i  a  beautiful  image. 


bition  of  character,  is  a  gift  peculiarly  his 
own.  It  is,  if  not  entirely  wanting,  very 
little  manifested,  in  comparison  with  him, 
by  the  English  dramatists  of  his  own  and 
the  subsequent  period,  whom  we  are  about 
to  approach. 

50.  These  dramatists,  as  we  shall  speed 
ily  perceive,  are  hardly  less  infe-  iiisjudg 
rior  to  Shakspeare  in  judgment,  mem. 
To  this  quality  I  particularly  advert,  be 
cause  foreign  writers,  and  sometimes  OUT 
own,  have  imputed  an  extraordinary  bar- 
barism and  rudeness  to  his  works.    They 
belong,  indeed,  to  an  age  sufficiently  rude 
and  barbarous  in  its  entertainments,  and 
are,  of  course,  to  be  classed  with  what  is 
called   the   romantic   school,  which   has 
hardly  yet  shaken  off  that  reproach.     But 
no  one  who  has  perused  the  plays  anterior 
to  those  of  Shakspeare,  or  contemporary 
with  them,  or  subsequent  to  them  down 
to  the  closing  of  the  theatres  in  the  civil 
war,  will  pretend  to  deny  that  there  is  far 
less  regularity,  in  regard  to  everything 
where  regularity  can  be  desired,  in  a  large 
proportion  of  these  (perhaps  in  all  the  tra- 
gedies) than  in  his  own.     We  need  only 
repeat  the  names  of  the  Merchant  of  Ven- 
ice, Romeo  and  Juliet,  Macbeth,  Othello, 
the  Merry  Wives  of  Windsor,  Measure  for 
Measure.     The  plots  in  these  are  excel- 
lently constructed,  and  in  some  with  un- 
common artifice.      But  even  where   an 
analysis  of  the  §tory  might  excite  criti- 
cism, there  is  generally  a  unity  of  interest 
which  tones   the  whole.     The  Winter's 
Tale  is  not  a  model  to  follow,  but  we  feel 
that  the  Winter's  Tale  is  a  single  story ; 
it  is  even  managed,  as  such,  with  consum- 
mate skill.     It  is  another  proof  of  Shaks- 
peare's judgment,  that  he  has  given  action 
enough  to  his  comedies  without  the  bus- 
tling intricacy  of  the  Spanish  stage.     If 
his  plots  have  any  little  obscurity  in  some 
parts,  it  is  from  copying  his  novel  or  his- 
tory too  minutely. 

51.  The  idolatry  of  Shakspeare  has  been 
carried  so  far  of  late  years,  that  Drake 
and  perhaps  greater  authorities  have  been 
unwilling  to  acknowledge  any  faults  in  his 
plays.     This,  however,  is  an  extravagance 
rather  derogatory  to  the  critic  than  hon- 
ourable to  the  poet.     Besides  the  blem- 
ishes of  construction  in  some  of  his  plots, 
which  are  pardonable,  but  still  blemishes, 
there  are  too  many  in  his  style.     His  con- 
ceits and  quibbles  often  spoil  the  effect  of 
his  scenes,  and  take  off  from  the  passion 
he  would  excite.     In  the  last  act  of  Rich- 
ard II.,  the  Duke  of  York  is  introduced 
demanding  the  punishment  of  his  son  Au- 
male  for  a  conspiracy  against  the  king, 
while  the  duchess  implores  mercy.    Th»- 


204 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


His  obscurity. 


scene  is  ill  conceived  and  worse  executed 
throughout ;  but  one  line  is  both  atrocious 
and  contemptible.  The  duchess  having 
dwelt  on  the  word  pardon,  and  urged  the 
king  to  let  her  hear  it  from  his  lips,  York 
takes  her  up  with  this  stupid  quibble  : 

Speak  it  in  French,  king  ;  say  Pardonnez  moi. 

It  would  not  be  difficult  to  find  several 
other  instances,  though  none,  perhaps, 
quite  so  bad,  of  verbal  equivocations,  mis- 
placed and  inconsistent  with  the  person's, 
the  author's,  the  reader's  sentiment. 
52.  Few  will  defend  these  notorious 
faults.  But  is  there  not  one, 
less  frequently  mentioned,  yet 
of  more  continual  recurrence — the  ex- 
treme obscurity  of  Shakspeare's  diction  ] 
His  style  is  full  of  new  words  and  new 
senses.  It  is  easy  to  pass  this  over  as 
obsoleteness ;  but,  though  many  expres- 
sions are  obsolete  and  many  provincial ; 
though  the  labour  of  his  commentators 
has  never  been  so  profitably,  as  well  as 
so  diligently  employed  as  in  tracing  this 
by  the  help  of  the  meanest  and  most  for- 
gotten books  of  the  age,  it  is  impossible 
to  deny  that  innumerable  lines  in  Shaks- 
peare  were  not  more  intelligible  in  his 
time  than  they  are  at  present.  Much  of 
this  may  be  forgiven,  or,  rather,  is  so  in- 
corporated with  the  strength  of  his  reason 
and  fancy  that  we  love  it  as  the  proper 
body  of  Shakspeare's  soul.  Still,  can  we 
justify  the  very  numerous  passages  which 
yield  to  no  interpretation ;  knots  which 
are  never  unloosed ;  which  conjecture  does 
but  cut ;  or  even  those  which,  if  they  may 
at  last  be  understood,  keep  the  attention 
in  perplexity  till  the  first  emotion  has 
passed  away  !  And  these  occur  not 
merely  in  places  where  the  struggles  of 
the  speaker's  mind  may  be  well  denoted 
by  some  obscurities  of  language,  as  in  the 
soliloquies  of  Hamlet  and  Macbeth,  but  in 
dialogues  between  ordinary  personages, 
and  in  the  business  of  the  play.  We 
learn  Shakspeare,  in  fact,  as  we  learn  a 
language,  or  as  we  read  a  difficult  passage 
in  Greek,  with  the  eye  glancing  on  the 
commentary ;  and  it  is  only  after  much 
study  that  we  come  to  forget  a  part,  it 
can  be  but  a  part,  of  the  perplexities  he 
has  caused  us.  This  was  no  doubt  one 
reason  that  he  was  less  read  formerly,  his 
style  passing  for  obsolete,  though  in  many 
parts,  as  we  have  just  said,  it  was  never 
much  more  intelligible  than  it  is.* 

*  "  Shakspeare's  style  is  so  pestered  with  figu- 
rative expressions,  that  it  is  as  affected  as  it  is  ob- 
scure. It  is  true  that  in  his  latter  plays  he  had 
worn  off  somewhat  of  this  rust." — Dryden's  Works 
(Malone),  vol.  h.,  part  ii,  p.  252.  This  is  by  no 


53.  It  does  not  appear  probable  tha 
Shakspeare  was  ever  placed  be-  nispopu 
low,  or  merely  on  a  level  with  the  laritv- 
other  dramatic  writers   of  this  period. \ 
That  his  plays  were  not  so  frequently 
represented  as  those  of  Fletcher  is  little 
to  the  purpose  ;  they  required  a  more  ex- 
pensive decoration,  a  larger  company  of 
good   performers,    and,    above    all,   they 
were  less   intelligible  to  a  promiscuous 
audience.     But  it  is  certain  that  through 
out  the  seventeenth  century,  and  even  in 
the  writings  of  Addison  and  his  contem- 
poraries, we  seldom  or  never  meet  with 
that  complete  recognition  of  his  suprema- 
cy, that  unhesitating  preference  of  him  to 
all  the  world,  which  has  become  the  faith 
of  the  last  and  the  present  century.     And 
it  is  remarkable  that  this  apotheosis,  so  to 
speak,  of  Shakspeare  was  originally  the 
work  of  what  has  been  styled  a  frigid  and 
tasteless  generation,  the  age  of  George 
II.     Much  is  certainly  due  to  the  stage  it- 
self, when  those  appeared  who  could  guide 
and  control  the  public  taste,  and  discover 
that  in  the  poet  himself  which  sluggish 
imaginations  could  not  have  reached.   The 
enthusiasm  for  Shakspeare  is  nearly  co- 
incident with  that  for  Garrick ;    it  was 
kept  up  by  his  followers,  and  especially 
by  that  highly-gifted  family  which  has  but 
recently  been  withdrawn  from  our  stage. 

54.  A  mong  the  commentators  on  Shaks- 
peare, Warburton,  always  stri-  critics  on 
ving  to  display  his  own  acute-  Shakspeare. 
ness  and  scorn  of  others,  deviates  more 
than  any  one   else    from   the   meaning. 
Theobald 'Avas  the  first  who  did  a  little. 
Johnson  explained  much  well,  but  there 


means  the  truth,  but  rather  the  reverse  of  it ;  Dry- 
den  knew  not  at  all  which  were  earlier  or  which 
later  of  Shakspeare's  plays. 

t  A  certain  William  Cartwright,  in  commenda- 
tory verses  addressed  to  Fletcher,  has  the  assurance 
to  say, 

Shakspeare  to  thee  was  dull,  whose  best  wit  lies 
1'  th'  ladies'  questions,  and  the  fools'  replies. 
But  the  suffrage  of  Jonson  himself,  of  Milton,  and 
of  many  more  that  might  be  quoted,  tends  to  prove 
that  his  genius  was  esteemed  beyond  that  of  any 
other,  though  some  might  compare  inferior  writers 
to  him  in  other  qualifications  of  the  dramatist. 
Even  Dryden,  who  came  in  a  worse  period,  and 
had  no  undue  reverence  for  Shakspeare,  admits 
that  "  he  was  the  man  who,  of  all  modern,  and 
perhaps  ancient  poets,  had  the  largest  and  most 
comprehensive  soul.  All  the  images  of  nature 
were  still  present  to  him,  and  he  drew  them,  not 
laboriously,  but  luckily  :  when  he  describes  any- 
thing, you  more  than  see  it ;  you  feel  it  too.  Those 
who  accuse  him  to  haVe  wanted  learning  give  him 
the  greater  recommendation ;  he  was  naturally 
learned  ;  he  needed  not  the  spectacles  of  books  to 
read  nature;  he  looked  inward,  and  found  her 
there." — Dryden's  Prose  Works  (Malorie's  edition), 
vol.  i.,  part  ii.,  p.  99. 


FROM  1550  TO  1600. 


205 


is  something  magisterial  in  the  manner 
wherein  he  dismisses  each  play,  like  a 
boy's  exercise,  that  irritates  the  reader. 
His  criticism  is  frequently  judicious,  but 
betrays  no  ardent  admiration  for  Shaks- 
peare.  Malone  and  Steevens  were  two 
laborious  commentators  on  the  meaning 
of  words  and  phrases  ;  one  dull,  the  other 
clever  ;  but  the  dulness  was  accompanied 
by  candour  and  a  love  of  truth,  the  clev- 
erness by  a  total  absence  of  both.  Nei- 
ther seems  to  have  had  a  full  discernment 
of  Shakspeare's  genius.  The  numerous 
critics  of  the  last  age  who  were  not  edit- 
ors have  poured  out  much  that  is  trite 
and  insipid,  much  that  is  hyperbolical  ar?d 
erroneous  ;  yet,  collectively,  they  not  only 
bear  witness  to  the  public  taste  for  the 
poet,  but  taught  men  to  judge  and  feel 
more  accurately  than  they  would  have 
done  for  themselves.  Hurd  and  Lord 
Kaimes,  especially  the  former,  may  be 
reckoned  among  the  best  of  this  class  ;* 
Mrs.  Montagu,  perhaps,  in  her  celebrated 
Essay,  not  very  far  from  the  bottom  of 
the  list.  In  the  present  century,  Cole- 
ridge and  Schlegel,  so  nearly  at  the  same 
time  that  the  question  of  priority  and 
even  plagiarism  has  been  mooted,  gave  a 
more  philosophical,  and,  at  the  same  time, 
a  more  intrinsically  exact  view  of  Shaks- 
peare  than  their  predecessors.  What 
has  since  been  written  has  often  been 
highly  acute  and  aesthetic,  but  occasional- 
ly with  an  excess  of  refinement  which 
substitutes  the  critic  for  the  work.  Mrs. 
Jameson's  Essays  on  the  Female  Char- 
acters of  Shakspeare  are  among  the  best. 
It  was  right  that  this  province  of  illustra- 
tion should  be  reserved  for  a  woman's 
hand. 

55.  Ben   Jonson,  so   generally  known 

Ben  Jonson  b>"  that  familiar  description  that 
some  might  hardly  recognise 
him  without  it,  was  placed  next  to  Shaks- 
peare by  his  own  age.  They  were  much 
acquainted,  and  belonged  to  the  oldest, 
perhaps,  and  not  the  worst  of  clubs,  form- 
ed by  Sir  Walter  Raleigh  about  the  be- 
ginning of  the  century,  which  met  at  the 
Mermaid  in  Friday-street.  We  may  ea- 
sily believe  the  testimony  of  one  of  its 

*  Hurd,  in  his  notes  on  Horace's  Art  of  Poetry, 
vol.  i.,  p.  52,  has  some  very  good  remarks  on  the 
diction  of  Shakspeare,  suggested  by  the  "  calluia 
junctura"  of  the  Roman  poet,  illustrated  by  many 
instances.  These  remarks  both  serve  to  bring  out 
the  skill  of  Shakspeare,  and  to  explain  the  disputed 
passage  in  Horace.  Hurd  justly  maintains  the  ob- 
vious construction  of  that  passage,  "  Notum  si  cal- 
lida  verbum  Reddiderit  junctura  novum."  That 
proposed  by  Lambinus  and -Beanie,  which  begins 
with  no<rum,  is  inadmissible,  and  gives  a  worse 
cense. 


members,  that  it  was  a  feast  of  the  most 
subtle  and  brilliant  wit.*  Jonson  had 
abundant  powers  of  poignan  and  sarcas- 
tic humour,  besides  extensive  reading,  and 
Shakspeare  must  have  brought  to  the  Mer- 
maid the  brightness  of  his  fancy.  Selden 
and  Camden,  the  former  in  early  youth, 
are  reported  to  have  given  the  ballast  of 
their  strong  sense  and  learning  to  this 
cluster  of  poets.  There  has  been,  how- 
ever, a  prevalent  tradition  that  Jonson 
was  not  without  some  malignant  and  en- 
vious feelings  towards  Shakspeare.  Gif- 
ford  has  repelled  this  imputation  with 
considerable  success,  though  we  may  still 
suspect  that  there  was  something  caustic 
and  saturnine  in  the  temper  of  Jonson. 

56.  The  Alchymist  is  a  play  which  long 
remained  on  the  stage,  though  I  TheAichy- 
am  not  sure  that  it  has  been  rep-  mist. 
resented  since  the  days  of  Garrick,  who 
was  famous  in  Abel  Drugger.  Notwith- 
standing the  indiscriminate  and  injudicious 
panegyric  of  Gifford,  I  believe  there  is  no 
reader  of  taste  but  will  condemn  the  out- 
rageous excess  of  pedantry  with  which 
the  first  acts  of  this  play  abound ;  ped- 
antry the  more  intolerable,  that  it  has  not 
even  what,  however  unfit  for  the  English 
stage,  scholars  might  comprehend,  but  the 
gibberish  of  obscure  treatises  on  alchymy, 
which,  whatever  the  commentators  may 
choose  to  say,  was  as  unintelligible  as  it 
is  at  present.  Much  of  this,  it  seems  im- 
possible to  doubt,  was  omitted  in  repre- 
sentation. Nor  is  his  pedantic  display  of 
learning  confined  to  the  part  of  the  Al- 
chymist, who  had  certainly  a  right  to 
talk  in  the  style  of  his  science,  if  he  had 
done  it  with  some  moderation :  Sir  Epi- 
cure Mammon,  a  worldly  sensualist,  pla- 
ced in  the  author's  own  age,  pours  out  a 
torrent  of  gluttonous  cookery  from  the 
kitchens  of  Heliogabalus  and  Apicius ; 
his  dishes  are  to  be  camels'  heels,  the 
beards  of  barbels  and  dissolved  pearls, 
crowning  all  with  the  paps  of  a  sow.  But, 
while  this  habitual  error  of  Jonson's  vani- 
ty is  not  to  be  overlooked,  we  may  truly 
say  that  it  is  much  more  than  compensa- 
ted by  the  excellences  of  this  comedy. 
The  plot,  with  great  simplicity,  is  contin- 
ually animated  and  interesting  ;  the  char 
acters  are  conceived  and  delineated  with 
admirable  boldness,  truth,  spirit,  and  va- 
riety ;  the  humour,  especially  in  the  two 
Puritans,  a  sect  who  now  began  to  do 
penance  on  the  stage,  is  amusing ;  the 
language,  when  it  does  not  smell  too 
much  of  book-learning,  is  forcible  and 
clear.  The  Alchymist  is  one  of  the  three 


Gilford's  Life  of  Jonsou,  p.  65.    Collier,  iii.,  275. 


206 


LITERATURE   OF  EUROPE 


plays  which  usually  contest  the  superiori- 
ty among  those  of  Jonson. 

57.  The  second  of  these  is  The  Fox, 
Voipone,  or  which,  according  to  general  opin- 
The  FOX.     jon,  has  been  placed  above  the 
Alchymist.     Notwithstanding  the  dissent 
of  Gifford,  I  should  concur  in  this  suf- 
frage.   The  fable  belongs  to  a  higher  class 
of  comedy.     Without  minutely  inquiring 
whether  the  Roman  hunters  after  the  in- 
heritance of  the  rich,  so  well  described  by 
Horace,  and  especially  the  costly  pres- 
ents by  which  they  endeavoured  to  secure 
a  better  return,  are  altogether  according 
to  the  manners  of  Venice,  where  Jonson 
has  laid  his  scene,  we  must  acknowledge 
that  he  has  displayed  the  base  cupidity, 
of  which  there  will  never  be  wanting  ex- 
amples among  mankind,  in  such  colours 
as  all  other  dramatic  poetry  can  hardly 
rival.     Cumberland  has  blamed  the  man- 
ner in  which  Voipone  brings  ruin  on  his 
head  by  insulting,  in  disguise,  those  whom 
he  had  duped.     In  this,  I  agree  with  Gif- 
ford, there  is  no  violation  of  nature.     Be- 
sides their  ignorance  of  his  person,  so  that 
he  could  not  necessarily  foresee  the  effects 
of  Voltore's  rage,  it  has  been  well  and 
finely  said  by  Cumberland  himself,  that 
there  is  a  moral  in  a  villain's  outwitting 
himself.     And  this  is  one  that  many  dram- 
atists have  displayed. 

58.  In  the  choice  of  subject,  The  Fox 
is  much  inferior  to  Tartuffe,  to  which  it 
bears  some  very  general  analogy.   Though 
the  Tartuffe  is  not  a  remarkably  agreea- 
ble play,  the  Fox  is  much  less  so ;  five  of 
the  principal  characters  are  wicked  almost 
beyond  any  retribution  that  comedy  can 
dispense ;  the  smiles  it  calls  forth  are  not 
those  of  gayety,  but  scorn  ;  and  the  parts 
of  an  absurd  English  knight  and  his  wife, 
though  very  humorous,  are  hardly  promi- 
nent enough  to  enliven  the  scenes  of  guilt 
and  fraud  which  pass  before  our  eyes. 
But,  though  too  much  pedantry  obtrudes 
itself,  it  does  not  overspread  the  pages 
with  nonsense  as  in  the  Alchymist;  the 
characters  of  Celia  and  Bonario  excite 
some  interest ;   the  differences,  one  can 
hardly  say  the  gradations,  of  villany  are 
marked  with  the  strong  touches  of  Jon- 
son's  pen ;  the  incidents  succeed  rapidly 
and  naturally  ;  the  dramatic  effect,  above 
all,  is  perceptible   to  every  reader,  and 
rises  in  a  climax  through  the  last  two  acts 
to  the  conclusion. 

59.  The  Silent  Woman,  which  has  been 
The  silent  named  by  some  with  the  Alchy- 
Woman.     mjst  and  the  Fox,  falls  much  be- 
low them  in  vigorous  delineation  and  dra- 
matic effect.     It  has  more  diversity  of 
manners  than  of  character;  the  amusing 


scenes  border  sometimes  on  farce,  as 
where  two  cowardly  knights  are  made  to 
receive  blows  in  the  dark,  each  supposing 
them  to  come  from  his  adversary ;  and  the 
catastrophe  is  neither  pleasing  nor  proba- 
ble. It  is  written  with  a  great  deal  of 
spirit,  and  has  a  value  as  the  representa- 
tion of  London  life  in  the  higher  ranks  at 
that  time.  But,  upon  the  whole,  I  should 
be  inclined  to  give  to  Every  Man  in  his 
Humour  a  much  superior  place.  It  is  a 
proof  of  Jonson's  extensive  learning,  that 
the  story  of  this  play,  and  several  partic- 
ular passages,  have  been  detected  in  a  wri- 
ter so  much  out  of  the  beaten  track  as 
Lifianius.* 

60.  The  pastoral  drama  of  the   Sad 
Shepherd  is  the  best  testimony  sadShep- 
to   the    poetical   imagination  of  herd- 
Jonson.     Superior   in   originality,  liveli- 
ness, and  beauty  to  the  Faithful  Shep- 
herdess of  Fletcher,  it  reminds  us  rather, 
in  language  and  imagery,  of  the  Midsum- 
mer Night's  Dream,  and  perhaps  no  other 
poetry  has  come  so  near  to  that  of  Shaks- 
peare.     Jonson,  like  him,  had  an  extraor- 
dinary command  of  English,  in  its  popular 
and  provincial  idioms,  as  well   as  what 
might  be  gained  from  books  ;  and,  though 
his  invincible  pedantry  now  and  then  ob- 
trudes itself  into  the  mouths  of  shepherds, 
it  is  compensated  by  numerous  passages 
of  the  most  natural  and  graceful  expres- 
sion.    This  beautiful  drama  is  imperfect, 
hardly  more  than  half  remaining,  or,  more 
probably,  having  ever  been  written.      It 
was  also  Jonson's  last  song ;  age  and  pov- 
erty had  stolen  upon  him  ;  but,  as  one  has 
said  who  experienced  the  same  destiny, 
"  the  life  was  in  the  leaf,"  and  his  laurel 
remained  verdant  amid  the  snow  of  his 
honoured  head.     The  beauties  of  the  Sad 
Shepherd  might  be  reckoned  rather  poeti- 
cal than  dramatic ;  yet  the  action  is  both 
diversified  and  interesting  to  a  degree  we 
seldom  find  in  the  pastoral  drama ;  there 
is  little  that  is  low  in  the  comic  speeches, 
nothing  that  is  inflated  in  the  serious. 

61.  Two  men,  once  united  by  friendship 
and  for  ever  by  fame,  the  Dios-  Beaumont 
curi  of  our  zodiac,.  Beaumont  ami  Fletcher. 
and  Fletcher,  rose  upon  the  horizon  as  the 


*  Gifford  discovered  this.  Dryden,  who  has  giv- 
en an  examination  of  the  Silent  Woman  in  his 
Essay  on  Dramatic  Poetry,  takes  Morose  for  a  real 
character,  ami  says  that  he  had  so  been  informed. 
It  is  possible  that  there  might  be  some  foundation 
of  truth  in  this ;  the  skeleton  is  in  Libanius,  but 
Jonson  may  have  filled  it  up  from  the  life.  Dryden 
gives  it  as  his  opinion  that  there  is  more  wit  and 
acuteness  of  fancy  in  this  play  than  in  any  of  Ben 
Jonson's,  and  that  he  has  described  the  conversa- 
tion of  gentlemen  with  more  gayety  and  freedono 
than  in  the  rest  of  his  comedies,  p.  107. 


FROM  1600  TO  1650. 


207 


star  of  Shakspeare,  though  still  in  its  full- 
est brightness,  was  declining  in  the  sky. 
The  first  in  order  of  time,  among  more 
than  fifty  plays  published  with  their  joint 
names,  is  the  Woman-hater,  represented, 
according  to  Langbaine,  in  1607,  and  ascri- 
bed to  Beaumont  alone  by  Seward,  though, 
I  believe,  merely  on  conjecture.*  Beau- 
mont died,  at  the  age  of  thirty,  in  1615; 
Fletcher  in  1625.  No  difference  of  man- 
ner is  perceptible,  or,  at  least,  no  critic 
has  perceived  any,  in  the  plays  that  ap- 
peared between  these  two  epochs ;  in 
fact,  the  greater  part  were  not  printed  till 
1647,  and  it  is  only  through  the  records  of 
the  playhouse  that  we  distinguish  their 
dates.  The  tradition,  however,  of  their 
own  times,  as  well  as  the  earlier  death  of 
Beaumont,  give  us  reason  to  name  Fletch- 
er, when  we  mention  one  singly,  as  the 
principal  author  of  all  these  plays ;  and, 
of  late  years,  this  has  perhaps  become 
more  customary  than  it  used  to  be.  A 
contemporary  copy  of  verses,  indeed, 
seems  to  attribute  the  greater  share  in 
the  Maid's  Tragedy,  Philaster.  and  King 
and  No  King,  to  Beaumont.  But  testi- 
mony of  this  kind  is  very  precarious.  It 
is  sufficient  that  he  bore  a  part  in  these 
three. 

62.  Of  all  our  early  dramatic  poets,  none 
corrupt  'lave  suffered  such  mangling  by  the 
Rtateof  printer  as  Beaumont  and  Fletcher, 
their  text.  'phcjr  style  is  generally  elliptical 
and  not  very  perspicuous  ;  they  use  words 
in  peculiar  senses,  and  there  seems  often 
an  attempt  at  pointed  expression  in  which 
its  meaning  has  deserted  them.  But,  after 
every  effort  to  comprehend  their  language, 
it  is  continually  so  remote  from  all  possi- 
bility of  bearing  a  rational  sense,  that  we 
can  only  have  recourse  to  one  hypothesis, 
that  of  an  extensive  and  irreparable  cor- 
ruption of  the  text.  Seward  and  Simp- 
son, who,  in  1750,  published  the  first  edi- 
tion in  which  any  endeavour  was  made  at 
illustration  or  amendment,  though  not  men 
of  much  taste,  and  too  fond  of  extolling 
their  authors,  showed  some  acuteness, 
and  have  restored  many  passages  in  a 
probable  manner,  though  often  driven  out 
at  sea  to  conjecture  something  where  the 
received  reading  furnished  not  a  vestige 
which  they  could  trace.  No  one  since 
has  made  any  great  progress  in  this  criti- 
cism, though  some  have  carped  at  these 
editors  for  not  performing  more.  The 
problem  of  actual  restoration  in  most 
places,  where  the  printers  or  transcribers 


*  Vol.  i.,  p.  3.  He  also  thinks  the  Nice  Valour 
exclusively  Beaumont's.  These  two  appear  to  me 
about  the  worst  in  the  collection. 


have  made  such  strange  havoc,  rnnrt  evi- 
dently be  insoluble. 

63.  The  first  play  in  the  collected  works 
of  Beaumont  and  Fletcher,  though  The  Maid's 
not  the  earliest,  is  the  Maid's  Tragedy. 
Tragedy,  and  it  is  among  the  best.  None 
of  their  female  characters,  though  they  are 
often  very  successful  in  beautiful  delinea- 
tions of  virtuous  love,  attaches  our  sym- 
pathy like  Aspasia.  Her  sorrows  are  so 
deep,  so  pure,  so  unmerited  ;  she  sustains 
the  breach  of  plighted  faith  in  Amyntor, 
and  the  taunts  of  vicious  women  with  so 
much  resignation,  so  little  of  that  terma- 
gant resentment  these  poets  are  apt  to  in- 
fuse into  their  heroines ;  the  poetry  of  her 
speeches  is  so  exquisitely  imaginative, 
that,  of  those  dramatic  persons  who  are 
not  prominent  in  the  development  of  a 
story,  scarce  any,  even  in  Shakspeare,  are 
more  interesting.  Nor  is  the  praise  due 
to  the  Maid's  Tragedy  confined  to  the 
part  of  Aspasia.  In  Melantius  we  have 
Fletcher's  favourite  character,  the  brave, 
honest  soldier,  incapable  of  suspecting 
evil  till  it  becomes  impossible  to  be  ig- 
norant of  it,  but  unshrinking  in  its  punish- 
ment. That  of  Evadne  well  displays  the 
audacious  security  of  guilt  under  the  safe- 
guard of  power ;  it  is  highly  theatrical, 
and  renders  the  success  of  this  tragedy 
not  surprising  in  times  when  its  language 
and  situations  could  be  endured  by  the  au- 
dience. We  may  remark  in  this  tragedy, 
as  in  many  others  of  these  dramatists, 
that,  while  pouring  out  the  unlimited  loy- 
alty fashionable  at  the  court  of  James, 
they  are  full  of  implied  satire,  which  could 
hardly  escape  observation.  The  warm 
eulogies  on  military  glory,  the  scorn  of 
slothful  peace,  the  pictures  of  dissolute 
baseness  in  courtiers,  seem  to  spring  from 
a  dislike,  very  usual  among  the  English 
gentry,  a  rank  to  which  they  both  be- 
longed, for  that  ignominious  government ; 
and  though  James  was  far  enough  removed 
from  such  voluptuous  tyrants  as  Fletcher 
has  portrayed  in  this  and  some  other 
plays,  they  did  not  serve  to  exemplify  the 
advantages  of  monarchy  in  the  most  at- 
tractive manner. 

64.  The  Maid's  Tragedy,  unfortunately, 
beautiful  and  essentially  moral  as  it  is, 
cannot  be  called  a  tragedy  for  maids  ;  and, 
indeed,  should  hardly  be  read  by  any  re- 
spectable woman.  It  abounds  with  that 
studiously  protracted  indecency  which  dis- 
tinguished Fletcher  beyond  all  our  early 
dramatists,  and  is  so  much  incorporated 
with  his  plays,  that  very  few  of  them  can 
be  so  altered  as  to  become  tolerable  at 
present  on  the  stage.  In  this  he  is  stri- 
kingly contrasted  with  Shakspeare,  whose 


2C8 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


levities  of  this  kind  are  so  transitory,  and 

so  much  confined  to  language,  that  he  has 

borne  the  process  of  purification  with  little 

detriment  to  his  genius,  or  even  to  his  wit. 

65.  Philaster  has  been,  in  its  day,  one 

of  the  best  known  and  most  popu- 

bilaster.  ^  Qf  Fletcher's  plays.*    This  was 

•  owing  to  the  pleasing  characters  of  Philas- 
ter and  Bellario,  and  to  the  frequent  sweet- 
ness of  the  poetry.  It  is,  nevertheless, 
not  a  first-rate  play.  The  plot  is  most  ab- 
surdly managed.  It  turns  on  the  suspicion 
of  Arethusa's  infidelity.  And  the  sole 
ground  of  this  is,  that  an  abandoned  wom- 
an, being  detected  herself,  accuses  the 
princess  of  unchastity.  Not  a  shadow  of 
presumptive  evidence  is  brought  to  con- 
firm this  impudent  assertion,  which,  how- 
ever, the  lady's  father,  her  lover,  and  a 
grave,  sensible  courtier  do  not  fail  implicit- 
ly to  believe.  How  unlike  the  chain  of 
circumstance,  and  the  devilish  cunning  by 
which  the  Moor  is  wrought  up  to  think 
his  Desdemona  false !  Bellario  is  sug- 
gested by  Viola;  there  is  more  pictu- 
resqueness,  more  dramatic  importance, 
not,  perhaps,  more  beauty  and  sweetness 
of  affection,  but  a  more  eloquent  develop- 
ment of  it  in  Fletcher ;  on  the  other  hand, 
there  is  still  more  of  that  improbability 
which  attends  a  successful  concealment 
of  sex  by  mere  disguise  of  clothes,  though 
no  artifice  has  been  more  common  on  the 
stage.  Many  other  circumstances  in  the 
conduct  of  Fletcher's  story  are  ill-con- 
trived. It  has  less  wit  than  the  greater 
part  of  his  comedies ;  for  among  such,  ac- 
cording to  the  old  distinction,  it  is  to  be 
ranked,  though  the  subject  is  elevated  and 
serious. 

66.  King  and  No  King  is,  in  my  judg- 
King  and  meiit,  inferior  to  Philaster.  The 
NP  King,  language  has  not  so  much  of  poeti- 
cal beauty.  The  character  of  Arbaces  ex- 
cites no  sympathy;  it  is  a  compound  of 
vainglory  and  violence,  which  rather  de- 
mands disgrace  from  poetical  justice  than 
reward.  Panthea  is  innocent,  but  insipid  : 
Mardonius  a  good  specimen  of  what  Fletch- 
er loves  to  exhibit,  the  plain,  honest  cour- 
tier. As  for  Bessus,  he  certainly  gives 
occasion  to  several  amusing  scenes;  but 
his  cowardice  is  a  little  too  glaring ;  he  is 
neither  so  laughable  as  Bobadil,  nor  so 
sprightly  as  Parolles.  The  principal  merit 
of  this  play,  which  rendered  it  popular  on 

*  Dryden  says,  but  I  know  not  how  truly,  that 
Philaster  was  "  the  first  play  that  brought  Beau- 
mont and  Fletcher  in  esteem ;  for  before  that  they 
had  written  two  or  three  very  unsuccessfully,"  p. 
100.  Philaster  was  not  printed,  according  to  Lang- 
baine,  till  1620;  I  do  aot  know  that  we  have  any 
evidence  of  ihe  date  of  its  representation. 


the  stage  for  many  years,  consists  in  the 
effective  scenes  where  Arbaces  reveals 
his  illicit  desire.  That  especially  with 
Mardonius  is  artfully  and  elaborately  writ- 
ten. Shakspeare  had  less  of  this  skill, 
and  his  tragedies  suffer  for  it  in  their  dra- 
matic effect.  The  scene  between  John 
and  Hubert  is  an  exception,  and  there  is  a 
great  deal  of  it  in  Othello  ;  but,  in  general, 
he  may  be  said  not  to  have  exerted  the 
power  of  detaining  the  spectator  in  that 
anxious  suspense,  which  creates  almost  an 
actual  illusion,  and  makes  him  tremble  at 
every  word,  lest  the  secret  which  he  has 
learned  should  be  imparted  to  the  ima- 
ginary person  on  the  stage.  Of  this  there 
are  several  fine  instances  in  the  Greek 
tragedians,  the  famous  scene  in  the  O3di- 
pus  Tyrannus  being  the  best ;  and  it  is 
possible  that  the  superior  education  of 
Fletcher  may  have  rendered  him  familiar 
with  the  resources  of  ancient  tragedy. 
These  scenes  in  the  present  play  would 
have  been  more  highly  powerful  if  the 
interest  could  have  been  thrown  on  any 
character  superior  to  the  selfish  braggart 
Arbaces.  It  may  be  said,  perhaps,  that 
his  humiliation  through  his  own  lawless 
passions,  after  so  much  insolence  of  suc- 
cess, affords  a  moral ;  he  seems,  however, 
but  imperfectly  cured  at  the  conclusion, 
which  is  also  hurried  on  with  unsatisfac- 
tory rapidity. 

(>7.  The  Elder  Brother  has  been  gen- 
erally reckoned  among  the  best  The  Elder 
of  Fletcher's  comedies.  It  dis-  Brother, 
plays  in  a  new  form  an  idea  not  very  new 
in  fiction,  the  power  of  love,  on  the  first 
sight  of  a  woman,  to  vivify  a  soul  utterly 
ignorant  of  the  passion.  Charles,  the 
Elder  Brother,  much  unlike  the  Cymonof 
Dryden,  is  absorbed  in  study ;  a  mere 
scholar,  without  a  thought  beyond  his 
books.  His  indifference,  perhaps,  and  ig- 
norance about  the  world  are  rather  exag- 
gerated, and  border  on  stupidity ;  but  it 
was  the  custom  of  the  dramatists  in  that 
age  to  produce  effect  in  representation  by 
very  sudden  developments,  if  not  chan- 
ges, of  character.  The  other  persons  are 
not  ill-conceived ;  the  honest,  testy  Mira- 
mont,  who  admires  learning  without  much 
more  of  it  than  enables  him  to  sign  his 
name  ;  the  two  selfish,  worldly  fathers  of 
Charles  and  Angelina,  believing  them- 
selves shrewd,  yet  the  easy  dupes  pf  cox- 
comb manners  from  the  court ;  the  spirit- 
ed Angelina ;  the  spoiled  but  not  worth- 
less Eustace,  show  Fletcher's  great  talent 
in  dramatic  invention.  In  none  of  his 
mere  comedies  has  he  sustained  so  uni- 
formly elegant  and  pleasing  a  style  of  poe- 
try ;  the  language  of  Charles  is  naturally 


FROM  1600  TO  1650. 


209 


that  of  a  refined  scholar,  but  now  and  then, 
perhaps,  we  find  old  Miramont  talk  above 
himself.  The  underplot  hits  to  the  life 
the  licentious  endeavours  of  an  old  man 
to  seduce  his  inferior  ;  but,  as  usual,  it  re- 
veals vice  too  broadly.  This  comedy  is 
of  very  simple  construction,  so  that  Cib- 
ber  was  obliged  to  blend  it  with  another, 
The  Custom  of  the  Country,  in  order  to 
compose  from  the  two  his  Lo\ 
Man,  by  no  means  the  worst  play  of  that 
age.  The  two  plots,  however,  do  not  har- 
monize very  well. 

C8.  The  Spanish  Curate  is,  in  all  prob- 
The  span-  ability,  taken  from  one  of  those 
ish  curaie.  comedies  of  intrigue,  capa  y  cs- 
pada,  which  the  fame  of  Lope  dc  Vega  hud 
made  popular  in  Europe.  It  is  one  of  the 
best  specimens  of  that  manner;  the  plot 
is  full  of  incident  and  interest,  without 
being  difficult  of  comprehension,  nor,  with 
fair  allowance  for  the  conventions  of  the 
stage  and  manners  of  the  country,  improb- 
able. The  characters  are  in  full  relief 
without  caricature.  Fletcher,  with  an  ar- 
tifice of  which  he  is  very  fond,  has  made 
the  fierce  resentment  of  Violantc  break 
out  unexpectedly  from  the  calmness  she 
had  shown  in  the  first  scenes  ;  bui.  it  is  <••(> 
well  accounted  for,  that  we  see  nothing 
unnatural  in  the  development  of  passions  ! 
for  which  there  had  been  no  previous  call. 
Ascanio  is  again  one  of  Fletcher's  favour- 
ite delineations  ;  a  kind  of  Bcllario  in  his 
modest,  affectionate  disposition  ;  one  in 
whose  prosperity  the  reader  takes  so 
much  pleasure  that  he  forgets  it  is,  in  a 
worldly  sense,  inconsistent  with  that  of 
the  honest-hearted  Don  Jamie.  Tl 
ting  husband,  Don  Henrique,  cor 
well  with  the  jealous  Bartolus  ;  and  both 
afford,  by  their  fate,  the  sort  of  moral  which 
is  looked  for  in  comedy.  The  underpiot 
of  the  lawyer  and  his  wife,  while  it  shows 
how  licentious  in  principle  as  well  as  in- 
decent in  language  the  stage  ha:!  become, 
is  conducted  with  incomparable  humour 
and  amusement.  Cougreve  borrowed 
part  of  this  in  the  Old  Bachelor,  without 
by  any  means  equalling  it.  Upon  the 
whole,  as  a  comedy  of  this  class,  it  de- 
serves to  be  placed  in  the  highest  rank. 

f>9.  The  Custom  of  the  Country  is  much 
The  custom  or  deformed  by  obscenity,  espe- 
thc  country,  cially  the  first  act.  But  it  is 
full  of  nobleness  in  character  and  senti- 
ment, of  interesting  situations,  of  unceas- 
ing variety  of  action.  Fletcher  lias  never 
shown  what  he  so  much  delights  in  draw- 
ing, the  contrast  of  virtuous  dignity  with 
ungoverned  passion  in  woman,  with  more 
success  than  in  '/enocia  and  Uippolyta. 
Of  these  three  plays  we  may  say,  perhaps> 

VOL.  II.— D  D 


that  there  is  more  poetry  in  the  Elder 
Brother,  more  interest  in  the  Custom  of 
the  Country,  more  wit  and  spirit  in  the 
Spanish  Curate. 

70.  The  Loyal  Subject  ought  also  to  be 
placed  in  a  high  rank  among  the  The  i.oyni 
works  of  Beaumont  and  Fletcher,  suiijoct. 
There  is  a  play  by  Heywood,  The  Royal 
King  and  Loyal  Subject,  from  which  the 
general  idea  of  several  circumstances  of 
this  have  been  taken.     That  Hey  wood's 
was  the  original,  though  the  only  edition 
of  it  is  in  1(537,  while  the  Loyal  Subject 
was  represented  in    1615,  cannot  bear  a 
doubt.     The  former  is  expressly  mention- 
ed in  the  epilogue  as  an  old  play,  belong- 
ing to  a  style  gone  out  of  date,  and  not  to 
be  judged  with   rigour.      Hcywoud   has, 

re,  the  praise  of  having  conceived 
the  character  of  Earl  Marshal,  upon  which 
Fletcher  somewhat  improved  in  Archas  ; 
a  brave  soldier  of  that,  disinterested  and 
devoted  loyalty,  which  bears  all  ingrati- 
tude and  outrage  at  the  hands  of  an  un- 
worthy and  misguided  sovereign.  In  the 
days  of  James  there  could  be  no  more 
courtly  moral.  In  each  play  the  prince, 
after  depriving  his  most  deserving  subject 
of  honours  and  fortune,  tries  his  fidelity 
by  commanding  him  to  send  two  daugh- 
ter;,  whom  he  had  educated  in  seclusion, 
to  the  court,  with  designs  that  the  father 
may  easily  suspect.  The  loyalty,  how- 
ever, of  these  honest  soldiers,  like  the 
hospitality  of  Lot.  submits  to  encounter 
this  danger  ;  and  the  conduct  of  the  young 
ladies  soon  proves  that  they  might  be  trust- 
ed in  the  fiery  trial.  In  the  Loyal  Sub- 
ject, Fletcher  has  beautifully,  and  with  his 
light  touch  of  pencil,  sketched  the  two 
virtuous  sisters  ;  one  nigh-spirited,  intrep- 
id, undi-siMii-ed,  the  other  shrinking  with 
n  modesty,  a  tremulous  dcwdrop 
in  the-  cup  of  a  violet.  But,  unfortunate- 
ly, his  original  taint  betrays  itself,  and 
the  elder  sister  cannot  display  her  scorn 
of  licenliousne'-s  without  borrowing  some 
of  its  language.  If  Shakspeare  had  put 
tin  se  5  <>s  into  the  mouth  of  Isa- 

bella, how  differently  we  should  have  es- 
teemed her  character! 

71.  We  find  in  the  Loyal  Subject  what 
is  neither  pleasing  nor  probable,  the  dis- 
guise of  a  youth  as  a  girl.    This  was,  of 

.  not  offensive  to  those  who  saw 
nothing  else  on  the  stage.  Fletcher  (lid 
not  take  this  from  Heywood.  In  the 
whole  management  of  the  story  he  is  much 
superior  ;  the  nobleness  of  Arc-has  and  his 
injuries  are  still  more  displayed  than  those 
of  the  Earl  Marshal;  and  he  has  several 
new  characters,  especially  Theodore,  the 
impetuous  son  of  the  Loyal  Subject,  who 


210 


does  not  brook  the  insults  of  a  prince  as 
submissively  as  his  father,  which  fill  the 
play  with  variety  and  spirit.  The  language 
is  in  some  places  obscure  and  probably 
corrupt,  but  abounding  with  that  kind  of 
poetry  which  belongs  to  Fletcher. 

1-2."  Beggar's  Bush  is  an  excellent  com- 
lieggar's  edy  ;  the  serious  parts  interesting, 
Jiusti.  the  comic  diverting.  Every  char- 
acter supports  itself  well  ;  if  some  parts 
of  the  plot  have  been  suggested  by  As  You 
Like  It,  they  are  managed  so  as  to  be 
original  in  spirit.  Few  of  Fletcher's  plays 
furnish  more  proofs  of  his  characteristic 
qualities.  It  might  be  represented  with 
no  great  curtailment. 

73.  The  Scornful  Lady  is  one  of  those 
The  Scorn-  comedies  which  exhibit  English 
fui  Lady,     domestic  life,  and  have,  therefore, 
a   value    independent   of  their  dramatic 
merit.     It  does  not  equal  Beggar's  Bush, 
but  is  full  of  effective  scenes,  which,  when 
less  regard  was  paid  to  decency,  must 
have  rendered  it  a  popular  play.    Fletcher, 
in  fact,  is  much  superior  to  Shakspeare  in 
his  knowledge  of  the  stage,  as  he  falls  be- 
low him  in  that  of  human  nature.     His 
fertile  invention  was  turned  to  the  man- 
agement of  his  plot  (always  with  a  view 
to  representation),  the  rapid  succession  of 
incidents,  the   surprises   and   embarrass- 
ments which  keep  the  spectator's  atten- 
tion alive.    His  characters  are  but  vehicles 
to  the  story ;  they  are  distinguished,  for 

rthe  most  part,  by  little  more  than  the 
slight  peculiarities  of  manner,  which  are 
easily  caught  by  the  audience  ;  and  we  do 
not  often  meet,  especially  in  his  comedies, 
with  the  elaborate  delineations  of  Jonson, 
cr  the  marked  idiosyncracies  of  Shaks- 
peare. Of  these  his  great  predecessors, 
one  formed  a  deliberate  conception  of  a 
character,  whether  taken  from  general 
nature  or  from  manners,  and  drew  his 
figure,  as  it  were,  in  his  mind  before  he 
transferred  it  to  the  canvass ;  with  the 
other,  the  idea  sprang  out  of  the  depths  of 
his  soul,  and,  though  suggested  by  the 
story  he  had  chosen,  became  so  much 
the  favourite  of  his  genius  as  he  wrote, 
that  in  its  development,  he  sometimes 
grew  negligent  of  his  plot. 

74.  No  tragedy  of  Fletcher  would  de- 

serve higher  praise  than  Valen- 

Valentmian.    .•    •          •?»_     iT  j 

timan,  if  he  had  not.  by  an  in- 
conceivable want  of  taste  and  judgment, 
descended  from  beauty  and  dignity  to  the 
most  preposterous  absurdities.  The  ma- 
tron purity  of  the  injured  Lucina,  the  rav- 
ages of  unrestrained  self-indulgence  on  a 
mind  not  wholly  without  glimpses  of  vir- 
tue in  Valentinian,  the  vileness  of  his 
courtiers,  the  spirited  contrast  of  uncon- 


querable loyalty  in  Aetius,  with  the  natural 
indignation  at  wrong  in  Maximus,  are 
brought  before  our  eyes  in  some  of  Fletch- 
er's best  poetry,  though  in  a  text  that 
seems  even  more  corrupt  than  usual. 
But  after  the  admirable  scene  in  the  third 
act,  where  Lucina  (the  Lucretia  of  this 
story)  reveals  her  injury,  perhaps  almost 
the  only  scene  in  this  dramatist,  if  we  ex- 
cept the  Maid's  Tragedy,  that  can  move 
us  to  tears,  her  husband  Maximus,  who 
even  here  begins  to  forfeit  our  sympathy 
by  his  ready  consent,  in  the  Spanish  style 
of  perverted  honour,  to  her  suicide,  be- 
comes a  treacherous  and  ambitious  villain ; 
the  loyalty  of  Aetius  turns  to  downright 
folly,  and  the  rest  of  the  play  is  but  such 
a  series  of  murders  as  Marston  or  the 
author  of  Andronicus  might  have  devised. 
If  Fletcher  meant,  which  he  very  probably 
did,  to  inculcate  as  a  moral  that  the  worst 
of  tyrants  are  to  be  obeyed  with  unflinch- 
ing submission,  he  may  have  gained  ap- 
plause at  court  at  the  expense  of  his 
reputation  with  posterity. 

75.  The  Two  Noble  Kinsmen  is  a  play 
that  has  been  honoured  by  a  The  TWO  NO- 
tradition  of  Sinkspeare's  con-  b!e  Kinsmen. 
cern  in  it.  The  evidence  as  to  this  is  the 
title-page  of  the  first  edition;  which, 
though  it  may  seem  much  at  first  sight, 
is  next  to  nothing  in  our  old  drama,  full 
of  misnomers  of  this  kind.  The  editors  of 
Beaumont  and  Fletcher  have  insisted  upon 
what  they  take  for  marks  of  Shakspeare's 
style  ;  and  Schlegel,  after  "  seeing  no  rea- 
son for  doubting  so  probable  an  opinion," 
detects  the  spirit  of  Shakspeare  in  a  certain 
ideal  purity  which  distinguishes  this  from 
other  plays  of  Fletcher,  and  in  the  con- 
scientious fidelity  with  which  it  follows 
the  Knight's  Tale  in  Chaucer.  The  Two 
Noble  Kinsmen  has  much  of  that  elevated 
sense  of  honour,  friendship,  fidelity,  and 
love  which  belongs,  I  think,  more  charac- 
teristically to  Fletcher,  who  had  drunk  at 
the  fountain  of  Castilian  romance,  than  to 
one  in  whose  vast  mind  this  conventional 
morality  of  particular  classes  was  subor- 
dinated to  the  universal  nature  of  man. 
In  this  sense  Fletcher  is  always,  in  his 
tragic  compositions,  a  very  ideal  poet. 
The  subject  itself  is  fitter  for  him  than  for 
Shakspeare.  In  the  language  and  conduct 
of  this  play,  with  great  deference  to  better 
and  more  attentive  critics,  I  see  imitations 
of  Shakspeare  rather  than  such  resem- 
blances as  denote  his  powerful  stamp. 
The  madness  of  the  jailer's  daughter, 
where  some  have  imagined  they  saw  the 
master-hand,  is  doubtless  suggested  by 
that  of  Ophelia,  but  with  an  inferiority  of 
taste  and  feeling  which  it  seems  impossi- 


_,,  .  1 

ble  not  to  recognise.  The  painful  and  de- 
grading symptom  of  female  insanity,  which 
Shakspeare  has  touched  vyith  his  gentle 
hand,  is  dwelt  upon  by  Fletcher  with  all 
his  innate  impurity.  Can  any  one  believe 
that  the  former  would  have  written  the 
last  scene  in  which  the  jailer's  daughter  ap- 
pears on  the  stage  ?  Schlegel  has  too  fine 
taste  to  believe  that  this  character  came 
from  Shakspeare,  and  it  is  given  up  by 
the  latest  assertor  of  his  claim  to  a  par- 
ticipation in  the  play.* 

76.  The  Faithful  Shepherdess,  deserved- 
The  Faithful  ly  among  the  most  celebrated 
shepherJess.  productions  of  Fletcher,  stands 
alone  in  its  class,  and  admits  of  no  com- 
parison with  any  other  play.  It  is  a  pas- 
toral drama,  in  imitation  of  the  Pastor 
Fido,  at  that  time  very  popular  in  Eng- 
land. The  Faithful  Shepherdess,  howev- 
er, to  the  great  indignation  of  the  poets, 
did  not  succeed  on  its  first  representation. 
There  is  nothing  in  this  surprising  ;  the 
tone  of  pastoral  is  too  far  removed  from 
the  possibilities  of  life  for  a  stage  which 
appealed,  like  ours,  to  the  boisterous  sym- 
pathies of  a  general  audience.  It  is  a 
play  very  characteristic  of  Fletcher,  be- 
ing a  mixture  of 'tenderness,  purity,  inde- 
cency, and  absurdity.  There  is  some  jus- 
tice in  Schlegers  remark,  that  it  is  an  im- 
modest eulogy  on  modesty.  But  this  crit- 
ic, who  does  not  seem  to  appreciate  the 
beauty  of  Fletcher's  poetry,  should  hardly 
have  mentioned  Guarini  as  a  model  whom 
he  might  have  followed.  It  was  by  copy- 
ing the  Corisca  of  the  Pastor  Fido  that 
Fletcher  introduced  the  character  of  the 
vicious  shepherdess  Cloe ;  though,  ac- 
cording to  his  times,  and,  we  must  own, 
to  his  disposition,  he  has  greatly  aggrava- 
ted the  faults  to  which  just  exception  has 
been  taken  in  his  original. 

77.  It  is   impossible  to  withhold    our 


*  A  "  Letter  on  Shaksprare's  Authorship  of  the 
drama  entitled  the  Two  Noble  Kinsmen,"  Edin- 
burgh, 1833,  notwithstanding  this  title,  does  not 
deny  a  considerable  participation  to  Fletcher.  He 
lays  no  great  stress  on  the  external  evidence.  But, 
in  arguing  from  the  similarity  of  style  in  many  pas- 
sages to  that  of  Shakspeare,  the  author,  with  whose 
name  I  am  unacquainted,  shows  so  much  taste  and 
so  competent  a  knowledge  of  the  two  dramatists, 
that  I  should  perhaps  scruple  to  set  up  my  own 
doubts  in  opposition.  His  chief  proofs  are  drawn 
from  the  force  and  condensation  of  language  in  par- 
ticular passages,  which,  doubtless,  is  one  of  the 
great  distinctions  between  the  two.  But  we  might 
wish  to  have  seen  this  displayed  in  longer  extracts 
than  such  as  the  author  of  this  Letter  has  generally 
given  us.  It  is  difficult  to  say  of  a  man  like  Fletch 
er  that  he  could  not  have  written  single  lines  ii 
the  spirit  of  his  predecessor.  A  few  instances 
however,  of  longer  passages  will  be  found  ;  and 
believe  that  it  is  a  subject  upon  which  there  wil 
long  be  a  difference  of  opinion. 


praise  from  the  poetical  beauties  of  this 
pastoral  drama.  Every  one  knows  that 
it  contains  the  germe  of  Comus  ;  the  be- 
nevolent Satyr,  whose  last  proposition  to 
"  stray  in  the  middle  air,  and  stay  the 
sailing  rack,  or  nimbly  take  hold  of  the 
moon,"  is  riot  much  in  the  character  of 
these  sylvans,  has  been  judiciously  met- 
amorphosed by  Milton  to  an  attendant 
spirit ;  and  a  more  austere,  as  well  as 
more  uniform  language  has  been  given  to 
the  speakers.  .But  Milton  has  borrowed 
largely  from  the  imagination  of  his  prede- 
cessor ;  and,  by  quoting  the  lyric  parts  of 
the  Faithful  Shepherdess,  it  would  be  easy 
to  deceive  any  one  not  accurately  familiar 
with  the  songs  of  Comus.  They  abound 
with  that  rapid  succession  of  ideal  scen- 
ery, that  darting  of  the  poet's  fancy 
from  earth  to  heaven,  those  picturesque 
ind  novel  metaphors,  which  distinguish 
nost  of  the  poetry  of  this  age,  and  which 

re  ultimately,  perhaps,  in  great  measure 

eferrible  to  Shakspeare. 

78.  Kule  a  Wife  and  Have  a  Wife  is 
imong  the  superior  comedies  of  RUle  a  Wjfe 

tS  class.      That   it  has  a  protO-   and  Have  a 

ype  on  the  Spanish  theatre  VVlft;' 
nust  appear  likely ;  but  I  should  be  sur- 
prised if  the  variety  and  spirit  of  charac- 
er,  the  vivacity  of  humour,  be  not  chiefly 
lue  to  our  own  authors.  Every  person- 
age in  this  comedy  is  drawn  with  a  vigor-  .- 
ous  pencil,  so  that  it  requires  a  good 
company  to  be  well  represented.  It  is, 
ndeed,  a  mere  picture  of  roguery  ;  for 
;ven  Leon,  the  only  character  for  whom 
we  can  feel  any  sort  of  interest,  has  gain- 
d  his  ends  by  stratagem  ;  but  his  gallant 
pirit  redeems  this  in  our  indulgent  views 
of  dramatic  morality,  and  we  are  justly 
pleased  with  the  discomfiture  of  fraud  and 
effrontery  in  Estifania  and  Margarita. 

79.  The  Knight  of  the  'Burning  Pestle 
s  very  diverting,  and  more  sue-  some  other 

cessful,  perhaps,  than  any  pre-  i'la3's. 
vious  attempt  to  introduce  a  drama  within 
a  drama.  I  should  hardly  except  the  In- 
duction to  the  Taming  of  a  Shrew.  The 
burlesque,  though  very  ludicrous,  does  not 
transgress  all  bounds  of  probability.  The 
Wild-goose  Chase,  The  Chances,  The  Hu- 
morous Lieutenant,  Women  Pleased,  Wit 
without  Money,  Monsieur  Thomas,  and 
several  other  "comedies,  deserve  to  be 
praised  for  the  usual  excellences  of  Fletch- 
er, his  gayety,  his  invention,  his  ever-va- 
rying rapidity  of  dialogue  and  incident. 
None  are  without  his  defects  ;  and  we 
may  add,  what  is  not,  in  fairness,  to  be 
called  a  defect  of  his,  since  it  applies, 
perhaps,  to  every  dramatic  writer  except 
Shakspeare  and  Moliere,  that  being  cast, 


v  «  » 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


as  it  were,  in  a  common  mould,  we  find 
both  a  monotony  in  reading  several  of  these 
plays,  and  a  difficulty  of  distinguishing 
them  in  remembrance. 

80.  The  later  writers,  those  especially 
after  the  Restoration,  did  not  fail  to  ap- 
propriate   many    of    the    inventions    of 
Fletcher.     He  and  his  colleague  are  the 
proper   founders   of  our   comedy  of  in- 
trigue, which  prevailed  through  the  sev- 
enteenth century — the  comedy  of  Wycher- 
ley,  Drydcn,  Behn,  and  Shadwell.     Their 
manner,  if  not  their  actual  plots,  may  still 
be  observed  in  many  pieces  that  are  pro- 
duced on  our  stage.    But  few  of  those  im- 
itators  came  up  to  the  sprightliness  of 
their  model.    It  is  to  be  regretted  that  it  is 
rarely  practicable  to  adapt  any  one  of  his 
comedies  to  representation  without  such 
changes  as  destroy  their  original  raciness, 
and  dilute  the  geniality  of  their  wit. 

81.  There  has  not  been  much  curiosity 
Origin  or  to  investigate  the  sources  of  his 
Flea-tier's  humorous  plays.     A  few  are  his- 
piays.       torical ;  but  it  seems  highly  prob- 
able that  the  Spanish  stage  of  Lope  de 
Vega  and  his  contemporaries  often  fur- 
nished the  subject,  and  perhaps  many  of 
the  scenes,  to  his  comedies.     These  pos- 
sess all  the  characteristics  ascribed  to  the 
comedies  of  intrigue  so  popular  in  that 
country.     The  scene,  too,  is  more  com- 
monly laid  in  Spain,  and  the  costume  of 
Spanish   manners   and   sentiments  more 
closely  observed,  than  we  should  expect 
"rom   the   invention  of   Englishmen.     It 

rould  be  worth  the  leisure  of  some  lover 
of  theatrical  literature  to  search  the  col- 
lection of  Lope  de  Vega's  works,  and,  if 
possible,  the  other  Spanish  writers  at  the 
beginning  of  the  century,  in  order  to  trace 
the  footsteps  of  our  two  dramatists. 
Sometimes  they  may  have  had  recourse 
to  novels.  The  Little  French  Lawyer 
seems  to  indicate  such  an  origin.  No- 
thing had  as  yet  been  produced,  I  believe, 
on  the  French  stage  from  which  it  could 
have  been  derived ;  but  the  story  and 
most  of  the  characters  are  manifestly  of 
French  derivation.  The  comic  humour 
of  La  Writ  in  this  play  we  may  ascribe 
to  the  invention  of  Fletcher  himself.* 

82.  It  is,  however,  not  improbable  that 


*  Dryden  reckons  this  play,  with  the  Spanish 
Curate,  the  Chances,  and  Rule  a  Wife  and  Have  a 
Wife,  among  those  which  he  supposes  to  be  drawn 
from  Spanish  novels — Essay  on  Dramatic  Poetry, 
p.  204.  By  novels  we  should  probably  understand 
plays  ;  for  those  which  he  mentions  are  little  in  the 
style  of  novels.  But  the  Little  French  Lawyer 
has  all  the  appearance  of  coming  from  a  French 
novel ;  the  scene  lies  in  France,  and  I  see  nothing 
Spanish  about  it.  Dryden  was  seldom  well  inform- 
ed about  the  early  stage. 


the  entire  plot  was  sometimes  Defects  of 
original.  Fertile  as  their  inven-  their  plots. 
lion  was,  to  an  extraordinary  degree,  in 
furnishing  the  incidents  of  their  rapid  and 
animated  comedies,  we  may  believe  the 
fable  itself  to  have  sometimes  sprung 
from  no  other  source.  It  seems,  indeed, 
now  and  then,  as  if  the  authors  had' gone 
forward  writh  no  very  clear  determination 
of  their  catastrophe  ;  there  is  a  want  of 
unity  in  the  conception,  a  want  of  consist- 
ency in  the  characters,  which  appear 
sometimes  rather  intended  to  surprise  by 
incongruity  than  framed  upon  a  definite 
model.  That  of  Ruy  Diaz,  in  the  Island 
Princess,  of  whom  it  is  hard  to  say  whether 
he  is  a  brave  man  or  a  coward,  or  alter- 
nately one  and  the  other,  is  an  instance  to 
which  many  more  might  easily  be  added. 
In  the  Bloody  Brother,  Rollo  sends  to 
execution  one  of  his  counsellors,  whose 
daughter  Edith  vainly  interferes  in  a  scene 
of  great  pathos  and  effect.  In  the  progress 
of  the  drama  she  arms  herself  to  take 
away  the  tyrant's  life ;  the  whole  of  her 
character  has  been  consistent  and  ener- 
getic ;  when  Fletcher,  to  the  reader's  as- 
tonishment, thinks  fit  to  imitate  the  scene 
between  Richard  and  Lady  Anne  ;  and  the 
ignominious  fickleness  of  that  lady,  whom 
Shakspeare,with  wonderful  skill,  but  in  a 
manner  not  quite  pleasing,  sacrifices  to 
the  better  display  of  the  cunning  crook- 
back,  is  here  transferred  to  the  heroine  of 
the  play,  and  the  very  character  upon 
whom  its  interest  ought  to  depend.  Edith 
is  on  the  point  of  giving  up  her  pin-pose, 
when,  some  others  in  the  conspiracy  com- 
ing in,  she  recovers  herself  enough  to  ex- 
hort them  to  strike  the  blow.* 

83.  The  sentiments  and  style  of  Fletch- 
er, where  not  concealed  by  ob-       . 
scurity  or  corruption  of  the  text,  mef^a  InT 
are  very  dramatic.     We  cannot  style  dra- 
deny  that  the  depths  of  Shaks-  niatic- 
peare's  mind  were  often  unfathomable  by 
an  audience ;  the  bow  was  drawn  by  a 
matchless  hand,  but  the  shaft  went  out  of 
sight.   All  might  listen  to  Fletcher's  pleas- 
ing, though  not  profound  or  vigorous  lan- 
guage ;  his  thoughts  are  noble,  and  tinged 
with  the  ideality  of  romance;  his  metaphors 
vivid,  though  sometimes  too  forced ;  he 
possesses  the  idiom  of  English  without 


*  Rotrou,  in  his  Wenceslas,  as  we  have  already 
observed,  has  done  something  of  the  same  kind ;  it 
may  have  been  meant  as  an  ungenerous  and  calum 
nious  attack  on  the  constancy  of  the  female  sex. 
If  lions  were  painters,  the  old  fable  snys,  they 
would  exhibit  a  very  different  view  of  their  conten- 
tions with  men.  But  lionesses  are  become  very 
good  painters  ;  and  it  is  but  through  their  clemency 
that  we  are  not  delineated  in  such  a  style  as  would 
retaliate  the  injuries  of  these  tragedians. 


FROM  1600  TO  1C50. 


213 


much  pedantry,  though  in  many  passages 
he  strains  it  beyond  common  use ;  his 
versification,  though  studiously  irregular, 
is  often  rhythmical  and  sweet.  Yet  we 
are  seldom  arrested  by  striking  beauties  ; 
good  lines  occur  in  every  page,  fine  ones 
but  rarely;  we  lay  down  the  volume  with 
a  sense  of  admiration  of  what  we  have 
read,  but  little  of  it  remains  distinctly  in 
the  memory.  Fletcher  is  not  much  quoted, 
and  has  not  even  afforded  copious  mate- 
rials to  those  who  cull  the  beauties  of  an- 
cient lore. 

84.  In  variety  of  character  there  can  be 
Their  char  no  comparison  between  Fletcher 
aeters.  and  Shakspeare.  A  few  types 
return  upon  us  in  the  former ;  an  old  gen- 
eral, proud  of  his  wars,  faithful  and  pas- 
sionate ;  a  voluptuous  and  arbitrary  king 
(for  his  principles  of  obedience  do  not 
seem  to  have  inspired  him  with  much 
confidence  in  royal  virtues),  a  supple  cour- 
tier, a  high-spirited  youth,  or  one  more 
gentle  in  manners,  but  not  less  stout  in  ac- 
tion; a  lady,  fierce,  and  not  always  very 
modest  in  her  chastity,  repelling  the  soli- 
citations of  licentiousness,  another  impu- 
dently vicious,  form  the  usual  pictures  for 
his  canvass.  Add  to  these,  for  the  lighter 
comedy,  an  amorous  old  man  a  gay  spend- 
thrift, and  a  few  more  of  the  staple  char- 
acters of  the  stage,  and  we  have  the  mate- 
rials of  Fletcher's  dramatic  world.  It 
must  be  remembered  that  we  compare 
him  only  with  Shakspeare,  and  that,  as  few 
dramatists  have  been  more  copious  than 
Fletcher,  few  have  been  so  much  called 
upon  for  inventions,  in  which  the  custom 
of  the  theatre  has  not  exacted  much 
originality.  The  great  fertility  of  his  mind 
in  new  combinations  of  circumstance  gives 
as  much  appearance  of  novelty  to  the  per- 
sonages themselves  as  an  unreflecting  au- 
dience requires.  In  works  of  fiction,  even 
those  which  are  read  in  the  closet,  this 
variation  of  the  mere  dress  of  a  character 
is  generally  found  sufficient  for  the  public. 

85.  The  tragedies  of  Beaumont  and 
Their  trage-  Fletcher,  by  which  our  ancestors 
dies  '  seem  to  have  meant  only  plays 
wherein  any  of  the  personages,  or,  at  least, 
any  whom  the  spectator  would  wish  to 
keep  alive,  dies  on  the  stage,  are  not  very 
numerous,  but  in  them  we  have  as  copious 
an  effusion  of  blood  as  any  contemporary 
dramas  supply.  The  conclusion,  indeed, 
of  these,  and  of  the  tragi-comedies,  which 
form  a  larger  class,  is  generally  misman- 
aged. A  propensity  to  take  the  audience 
by  surprise  leads  often  to  an  unnatural 
and  unsatisfactory  catastrophe ;  it  seems 
their  aim  to  disappoint  common  expecta- 
tion, to  baffle  reasonable  conjecture,  to 


mock  natural  sympathy.  This  is  frequent- 
ly the  practice  of  our  modern  novelists, 
who  find  no  better  resource  in  the  poverty 
of  their  invention  to  gratify  the  jaded  palate 
of  the  world. 

86.  The  comic  talents  of  these  authors 
far  exceeded  their  skill  in  trage-  jnferjor  ,„ 
dy.     In  comedy  they  founded  a  iiieir  come- 
new  school,  at  least  in  England,  dies- 

the  vestiges  of  which  are  still  to  be  traced 
in  our  theatre.  Their  plays  are  at  once 
distinguishable  from  those 'of  their  con- 
temporaries by  the  regard  to  dramatic 
effect  which  influenced  the  writers'  imagi- 
nation. Though  not  personally  connected 
with  the  stage,  they  had  its  picture  ever 
before  their  eyes.  Hence  their  incidents 
are  numerous  and  striking,  their  characters 
sometimes  slightly  sketched  ;  not  drawn, 
like  those  of  .Tonson,  from  a  preconceived 
design,  but  preserving  that  degree  of  indi- 
vidual distinctness  which  a  common  audi- 
ence requires,  and  often  highly  humorous 
without  extravagance  ;  their  language  brill- 
iant with  wit ;  their  measure,  though  they 
do  not  make  great  use  of  prose,  very  lax 
and  rapid,  running  frequently  to  lines  of 
thirteen  and  fourteen  syllables.  Few  of 
their  comedies  are  without  a  mixture  of 
grave  sentiments  or  elevated  characters  ; 
and,  though  there  is  much  to  condemn  in 
their  indecency  and  even  licentiousness 
of  principle,  they  never  descend  to  the 
coarse  buffoonery  not  unfrequent  in  their, 
age.  Never  were  dramatic  poets  more 
thoroughly  gentlemen,  according  to  the 
standard  of  their  times ;  and,  when  we 
consider  the  court  of  James  I.,  we  may 
say  that  they  were  above  that  standard.* 

87.  The  best  of  Fletcher's  characters 
are    female ;    he   wanted   that  Their  female 
large  sweep  of  reflection  and  characters, 
experience  which  is  required  for  the  great- 
er diversity  of  the  other  sex.     None  of 


*  "  Their  plots  were  generally  more  regular 
than  Shakspeare's,  especially  those  which  were 
made  before  Beaumont's  death;  and  they  under- 
stood and  imitated  thp  conversation  of  gentlemen 
much  better,  whose  wild  debaucheries  and  quick- 
ness of  wit  in  repartees  no  poet  before  them  could 
paint  as  they  have  done.  Humour  which  Ben  Jon- 
son  derived  from  particular  persons,  they  made  it 
not  their  business  to  describe  ;  they  represented  all 
the  pass-ions  very  lively,  but,  above  all,  love.  I  am 
apt  to  believe  the  English  language  in  them  arrived 
to  its  highest  perfection ;  what  words  have  since 
been  taken  in  are  rather  superfluous  than  orna- 
mental. Their  plays  are  now  the  most  pleasant 
and  frequent  entertainments  of  the  slage,  two  of 
theirs  being  acted  through  the  year  for  one  of 
Shakspeare's  or  Jonson's  ;  the  reason  is,  because 
there  is  a  certain  gayety  in  their  comedies,  and 
pathos  in  their  more  serious  plays,  which  suits 
generally  with  all  men's  humours.  Shakspeare's 
language  is  likewise  a  little  obsolete,  and  Jonson's 
wit  falls  short  of  theirs."— Dryden,  p.  101. 


214 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


his  womer.  delight  us  like  Imogen  and 
Desdemona;  but  he  has  many  Imogens 
and  Desdewonas  of  a  fainter  type.  Spa- 
celia,  Zenocia,  Celia,  Aspasia,  Evantho, 
Lucina,  Ordella,  Oriana,  present  the  pic- 
ture that  cannot  be  greatly  varied  without 
departing  from  its  essence,  but  which  can 
never  be  repeated  too  often  to  please  us, 
of  faithful,  tender,  self-denying  female 
love,  superior  to  everything  but  virtue. 
Nor  is  he  less  successful,  generally,  in 
the  contrast  of  minds  stained  by  guilty 
passion,  though  in  this  he  sometimes  ex- 
aggerates the  outline  till  it  borders  on 
caricature.  But  it  is  in  vain  to  seek  in 
Fletcher  the  strong  conceptions  of  Shaks- 
peare,  the  Shylocks,  the  Lears,  the  Othel- 
los.  Schlegel  has  well  said,  that  "  scarce 
anything  has  been  wanting  to  give  a  place 
to  Beaumont  and  Fletcher  among  the 
great  dramatists  of  Europe  but  want  of 
seriousness  and  depth,  and  the  regulating 
judgment  which  prescribes  the  due  limits 
in  every  part  of  composition/'  It  was  for 
want  of  the  former  qualities  that  they 
conceive  nothing  in  tragedy  very  forcibly ; 
for  want  of  the  latter  that  they  spoil  their 
first  conception  by  extravagance  and  in- 
congruity.* 

88.  The  reputation  of  Beaumont  and 
Fletcher  was  at  its  height,  and  most  of 
their  plays  had  been  given  to  the  stage, 
when  a  worthy  inheritor  of  their  mantle 
appeared  in  Philip  Massinger.  Of  his  ex- 
tant dramas  the  Virgin  Martyr,  published 
in  1622,  seems  to  be  the  earliest ;  but  we 
have  reason  to  believe  that  several  are 
lost ;  and  even  this  tragedy  may  have 
been  represented  some  years  before.  The 
far  greater  part  of  his  remaining  pieces 
followed  within  ten  years ;  the  Bashful 
Lover,  which  is  the  latest  now  known, 


f 


*  "  Shakspeare,"  says  Dryden,  "  writ  better  be- 
tween man  and  man,  Fletcher  betwixt  man  and 
woman ;  consequently,  the  one  described  friendship 
better,  the  other  love ;  yet  Shakspeare  taught 
Fletcher  to  write  love,  and  Juliet  and  Desdemona 
are  originals.  It  is  true  the  scholar  had  the  softer 
soul,  but  the  master  had  the  kinder.  .  .  Shakspeare 
had  a  universal  mind,  which  comprehended  all  char- 
acters and  passions  ;  Fletcher  a  more  confined  and 
limited  ;  for,  though  he  treated  love  in  perfection, 
yet  honour,  ambition,  revenge,  and,  generally,  all 
the  stronger  passions,  he  either  touched  not,  or  not 
masterly.  To  conclude  all,  he  was  a  limb  of 
Shakspeare." — P.  301.  This  comparison  is  rather 
generally  than  strictly  just,  as  is  often  the  case 
with  the  criticisms  of  Dryden.  That  Fletcher 
wrote  better  than  Shakspeare  "  between  man  and 
woman,"  or  in  displaying  love,  will  be  granted 
whpn  he  shall  be  shown  to  have  excelled  Ferdi- 
nand and  Miranda,  or  Posthiirnus  and  [mogen. 
And,  on  the  other  hand,  it  is  unjust  to  deny  him 
credit  for  having  sometimes  touched  the  stronger 
emotions,  especially  honour  and  ambition,  with 
great  skill,  though  much  inferior  to  that  of  Shaks- 
peare. 


was  published  in  1636.  Massinger  was,  a 
gentleman,  but  in  the  service,  according 
to  the  language  of  those  times,  of  the 
Pembroke  family  ;  his  education  was  at 
the  University ;  his  acquaintance  botli  with 
books  and  with  the  manners  of  the  court 
is  familiar ;  his  style  and  sentiments  are 
altogether  those  of  a  man  polished  by  in- 
tercourse of  good  society. 

89.  Neither  in  his  own  age  nor  in  mod- 
ern times  does  Massinger  seem  to  have 
been  put  on  a  level  with  Fletcher  or  Jon- 
son.     Several  of  his  plays,  as  has  been 
just  observed,  are  said  to  have  perished  in 
manuscript ;  few  were  represented  after 
the^lestoration ;  and  it  is  only  in  conse- 
quence of  his  having  met  with  more  than 
one  editor,  who  has  published  his  collect- 
ed works  in  a  convenient  form,  that  he  is 
become  tolerably  familiar  to  the  general 
reader.     He  is,  however,  far  more  intelli- 
gible than  Fletcher ;  his  text  has  not  given 
so  much  embarrassment  from  corruption, 
and  his  general  style  is  as  perspicuous  as 
we  ever  find  it  in  the  dramatic  poets  of 
that  age.     The  obscure  passages  in  Mas- 
singer,  after  the  care  that  Gifford  has  ta- 
ken, are  by  no  means  frequent. 

90.  Five  of  his  sixteen  plays  are  trage- 
dies, that  is,  are  concluded  in  Generai  na- 
death ;  of  the  rest,  no  one  be-  iure  of  his 
longs  to  the  class  of  mere  com-  dramas- 
edy,  but,  by  the  depth  of  the  interest,  the 
danger  of  the  virtuous,  or  the  atrocity  of 
the  vicious  characters,  as  well  as  the  ele- 
vation of  the  general  style,  must  be  rank- 
ed with  the  serious  drama,  or,  as  it  was 
commonly  termed,  tragi-comedy.   A  shade 
of  melancholy  tinges  the  writings  of  Mas- 
singer  ;  but   he   sacrifices  less  than  his 
contemporaries  to  the  public  taste  for  su- 
perfluous bloodshed  on  the  stage.    In  sev- 
eral of  his  plays,  such  as  the  Picture,  or 
the  Renegado,  where  it  would  have  been 
easy  to  determine  the  catastrophe  towards 
tragedy,  he  has   preferred  to  break  the 
clouds  with  the  radiance  of  a  setting  sun. 
He  consulted  in  this  his  own  genius ;  not 
eminently  pathetic,  nor  energetic  enough 
to  display  the  utmost  intensity  of  emo- 
tion, but  abounding  in  sweetness  and  dig- 
nity, apt  to  delineate  the  loveliness  of  vir- 
tue, and  to  delight  in  its  recompense  after 
trial.     It  has  been  surmised  that  the  reli- 
gion of  Massinger  was  that  of  the  Church 
of  Rome ;    a  conjecture  not  improbable, 
though,  considering  the  ascetic  and  imagi- 
native piety  which  then  prevailed  in  that 
of  England,  we  need  not  absolutely  go  so 
far  for  his  turn  of  thought  in  the  Virgin 
Martyr  or  the  Renegado. 

91.  The  most  striking  excellence  of  this 
poet  is  his  conception  of  character ;  and 


FROM  1600  TO  1C50. 


215 


His  deiinea-  m  this  I  must  incline  to  place 
tions  of  char-  him  above  Fletcher,  and,  if  I 
may  venture  to  say  it,  even 
above  Jonson.  He  is  free  from  the  hard 
outline  of  the  one,  and  the  negligent 
looseness  of  the  other.  He  has,  indeed, 
no  great  variety,  and  sometimes  repeats, 
with  such  bare  modifications  as  the  story 
demands,  the  type  of  his  first  design. 
Thus  the  extravagance  of  conjugal  affec- 
tion is  portrayed,  feeble  in  Theodosius, 
frantic  in  Domitian,  selfish  in  Sforza,  sus- 
picious in  Mathias  ;  and  the  same  im- 
pulses of  doting  love  return  upon  us  in  the 
guilty  eulogies  of  Mallefort  on  his  daugh- 
ter. The  vindictive  hypocrisy  of  Montre- 
ville  in  the  Unnatural  Combat  has  nearly 
its  counterpart  in  that  of  Francesco  in  the 
Duke  of  .Milan,  and  is  again  displayed 
with  more  striking  success  in  Luke.  This 
last  villain,  indeed,  and  that  original,  mas- 
terly, inimitable  conception,  Sir  Giles 
Overreach,  are  sufficient  to  establish  the 
rank  of  Massinger  in  this  great  province 
of  dramatic  art.  But  his  own  disposition 
led  him  more  willingly  to  pictures  of  mor- 
al beauty.  A  peculiar  refinement,  a  mix- 
ture of  gentleness  and  benignity  with  no- 
ble daring,  belong  to  some  of  his  favour- 
ite characters ;  to  Pisander  in  the  Bond- 
man, to  Antonio  in  a  Very  Woman,  to 
Charolois  in  the  Fatal  Dowry.  It  may 
be  readily  supposed  that  his  female  char- 
acters are  not  wanting  in  these  graces. 
It  seems  to  me  that  he  has  more  variety 
in  his  women  than  in  the  other  sex,  and 
that  they  are  less  mannered  than  the  hero- 
ines of  Fletcher.  A  slight  degree  of  error 
or  passion  in  Sophia,  Eudocia,  Marcelia, 
without  weakening  our  sympathy,  serves 
both  to  prevent  the  monotony  of  perpetual 
rectitude,  so  often  insipid  in  fiction,  and 
to  bring  forward  the  development  of  the 
story. 

92.  The  subjects  chosen  by  Massinger 
are    sometimes   historical,   but 

His  subjects.        ,  ,  '   , 

others  seem  to  have  been  taken 
from  French  or  Italian  novels,  and  those 
so  obscure,  that  hjs  editor,  Gifford,  a  man 
of  much  reading  and  industry,  lias  seldom 
traced  them.  This,  indeed,  was  a  usual 
practice  with  our  ancient  dramatists. 
Their  works  have,  consequently,  a  ro- 
mantic character,  presenting  as  little  of 
the  regular  Plaulino  comedy  as  of  the 
Greek  forms  of  tragedy.  They  are  mere- 
ly novels  in  action,  following,  probably, 
their  models  with  no  great  variance,  ex- 
cept the  lower  and  lighter  episodes,  which 
it  was  always  more  or  less  necessary  to 
combine  with  the  story.  It  is  from  this 
choice  of  subjects,  perhaps,  as  much  as 
from  the  peculiar  temper  of  the  poets, 


that  love  is  the  predominant  affection  pf 
the  mind  which  they  display ;  not  cold 
and  conventional,  as  we  commonly  find  it 
on  the  French  stage,  but  sometimes,  as 
the  novelists  of  the  South  were  prone  to 
delineate  its  emotions,  fiery,  irresistible, 
and  almost  resembling  the  fatalism  of  an- 
cient tragedy,  sometimes  a  subdued  cap- 
tive at  the  chariot-wheels  of  honour  or 
religion.  The  range  of  human  passion 
is,  consequently,  far  less  extensive  than 
in  Shakspeare  ;  but  the  variety  of  cir- 
cumstance, and  the  modifications  of  the 
paramount  affection  itself,  compensated 
for  this  deficiency. 

93.  Next  to  the  grace  and  dignity  of 
sentiment  in  Massinger,  we  must  Heautyof 
praise  those  qualities  in  his  style.  llis  s'y^- 
Every  modern  critic  has  been  struck  by 
the  peculiar  beauty  of  his  language.     In 
his  harmonious  swell  of  numbers,  in  his 
pure  and  genuine  idiom,  which  a  text,  by 
good  fortune  and  the  diligence  of  its  last 
editor,  far  less  corrupt  than  that  of  Fletch- 
er, enables  us  to  enjoy,  we  find  an  un- 
ceasing charm.     The  poetical  talents  of 
Massinger  were  very  considerable  ;    his 
taste  superior  to  that  of  his  contempora- 
ries ;    the   colouring  of   his   imagery   is 
rarely  overcharged  ;  a  certain  redundan- 
cy, as  some  may  account  it,  gives  fulness, 
or  what  the  painters  call  impasto,  to  his 
style  ;  and,  if  it  might  not  always  conduce 
to  effect  on  the  stage,  is,  on  the  whole, 
suitable  to  the  character  of  his  composi- 
tion. 

94.  The  comic  powers  of  this  w-ritcr  are 
not  on  a  level  with  the  serious  ;  inferjori,y 
with  some  degree  of  humorous  of  ins  comic 
conception  he  is  too  apt  to  aim  r°wers- 

at  exciting  ridicule  by  caricature,  and  his 
dialogue  wants  altogether  the  sparkling: 
wit  of  Shakspeare  and  Fletcher.  Wheth- 
er from  a  consciousness  of  this  defect,  or 
from  an  unhappy  compliance  with  the 
viciousncss  of  the  age,  no  writer  is  more 
contaminated  by  gross  indecency.  It  be- 
longs, indeed,  chiefly,  not  perhaps  exclu- 
sively, to  the  characters  lie  would  render 
odious ;  but  upon  them  he  has  bestowed 
this  flower  of  our  early  theatre  with  no 
sparing  hand.  Few,  it  must  be  said,  of 
his  plays  are  incapable  of  representation 
merely  on  this  account,  and  the  offence  is 
therefore  more  incurable  in  Fletcher. 

95.  Among  the  tragedies  of  Massinger 
I  should  incline  to  prefer  the  ?0meofiiis 
Duke  of  Milan.     The  plot  bor-  trashes  par- 
rows  enough  from   history  to  tl< 

give  it  dignity,  and  to  counterbalance 
in  some  measure  the  predominance  of 
the  passion  of  love  which  the  invented 
parts  of  the  drama  exhibit.  The  charac- 


* 


216 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


I 


ters  of  Sforza,  Marcelia,  and  Francesco 
are  in  Massinger's  best  manner;  the  story 
is  skilfully  and  not  improbably  developed ; 
the  pathos  is  deeper  than  we  generally 
find  in  his  writings  ;  the  eloquence  of  lan- 
guage, especially  in  the  celebrated  speech 
of  Sforza  before  the  emperor,  has  never 
been  surpassed  by  him.  Many,  however, 
place  the  Fatal  Dowry  still  higher.  This 
tragedy  furnished  Rowe  with  the  story  of 
the  Fair  Penitent.  The  superiority  of  the 
original,  except  in  suitableness  for  repre- 
sentation, has  long  been  acknowledged. 
In  the  Unnatural  Combat,  probably  among 
the  earliest  of  Massinger's  works,  we  find 
a  greater  energy,  a  bolder  strain  of  figu- 
rative poetry,  more  command  of  terror, 
and  perhaps  of  pity,  than  in  any  other 
of  his  dramas.  But  the  dark  shadows  of 
crime  and  misery  which  overspread,  this 
tragedy  belong  to  rather  an  earlier  period 
of  the  English  stage  than  that  of  Massin- 
ger,  and  were  not  congenial  to  his  temper. 
In  the  Virgin  Martyr  he  has  followed  the 
Spanish  model  of  religious  Autos,  with 
many  graces  of  language  and  a  beautiful 
display  of  Christian  heroism  in  Dorothea ; 
but  the  tragedy  is  in  many  respects  un- 
pleasing. 

96.  The  Picture,  The  Bondman,  and  A 
And  of  tils  Very  Woman  may,  perhaps,  be 
other  plays,  reckoned  the   best   among    the 
tragi-comedics   of  Massinger.      But   the 
general  merits  as  well  as  defects  of  this 
writer  are  p-erceptible  in  all ;  and  the  dif- 
ference between  these  and  the  rest  is  not 
such  as  to  be  apparent  to  every  reader. 
Two  others  are  distinguishable  as  more 
English  than  the  rest;  the  scene  lies  at 
home,  and  in  the  age ;  and  to  these  the 
common  voice  has  assigned  a  superiority. 
They  are  A  New  Way  to  Pay  Old  Debts, 
and  the  City  Madam.     A  character  drawn, 
as  it  appears,  from  reality,  and,  though 
darkly  wicked,  not  beyond  the  province  of 
the  higher  comedy,  Sir  Giles  Overreach, 
gives  the  former  drama  a  striking  origi- 
nality and  an  impressive  vigour.    It  retains 
alone,  among  the  productions  of  Massin- 
ger, a  place  on  the  stage.     Gifford  inclines 
to   prefer   the    City    Madam  ;    which,  no 
doubt,  by  the  masterly  delineation  of  Luke, 
a  villain  of  a  different  order  from  Over- 
reach, and  a  larger  portion  of  comic  hu- 
mour and  satire  than  is  usual  with  this 
writer,  may  dispute  the  palm.     It  seems 
to  me  that  there  is  more  violent  improba- 
bility in  the  conduct  of  the  plot  than  in 
A  New  Way  to  Pay  Old  Debts. 

97.  Massinger,  as  a   tragic  writer,  ap- 
Ford.  Pears  to  me  second  only  to  Shaks- 

peare  ;  in  the  higher  comedy  I  can 
hardly  think  him  inferior  to  Jonson.     In 


I  wit  and  sprightly  dialogue,  as  well  as  in 
!  knowledge  and  theatrical  effect,  he  falls 
very  much  below  Fletcher.  These,  how- 
ever, are  the  great  names  of  the  English 
stage.  At  a  considerable  distance  below 
Massinger  we  may  place  his  contempora- 
ry John  Ford.  In  the  choice  of  tragic 
subjects  from  obscure  fictions,  which  have 
to  us  the  charm  of  entire  novelty,  they  re- 
semble each  other  ;  but  in  the  conduct  of 
their  fable,  in  the  delineation  of  their  char- 
acters, each  of  these  poets  has  his  distin- 
guishing excellences.  "  I  know,"  says 
Gifford,  "  few  things  more  difficult  to  ac- 
count for  than  the  deep  and  lasting  im- 
pression made  by  the  more  tragic  portions 
of  Ford's  poetry."  He  succeeds,  howev- 
er, pretty  well  in  accounting  for  it; 'the 
situations  are  awfully  interesting,  the  dis- 
tress intense,  the  thoughts  and  language 
becoming  the  expression  of  deep  sorrow. 
Ford,  with  none  of  the  moral  beauty  and 
elevation  of  Massinger,  has,  in  a  much 
higher  degree,  the  power  over  tears  ;  we 
sympathize  even  with  his  vicious  charac- 
ters ;  with  Giovanni,  and  Annabella,  and 
Bianca.  Love,  and  love  in  guilt  or  sor- 
row, is  almost  exclusively  the  emotion  he 
portrays ;  no  heroic  passion,  no  sober 
dignity,  will  be  found  in  his  tragedies. 
But  he  conducts  his  stories  well  and  with- 
out confusion  ;  his  scenes  are  often  highly 
wrought  and  effective ;  his  characters, 
with  no  striking  novelty,  are  well  support- 
ed ;  he  is  seldom  extravagant  or  regard- 
less of  probability.  The  Broken  Heart 
has  generally  been  reckoned  his  finest 
tragedy  ;  and,  if  the  last  act  had  been  bet- 
ter prepared  by  bringing  the  love  of  Ca- 
lantha  for  Ithocles  more  fully  before  the 
reader  in  the  earlier  part  of  the  play,  there 
would  be  very  few  passages  of  deeper  pa- 
thos in  our  dramatic  literature.  "  The 
style  of  Ford."  it  is  said  by  Gifford,  "is 
altogether  original  and  his  own.  Without 
the  majestic  inarch  which  distinguishes 
the  poetry  of  Massinger,  and  with  little  or 
none  of  that  light  and  playful  humour 
which  characterizes  the  dialogue  of  Fletch- 
er, or  even  of  Shirley,  he  is  yet  elegant, 
and  easy,  and  harmonious ;  and,  though 
rarely  sublime,  yet  sufficiently  elevated 
for  the  most  pathetic  tones  of  that  pas- 
sion on  whose  romantic  energies  he  chief- 
ly delighted  to  dwell."  Yet  he  censures 
afterward  Ford's  affectation  of  uncouth 
phrases  and  perplexity  of  language.  Of 
comic  ability  this  writer  does  not  display 
one  particle.  Nothing  can  be  meaner 
than  those  portions  of  his  dramas  which, 
in  compliance  with  the  prescribed  rules  of 
that  age,  he  devotes  to  the  dialogue  of 
servants  or  buffoons. 


FROM  1COO  TO  1650. 


217 


Shirley. 


98.  Shirley  is  a  dramatic  writer  much 
inferior  to   those  who  have  been 
mentioned,  but  has  acquired  some 
degree  of  reputation,  or,  at  least,  notorie- 
ty of  name,  in  consequence  of  the  new 
edition  of  *his  plays.     These  are  between 
twenty  and  thirty  in  number ;  some  of 
them,   however,   written  in   conjunction 
with  his   fellow-dramatists.     A   few   of 
these  are  tragedies,  a  few  are  comedies 
drawn  from  English  manners ;  but  in  the 
greater  part  we  find  the  favourite  style  of 
that  age,  the  characters  foreign  and  of  el- 
evated rank,  the  interest  serious,  but  not 
always  of  buskined  dignity,  the  catastro- 
phe fortunate  ;  all,  in  short,  that  has  gone 
under  the  vague  appellation  of  tragi-come- 
dy.     Shirley  has  no  originality,  no  force 
in  conceiving  or  delineating  character,  lit- 
tle of  pathos,  and  less,  perhaps,  of  wit ; 
his  dramas  produce  no  deep  impression  in 
reading,  and,  of  course,  can  leave  none  in 
the  memory.     But  his  mind  was  poetical ; 
his  better  characters,  especially  females, 
express  pure  thoughts  in  pure  language  ; 
he  is  never  tumid  or  affected,  and  seldom 
obscure ;   the   incidents  succeed  rapidly, 
the  personages  are  numerous,  and  there 
is   a  general  animation   in   the    scenes, 
which  causes   us  to  read  him  with  some 
pleasure.     No  very  good  play,  nor,  possi- 
bly, any  very  good  scene,  could  be  found 
in  Shirley  ;  but  he  has  many  lines  of  con- 
siderable  beauty.     Among  his  comedies 
the  Gamesters  may  be  reckoned  the  best. 
Charles  I.  is  said  to  have  declared  that  it 
was  "  the  best  play  he  had  seen  these  sev- 
en years ;"  and  it  has  even  been  added  that 
the  story  was  of  his  royal  suggestion.     It 
certainly  deserves  praise  both  for  language 
and  construction  of  the  plot,  and  it  has  the 
advantage  of  exposing  vice  to   ridicule ; 
but  the  ladies  of  that  court,  the  fair  forms 
whom  Vandyke  has  immortalized,  must 
have  been  very  different  indeed  from  their 
posterity,  as,  in  truth,  I  believe  they  were, 
if  they  could  sit  it  through.    The  Ball,  and 
also  some  more  among  the  comedies  ol 
Shirley,  are  so  far  remarkable  and  worthy 
of  being  read,  that  they  bear  witness  to  a 
more  polished  elegance  of  manners,  and  a 
more  free  intercourse  in  the  higher  class 
than  we  find  in  the  comedies  of  the  pre- 
ceding reign.     A  queen  from  France,  anc 
that  queen  Henrietta  Maria,  was   better 
fitted  to  give  this  tone  than  Anne  of  Den- 
mark.   But  it  is  not.  from  Shirley's  pictures 
that  we  can  draw  the  most  favourable  no- 
tions of  the  morals  of  that  age. 

99'.  Hey  wood  is  a  writer  still  more  fer- 

tile  than  Shirley  L  between  forty 

and  fifty  plays  are  Ascribed  to  him 

We  have  mentioned  one  of  the  best  in  the 

VOL.  II. — E  E 


former  volume,  ante-dating,  perhaps,  its 
appearance  by  a  few  years.  In  the  Eng- 
ish  Traveller  he  has  returned  to  some- 
.hing  like  the  subject  of  A  Woman  Killed 
with  Kindness,  but  with  less  success. 
This  play  is  written  in  verse,  and  with 
hat  ease  and  perspicuity,  seldom  rising 
o  passion  or  figurative  poetry,  which  dis- 
inguishes  this  dramatist.  Young  Gcral- 
line  is  a  beautiful  specimen  of  the  Pla- 
onic,  or,  rather,  inflexibly  virtuous  lover 
whom  the  writers  of  this  age  delighted  to 
portray.  On  the  other  hand,  it  is  difficult 
o  pronounce  whether  the  lady  is  a  thor- 
ough-paced hypocrite  in  the  first  acts,  or 
alls  from  virtue,  like  Mrs.  Frankfort,  on 
the  first  solicitation  of  a  stranger.  In  either 
:ase  the  character  is  unpleasing.  and,  we 
may  hope,  improbable.  The  under  plot 
of  this  play  is  largely  borrowed  from  the 
Mostellaria  of  Plautus,  and  is  diverting, 
,hough  somewhat  absurd.  Heywood  sel- 
dom rises  to  much  vigour  of  poetry  ;  but 
lis  dramatic  invention  is  ready,  his  style 
is  easy,  his  characters  do  not  transgress 
the  boundaries  of  nature,  and  it  is  not  sur- 
prising that  he  was  popular  in  his  own 
age. 

100.  Webster  belongs  to  the  first  part 
of  the  reign  of  James.  He  pos- 
sessed  very  considerable  powers, 
and  ought  to  be  ranked,  I  think,  the  next 
below  Ford.  With  less  *f  poetic  grace 
than  Shirley,  he  had  incomparably  more 
vigour  ;  with  less  of  nature  and  simplicity 
than  Heywood,  he  had  a  more  elevated*%* 
genius,  and  a  bolder  pencil.  But  the  deep 
sorrows  an4  terrors  of  tragedy  were  pe- 
culiarly his  province.  "  His  imagination," 
says  his  last  editor,  "  had  a  foncT  familiar- 
ity wtih  objects  of  awe  and  fear.  The 
silence  of  the  sepulchre,  the  sculptures  of 
marble  monuments,  the  knolling  of  church 
bells,  the  cerements  of  the  corpse,  the 
yew  that  roots  itself  in  dead  men's  graves, 
are  the  illustrations  that  most  readily  pre- 
sent themselves  to  his  imagination."  I 
think  this  well-written  sentence  a  little 
one-sided,  and  hardly  doing  justice  to  the 
variety  of  Webster's  power ;  but,  in  fact, 
he  was  as  deeply  tainted  as  any  of  his 
contemporaries  with  the  savage  taste  of 
the  Italian  school,  and  in  the  Duchess  of 
Malfy  scarcely  leaves  enough  on  the  stage 
to  bury  the  dead. 

101.  This  is  the  most  celebrated  of 
Webster's  dramas.  The  story  ms  Duchess 
is  taken  from  Bandello,  and  has  oiMairy. 
all  that  accumulation  of  wickedness  and 
horror  which  the  Italian  novelists  per- 
versely described,  and  our  tragedians  as 
perversely  imitated.  But  the  scenes  are 
wrought  up  with  skill,  and  produce  a  strong 


218 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


impression.  Webster  has  a  superiority  in 
delineating  character  above  many  of  the 
old  dramatists  ;  he  is  seldom  extravagant 
beyond  the  limits  of  conceivable  nature ; 
we  find  the  guilt,  or  even  the  atrocity,  of 
human  passions,  but  not  that,  incarnation 
of  evil  spirits  which  some  more  ordinary 
dramatists  loved  to  exhibit.  In  the  char- 
acter of  the  Duchess  of  Malfy  herself 
there  wants  neither  originality  nor  skill  of 
management,  and  I  do  not  know  that  any 
dramatist  after  Shakepeare  would  have 
succeeded  better  in  the  difficult  scene 
where  she  discloses  her  love  to  an  in- 
ferior. There  is,  perhaps,  a  little  failure 
in  dignity  and  delicacy,  especially  towards 
the  close ;  but  the  Duchess  of  Malfy  is 
not  drawn  as  an  Isabella  or  a  Portia  ;  she 
is  a  love-sick  widow,  virtuous  and  true- 
hearted,  but  more  intended  for  our  sym- 
pathy than  our  reverence. 

102.  The  White  Devil,  or  Vittoria  Co- 
Vittoria  rombona,  is  not  much  inferior  in 
Corombona.  language  and  spirit  to  the  Duch- 
ess of  Malfy ;  but  the  plot  is  more  con- 
fused, less  interesting,  and  worse  con- 
ducted. Mr.  Dyce,  the  late  editor  of  Web- 
ster, praises  the  dramatic  vigour  of  the 
part  of  Vittoria,  but  justly  differs  from 
Lamb,  who  speaks  of  "  the  innocence-re- 
sembling boldness"  she  displays  in  the 
trial  scene.  It  is  rather  a  delineation  of 
desperate  guil^  losing  in  a  counterfeited 
audacity  all  that  could  seduce  or  conciliate 
the  tribunal.  Webster's  other  plays  are 
less  striking ;  in  Appius  and  Virginia  he 
has  done,  perhaps,  better  than  any  one  who 
has  attempted  a  subject  not,  on  the  whole, 
very  promising  for  tragedy  ;  several  of  the 
scenes  are  dramatic  and  effective ;  the 
language,  as  is  usually  the  case  with  Web- 
ster, is  written  so  as  to  display  an  actor's 
talents,  and  he  has  followed  the  received 
history  sufficiently  to  abstain  from  any 
excess  of  slaughter  at  the  close.  Webster 
is  not  without  comic  wit,  as  well  as  a 
power  of  imagination  ;  his  plays  have  late- 
ly met  with  an  editor  of  taste  enough  to 
admire  his  beauties,  and  not  very  over- 
partial  in  estimating  them. 


103.  Below  Webster  we  might  enumer- 
ate a  long  list  of  dramatists  under  the  first 
Stuarts.  Marston  is  a  tumid  and  ranting 
tragedian,  a  wholesale  dealer  in  murders 
and  ghosts.  Chapman,  who  assisted  Ben 
Jonson  and  some  others  in  comedy,  de- 
serves no  great  praise  for  his  Bussy 
d'Amboise.  The  style  in  this,  and  in  all  his 
tragedies,  is  extravagantly  hyperbolical ; 
he  is  not  very  dramatic,  nor  has  any  power 
of  exciting  emotion  except  in  those  who 
sympathize  with  a  tumid  pride  and  self- 
confidence.  Yet  he  has  more  thinking 
than  many  of  the  old  dramatists ;  and  the 
praise  of  one  of  his  critics,  though  strongly 
worded,  is  not  without  some  foundation, 
that  we  "  seldom  find  richer  contempla- 
tions on  the  nature  of  man  and  the  world." 
There  is  also  a  poetic  impetuosity  in  Chap- 
man, such  as  has  redeemed  his  translation 
of  Homer,  by  which  we  are  hurried  along. 
His  tragi-comedies,  All  Fools  and  The 
Gentleman-usher,  are  perhaps  superior  to 
his  tragedies.*  Rowley  and  Le  Tourneur, 
especially  the  former,  have  occasionally 
good  lines,  but  we  cannot  say  that  they 
were  very  superior  dramatists.  Rowley, 
however,  was  often  in  comic  partnership 
with  Massinger.  Dekker  merits  a  higher 
rank;  he  co-operated  with  Massinger  in 
some  of  his  plays,  and  in  his  own  displays 
some  energy  of  passion  and  some  comic 
humour.  Micldleton  belongs  to  this  lower 
class  of  dramatic  writers  ;  his  tragedy 
entitled  "  Women  beware  Women,"  is 
founded  on  the  story  of  Bianca  Cappello ;  it 
is  full  of  action,  but  the  characters  are  all 
too  vicious  to  be  interesting,  and  the  lan- 
guage does  not  rise  much  above  medioc- 
rity. In  comedy,  Middleton  deserves 
more  praise.  "  A  Trick  to  catch  the  Old 
One,"  and  several  others  that  bear  his 
name,  are  amusing  and  spirited.  But 
Middleton  wrote  chiefly  in  conjunction 
with  others,  and  sometimes  with  Jonson 
and  Massinger. 


*  Chapman  is  well  reviewed,  and  at  length,  in 
an  article  of  the  Retrospective  Review,  vol.  iv.,  p. 
333  :  and  again  in  vol.  v. 


- 


FROM  1600  TO  1650. 


219 


CHAPTER  VII. 


HISTORY  OF  POLITE  LITERATURE  IN  PROSE  FROM  1600  TO  1G50. 


SECTION  I. 

Italian  Writers.  —  Boccalini.  —  Grammatical  and 
Critical  Works.  —  Gracian  French  Writers. — 
Balzac. — Vulture.  —  French  Academy.—  Vauge- 
las — Fatru  and  Le  Maistre.— Style  of  English 
Prose.— Earl  of  Essex. — Knolles.— Several  other 
English  Writers. 

1.  IT  would  be  vain,  probably,  to  inquire 
Decline  of  from  what.'  general  cause  we 
taste  in  luiiy.  should  deduce  the  decline  of 
taste  in  Italy.  None,  at  least,  have  oc- 
curred to  my  mind,  relating  to  political  or 
social  circumstances,  upon  which  we  could 
build  more  than  one  of  those  sophistical 
theories  which  assume  a  causal  relation 
between  any  concomitant  events.  Bad 
taste,  in  fact,  whether  in  literature  or  the 
arts,  is  always  ready  to  seize  upon  the 
public,  being,  in  many  cases,  no  more  than 
a  pleasure  in  faults  which  are  really  fitted 
to  please  us,  and  of  which  it  can  only  be 
said  that  they  hinder  or  impair  the  great- 
er pleasure  we  should  derive  from  beau- 
ties. Among  these  critical  sins,  none  are 
so  dangerous  as  the  display  of  ingenious 
and  novel  thoughts  or  turns  of  phrase. 
For,  as  such  enter  into  the  definition  of 
good  writing,  it  seems  very  difficult  to 
persuade  the  world  that  they  can  ever  be 
the  characteristics  of  bad  writing.  The 
metes  and  bounds  of  ornament,  the  fine 
shades  of  distinction  which  regulate  a  ju- 
dicious choice,  are  only  learned  by  an  at- 
tentive as  well  as  a  naturally  susceptible 
mind ;  and  it  is  rarely,  perhaps,  that  an 
unprepared  multitude  does  not  prefer  the 
worse  picture,  the  worse  building,  the 
worse  poem,  the  worse  speech  to  the  bet- 
ter. Education,  an  acquaintance  with  just 
criticism,  and,  still  more,  the  habitual  ob- 
servation of  what  is  truly  beautiful  in  na- 
ture or  art,  or  in  the  literature  of  taste, 
will  sometimes  generate  almost  a  nation- 
al tact  that  rejects  the  temptations  of  a 
meretricious  and  false  style ;  but  experi- 
ence has  shown  that  this  happy  state  of 
public  feeling  will  not  be  very  durable. 
Whatever  might  be  the  cause  of  it,  this 
age  of  the  Italian  seicentisti  has  been 
reckoned  almost  as  inauspicious  to  good 
writing  in  prose  as  in  verse.  "  If  we  ex- 
cept," says  Tiraboschi,  "the  Tuscans  and 
a  very  few  more,  never  was  our  language 
so  neglected  as  in  this  period.  We  can 
scarce  bear  to  read  most  of  the  books  that 


were  published,  so  rude  and  full  of  barba- 
risms is  their  style.  Few  had  any  other 
aim  than  to  exercise  their  wit  in  conceits 
and  metaphors  ;  and,  so  long  as  they  could 
scatter  them  profusely  over  their  pages, 
cared  nothing  for  the  choice  of  phrases  or 
the  purity  of  grammar.  Their  eloquence 
on  public  occasions  was  intended  only 
for  admiration  and  applause,  not  to  per- 
suade or  move."*  And  this,  he  says,  is 
applicable  alike  to  their  Latin  and  Italian, 
their  sacred  and  profane  harangues.  The 
academical  discourses,  of  which  Dati  has 
collected  many  in  his  Prose  Florentine, 
are  poor  in  comparison  with  those  of  the 
sixteenth. f 

2.  A  later  writer  than  Tiraboschi  has 
thought  this  sentence  against  the  seicen- 
tisti a  little  too  severe,  and,  condemning 
equally  with  him  the  bad  taste  character- 
istic of  that  age,  endeavours  to  rescue  a 
few  from  the  general  censure. J     It  is  at 
least   certain  that   the   insipidity  of  the 
cinque  cento  writers :  their  long  periods, 
void  of  any  but  the  most  trivial  meaning ; 
their  affectation  of  the  faults  of  Cicero's 
manner  in  their  own  language,  ought  not 
to   be   overlooked   or  wholly    pardoned, 
while  we  dwell  on  an  opposite  defect  of 
their  successors,  the  perpetual  desire  to 
be  novel,  brilliant,  or  profound.      These 
may  doubtless  be  the  more  offensive  of 
the  two ;  but  they  are,  perhaps,  not.  less 
likely  to  be  mingled  with  something  really 
worth  reading. 

3.  It  will  not  be  expected  that  we  can 
mention  many  Italian  books,  after  what 
has  been  said,  which  come  very  precisely 
within  the  class  of  polite  literature,  or 
claim  any  praise  on  the  ground  of  style. 
Their   greatest   luminary,  Galileo,  style  of 
wrote  with  clearness,  elegance,  and  f-'anieo. 
spirit ;  no  one  among  the  moderns  had  so 
entirely  rejected  a  dry  and  technical  man- 
ner of  teaching,  and  thrown  such  attrac- 
tions round  the  form  of  truth.     Himself  a 
poet  and  a  critic,  he  did  not  hesitate  to 
ascribe  his  own  philosophical  perspicuity 
to  the  constant  perusal  of  Ariosto.     This 
1  have  mentioned  in  another  place ;  but 
we  cannot  too  much  remember  that  all 
objects  of  intellectual  pursuit  are  as  bod- 
ies acting  with  reciprocal  forces  in  one 


*  Vol.  xi.,  p.  415. 
t  Salfi,  xiv.,  11. 


t  Id.  ibid. 


220 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


system,  being  all  in  relation  to  the  facul- 
ties of  the  mind,  which  is  itself  but  one  ; 
and  that  the  most  extensive  acquaintance 
with  the  various  provinces  of  literature 
will  not  fail  to  strengthen  our  dominion 
over  those  we  more  peculiarly  deem  our 
own.  The  school  of  Galileo,  especially 
Torricelli  and  Redi,  were  not  less  distin- 
guished than  himself  for  their  union  of 
elegance  with  philosophy.* 

4.  The  letters  of  Bentivoglio  are  com- 

monly known.  This  epistolary 
art  was  always  cultivated  by  the 
Italians,  first  in  the  Latin  tongue,  and  af- 
terward in  their  own.  Bentivoglio  has 
written  with  equal  dignity  and  ease.  Gal- 
ileo's letters  are  also  esteemed  on  account 
of  their  style,  as  well  as  of  what  they  con- 
tain. In  what  is  more  peculiarly  called 
eloquence,  the  Italians  of  this  age  are  rath- 
er emulous  of  success  than  successful ; 
the  common  defects  of  taste  in  themselves, 
and  in  those  who  heard  or  read  them,  as 
well  as,  in  most  instances,  the  uninterest- 
ing nature  of  their  subjects,  exclude  them 
from  our  notice. 

5.  Trajan  Boccalini  was,  by  his  dispo- 
Boccaiim's  sition,  inclined  to  political  satire, 
News  from  and,  possibly,  to  political  intrigue ; 
Parnassus,  j^t  we  have  here  only  to  men- 
tion the  work  by  which  he  is  best  known, 
Advices    from   Parnassus   (Ragguagli  di 
Parnaso).     If  the  idea  of  this  once  popu- 
lar and  celebrated  book  is  not  original, 
which  I  should  rather  doubt,  though  with- 
out immediately  recognising  a  similarity 
to  anything  earlier  (Lucian,  the  common 
prototype,  excepted),  it  has  at  least  been 
an  original  source.     In  the  general  turn 
of  Boccalini's  fictions,  and  perhaps  in  a 
few  particular  inventions,  we  may  some- 
times perceive  what  a  much  greater  man 
has  imitated ;  they  bear  a  certain  resem- 
blance to  those  of  Addison,  though  the 
vast  superiority  of  the  latter  in  felicity  of 
execution  and  variety  of  invention  may 
almost  conceal  it.     The  Ragguagli  are  a 
series  of  despatches  from  the  court  of 
Apollo   on  Parnassus,  where  he  is  sur- 
rounded by  eminent  men  of  all  ages.    This 
fiction  becomes,  in  itself,  very  cold  and 
monotonous ;  yet  there  is  much  variety 
in  the  subjects  of  the  decisions  made  by 
the  god  with  the  advice  of  his  counsellors, 
and  some  strokes  of  satire  are  well  hit. 
though  more,  perhaps,  fail  of  effect.     But 
we  cannot  now  catch  the  force  of  every 
passage.     Boccalini  is  full  of  allusions  to 
his  own  time,  even  where  the  immediate 
subject  seems  ancient.     This  book  was 
published  at  Venice  in  1612;   at  a  time 


Salfi,  iiv.,  12. 


when  the  ambition  of  Spain  was  regarded 
with  jealousy  by  patriotic  Italians,  who 
thought  that  pacific  republic  their  bulwark 
and  their  glory.  He  inveighs,  therefore, 
against  the  military  spirit  and  the  profes- 
sion of  war,  "necessary  sometimes,  but 
so  fierce  and  inhuman  that  no  fine  expres- 
sions can  make  it  honourable."*  Nor  is 
he  less  severe  on  the  vices  of  kings,  nor 
less  ardent  in  his  eulogies  of  liberty ;  the 
government  of  Venice  being  reckoned, 
and  not  altogether  untruly,  an  asylum  of 
free  thought  and  action  in  comparison 
with  that  of  Spain.  Aristotle,  he  reports 
in  one  of  his  depatches,  was  besieged  in 
his  villa  on  Parnassus  by  a  number  of 
armed  men  belonging  to  different  princes, 
who  insisted  on  his  retracting  the  defini- 
tion he  had  given  of  a  tyrant,  that  he  was 
one  who  governed  for  his  own  good,  and 
not  that  of  the  people,  because  it  would 
apply  to  every  prince,  all  reigning  for  their 
own  good.  The  philosopher,  alarmed  by 
this  demand,  altered  his  definition,  which 
was  to  run  thus,  that  tyrants  were  certain 
persons  of  old  time,  whose  race  was  now 
quite  extinct. f  Boccalini,  however,  takes 
care,  in  general,  to  mix  something  of  play- 
fulness with  his  satire,  so  that  it  could 
not  be  resented  without  apparent  ill-na- 
ture. It  seems,  indeed,  to  us  free  from 
invective,  and  rather  meant  to  sting  than 
to  wound.  But  this,  if  a  common  rumour 
be  true,  did  not  secure  him  against  a  beat- 
ing of  which  he  died.  The  style  of  Boc- 
calini is  said  by  the  critics  to  be  clear  and 
fluent  rather  than  correct  or  elegant ;  and 
he  displays  the  taste  of  his  times  by  ex- 
travagant metaphors.  But  to  foreigners, 
who  regard  this  less,  his  News  from  Par- 
nassus, unequal,  of  course,  and  occasion- 
ally tedious,  must  appear  to  contain  many 
ingenious  allusions,  judicious  criticisms, 
and  acute  remarks. 

6.  The  Pietra  del  Paragone,  by  the  same 
author,  is  an  odd,  and  rather  His  Pietra 
awkward  mixture  of  reality  del  Paragone. 
and  fiction,  all  levelled  at  the  court  of 
Spain,  and  designed  to  keep  alive  a  jeal- 
ousy of  its  ambition.  It  is  a  kind  of  epi- 
sode or  supplement  to  the  Ragguagli  di 
Parnaso,  the  leading  invention  being  pre- 
served. Boccalini  is  an  interesting  wri- 
ter, on  account  of  the  light  he  throws  on 
the  history  and  sentiments  of  Italy.  He 
is  in  this  work  a  still  bolder  writer  than 
in  the  former;  not  only  censuring  Spain 
without  mercy,  but  even  the  Venetian 
aristocracy,  observing  upon  the  insolence 
of  the  young  nobles  towards  the  citizens, 
though  he  justifies  the  senate  for  not  pun- 


t  Id.,  76. 


FROM  1000  TO  1650. 


221 


ishing  the  former  more  frequently  with 
death  by  public  execution,  which  would 
lower  the  nobility  in  the  eyes  of  the  peo- 
ple. They  were,  however,  he  says,  as 
severely  punished,  when  their  conduct 
was  bad,  by  exclusion  from  offices  of  trust. 
The  Pietr.a  del  Paragone  is  a  kind  of  po- 
litical, as  the  Ragguagli  is  a  critical  mis- 
cellany. 

7.  About  twenty  years  after  Boccalini, 
Ferrame       a  young  man  appeared,  by  name 

>  Paiiavicino  Ferrante  Pallavicino,  who,  with 
a  fame  more  local  and  transitory,  with  less 
respectability  of  character,  and  probably 
with  inferior  talents,  trod,  ,to  a  certain  de- 
gree, in  his  steps.  As  Spain  had  been 
the  object  of  satire  to  the  one,  so  was 
Rome  to  the  other.  Urban  VIII.,  an  am- 
bitious pontiff,  and  vulnerable  in  several 
respects,  was  attacked  by  an  imprudent 
and  self-confident  enemy,  safe,  as  he  ima- 
gined, under  the  shield  of  Venice.  But 
Pallavicino,  having  been  trepanned  into 
the  power  of  the  pope,  lost  his  head  at 
Avignon.  None  of  his  writings  have  fall- 
en in  my  way ;  that  most  celebrated  at 
the  time,  and  not  wholly  dissimiiar  in  the 
conception  to  the  News  from  Parnassus, 
was  entitled  The  Courier  Robbed  ;  a  series 
of  imaginary  letters  which  such  a  fiction 
gave  him  a  pretext  for  bringing  together. 
Perhaps  we  may  consider  Pallavicino  as 
rather  a  counterpart  to  Jordano  Bruno,  in 
(he  satirical  character  of  the  latter,  than 
to  Boccalini.* 

8.  The   Italian  language  itself,  gram- 
Dictionary      matically  considered,  was  still 
Delia crusca.  assiduously    cultivated.      The 
Academicians  of  Florence  published  the 
first  edition  of  their  celebrated  Vocabola- 
rio  della  Crusca  in  1613.     It  was  avowed- 
ly founded  on  Tuscan  principles,  setting 
up  the  fourteenth  century  as  the  Augustan 
period  of  the  language,  which  they  dis- 
dained to  call  Italian  ;  and,  though  not  ab- 
solutely excluding  the  great  writers  of  the 
sixteenth   age   whom   Tuscany   had   not 
produced,  giving,  in   general,  a  manifest 
preference  to  their  own.     Italy  has  re- 
belled against  this  tyranny  of  Florence, 
as  she  did,  in  the  Social  War,  against  that 
of  Rome.     Her  Lombard,  and  Romagnol, 
and  Neapolitan  writers  have  claimed  the 
rights  of  equal  citizenship,  and  fairly  won 
them  in  the  field  of  literature.     The  Vo- 
cabulary itself  was  not  received  as  a  le- 
gislative code.     Beni  assailed  it  by  his 
Anti-Crusca  the  same  year :  many  invidi- 
ously published  marginal  notes  to  point 
out  the  inaccuracies  ;  and,  in  the  frequent 
revisions  and  enlargements  of  this  dic- 


*  Corniani,  viii.,  205.    Salfi,  xiv.,  46. 


tionary,  the  exclusive  character  it  affected 
has,  I  believe,  been  nearly  lost. 

9.  Buonmattei,   himself  a   Florentine, 
was  the  first  who  completed  an 
extensive  and  methodical  gram-  ea?wwk£ 
mar,  "  developing,"  says  Tira-  Buo»maiiei. 
boschi,    "  the    whole    economy  Bartoli- 
and   system  of  our  language."     It  was 
published  entire,  after  some  previous  im- 
pressions of  parts,  with   the    title    Delia 
Lingua  Toscana,  in  1643.     This  has  been 
reckoned   a  standard  work,  both  for  its 
authority,  and  for  the  clearness,  precision, 
and  elegance  with  which  it  is  written  ;  but 
it  betrays  something  of  an  academical  and 
Florentine  spirit  in  the  rigour  of  its  gram- 
matical, criticism.*     Bartoli.  a  Fcrrarese 
Jesuit,  and  a  man  of  extensive  learning, 
attacked  that  dogmatic  school,  who  were 
accustomed  to  proscribe  common  phrases 
with  a  Non  si  pud  (It  cannot  be  used),  in  a 
treatise  entitled  II  torto  ed  il  diritto  del 
Non  si  pud.     His  object  was  to  justify 
many    expressions,   thus    authoritatively 
condemned,  by  the  examples  of  the  best 
writers.    This  book  was  a  little  later  than 
the  middle  of  the  century. f 

10.  Petrarch  had  been  the  idol,  in  gen- 
eral, of  the  preceding  age  :  and,  Tassoni-srp. 
above  all,  he  was  the  peculiar  marksonPe- 
divinity  of  the  Florentines.    But  trarcil- 
this  seventeenth  century  was,  in  the  pro- 
ductions of  the  mind,  a  period  of  revolu- 
tionary innovation  ;    men  dared    to   ask 
why,  as  well  as  what,  they  ought  to  wor- 
ship ;  and  sometimes  the  same  who  re- 
belled against    Aristotle   as  an   infallible 
guide,  were  equally  contumacious  in  deal- 
ing with  the  great  names  of  literature. 
Tassoni   published  in  1C09  his  Observa- 
tions on  the  Poems  of  Petrarch.     They 
are  not  written,  as  we  should  now  think, 
adversely  to  one  whom  he  professes  to 
honour  above  all  lyric  poets  in  the  world  ; 
and,  though  his  critical  remarks  are  some- 
what minute,  they  seem  hardly  unfair.     A 
writer  like  Petrarch,  whose  fame  has  been 
raised    so    high    by   his   style,   is   surely 
amenable  to  this  severity  of  examination. 
The  finest  sonnets  Tassoni  generally  ex- 
tols, but  gives  a  preference,  on  the  whole, 
to  the  odes  ;  which,  even  if  an  erroneous 
judgment,  cannot  be  called  unfair  upon 
the  author  of  both.J     He  produces  many 
parallel  passages  from   the  Latin  poems 
of  Petrarch  himself,  as  well  as  from  the 
ancients,  and  from  the  earlier  Italians  and 


*  Tiraboschi,  xi.,  409.     Salfi,  xiii.,  398. 

t  Corniani,  vii.,  250.     Salfi,  xiii.,  417. 

j  Tutte  Ic  rime,  tutti  i  versi  in  Renrralo  <!el  Pe- 
trarca  lo  fecero  poeta  ;  ma  le  canzoni,  per  quanto  a 
mi  tie  pare,  furono  quelle,  che  poeta  grande  e  famo- 
BO  lo  fecero,  p.  46. 


222 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


Provencals.  The  manner  of  Tassoni  is 
often  humorous,  original,  intrepid,  satiri- 
cal on  his  own  times  ;  he  was  a  man  of 
real  taste,  and  no  servile  worshipper  of 
names. 

11.  Galileo  was  less  just  in  his  obser- 
Gaiiieo-s  re-  vations  upon  Tasso.     They  are 
marks  on      written  with  severity,  and  some- 
Tasso.         times  an  insulting  tone  towards 
the  great  poet,  passing  over,  generally, 
the    most    beautiful    verses,    though    he 
sometimes  bestows  praise.     The  object 
is  to  point  out  the  imitations  of  Tasso 
from  Ariosto,  and  his  general  inferiority. 
Sforz:i  Paiia-  The  Observations  on  the  Art  of 
vicino;         Writing  by  Pallavicino,  the  his- 
torian of  the  Council  of  Trent,  published 
at  Rome  in  1646,  is  a  work  of  general  criti- 
cism,   containing    many    good    remarks. 
What  he  says  of  imitation  is  worthy  of 
being  compared   with  Kurd;   though  he 
will  be  found  not  to  have  analyzed  the 
subject  with  anything  like  so  much  acute- 
ness,  nor  was  this  to  be  expected  in  his 
age.     Pallavicino   has   an   ingenious    re- 
mark, that  elegance  of  style  is  produced 
by  short  metaphors,  or  metaforctte,  as  he 
calls  them,  which  give  us  a  more  lively 
apprehension  of  an  object  than  its  proper 
name.     This  seems  to  mean  only  single 
words  in  a  figurative  sense,  as  opposed  to 
phrases  of  the  same  kind.     He  writes  in 
a  pleasing  manner,  and  is  an  accomplish- 
ed critic  without  pedantry.    Salfi  has  given 
rather  a  long  analysis  of  this  treatise.* 
The  same  writer,  treading  in  the  steps 
of  Corni'ini,   has   extolled   some   Italian 
critics  of  this  period  whose  writings  I 
nnd  other  have  nevi.T  seen  :  .'Boni,  author  of 
critical      a  prolix  commentary  in  Latin  on 
wr.ters.     the   poetjcs  of  Aristotle ;    Pere- 
grino,  not  inferior,  perhaps,  to  Pallavici- 
no, though   less  known,  whose  theories 
are   just    and    deep,  but   not    expressed 
with  sufficient  perspicuity ;    and  Fioretti, 
who  assumed  the  fictitious  name  of  Ude- 
no  Nisieli,  and  presided  over  an  academy 
at    Florence    denominated   the   Apatisti. 
The  Progymnasmi  Poetici  of  this  writer, 
if  we  may  believe  Salfi,  ascend  to  that 
higher  theory  of  criticism  which  deduces 
its  rules,  not  from  precedents  or  arbitrary 
laws,  but  from  the  nature  of  the  human 
mind,  and  has,  in  modern  times,  been  dis- 
tinguished by  the  name  of  aesthetic. f 

12.  In  the  same  class  of  polite  letters 
Proiusiones  as  these  Italian  writings,  we  may 
of  strada.     place  the  Proiusiones  Academicae 
of  Famianus  Strada.    They  are  agreeably 
written,  and  bespeak  a  cultivated  taste". 


The  best  is  the  sixth  of  the  second  book, 
containing  the  imitations  of  six  Latin  po- 
ets, which  Addison  has  made  well  known 
(us  I  hope)  to  every  reader,  in  the  115th 
and  lliJth  numbers  of  the  Guardian.  It 
is  here  that  all  may  judge  of  this  happy 
and  graceful  fiction ;  but  those  who  have 
read  the  Latin  imitations  themselves  will 
perceive  that  Strada  has  often  caught  the 
tone  of  the  ancients  with  considerable  fe- 
licity. Lucan  and  Ovid  are,  perhaps,  best 
counterfeited ;  Virgil  not  quite  so  well ; 
and  Lucretius  worst  of  the  six.  The  oth- 
er two  are  Statius  and  Claudian.*  In  al- 
most every  instance,  the  subject  chosen 
is  appropriated  to  the  characteristic  pecu- 
liarities of  the  poet. 

13.  The   style   of  Gongora,  which  de- 
formed the  poetry  of  Spain,  ex-  Spanish 
tended   its   influence   over  prose,  prose. 
A  writer  named  Gracian  (it  seems  Grac'mn- 
to  be  doubtful  which  of  two  brothers,  Lo- 
renzo  and   Balthazar)  excelled  Gongora 
himself  in  the  affectation,  the  refinement, 
the  obscurity  of  his  style.     "  The  most 
voluminous  of  his  works,"  says  Bouter- 
wek,  "  bears  the  affected  title  of  El  Criti- 
con.     It  is  an  allegorical  picture  of  the 
whole  course  of  human  life,  divided  into 
Crises,  that  is,  sections  according  to  fixed 
points  of  view,  and  clothed  in  the  formal 
garb  of  a  pompous  romance.    It  is  scarce- 
ly possible  to  open  any  page  of  this  book 
without  recognising  in  the  author  a  man 
who  is  in  many  respects  far  from  com- 
mon, but  who,  from  the  ambition  of  being 
entirely  uncommon  in  thinking  and  wri- 
ting  studiously   and   ingeniously,  avoids 
nature  and  good  taste.     A  profusion  of 
the  most  ambiguous  subtleties,  expressed 
in    ostentatious   language,  are   scattered 
throughout  the  work  ;  and  these  are  the 
more  offensive,  in  consequence  of  their 
union  with  the  really  grand  view  of  the 
relationship  of   man  to  nature   and    his 
Creator,  which  forms  the  subject  of  the 
treatise.     Gracian  would   have   been  an 
.excellent  writer  had  he  not  so  anxiously 
wished  to  be  an  extraordinary  one."* 

14.  The  writings  of  Gracian  seem  in 
general  to  be   the   quintessence  of  bad 
taste.     The  worst  of  all,  probably,  is  El 
Eroe,  which  is  admitted  to  be  almost  un- 
intelligible by  the  number  of  far-fetched 
expressions,  though  there  is  more  than 
one  French  translation  of  it.     El  politico 
Fernando,  a  panegyric  on  Ferdinand  the 
Catholic,  seems  as  empty  as  it  is  affected 
and  artificial.    The  style  of  Gracian  is  al- 


*  Vol.  xiii.,  p.  440. 

t  Corniani,  vii.,  156.     Salfi,  xiii.,  426. 


*  A  writer  quoted  in  Blount's  Censura  Autorum, 
p.  859,  praises  the  imitation  of  Claudian  above  the 
rest,  but  thinks  all  excellent. 

t  Hist,  of  Spanish  Literature,  p.  533. 


FROM  1600  TO  1650. 


223 


ways  pointed,  emphatic,  full  of  that  which 
looks  like  profundity  or  novelty,  though 
neither  deep  nor  new.  He  seems  tp  have 
written  on  a  maxim  he  recommends  to 
the  man  of  the  world  ;  "  if  he  desires  that 
all  should  look  up  to  him,  let  him  permit 
himself  to  be  known,  but  not  to  be  under- 
stood."* His  treatise  entitled  Agudeza  y 
arte  di  ingenio  is  a  system  of  concetti, 
digested  under  their  different  heads,  and 
selected  from  Latin,  Italian,  and  Spanish* 
writers  of  that  and  the  preceding  age.  It 
is  said  in  the  Biographic  Universelle  that 
this  work,  though  too  metaphysical,  is 
useful  in  the  critical  history  of  literature. 
Gracian  obtained  a  certain  degree  of  popu- 
larity in  France  and  England. 

15.  The  general  taste  of  French  writers 
French  prose,  in  the  sixteenth  century,  as  we 
DU  vuir.  have  seen,  was  simple  and  live- 
ly, full  of  sallies  of  natural  wit,  and  a  cer- 
tain archness  of  observation,  but  deficient 
in  those  higher  qualities  of  language  which 
the  study  of  the  ancients  had  taught  men 
to  admire.  In  public  harangues,  in  plead- 
ings, and  in  sermons,  these  characteristics 
of  the  French  manner  were  either  intro- 
duced out  of  place,  or  gave  way  to  a  tire- 
some pedantry.  Du  Vair  was  the  first 
who  endeavoured  to  bring  in  a  more  elab- 
orate and  elevated  diction.  Nor  was  this 
confined  to  the  example  he  gave.  In  1607 
he  published  a  treatise  on  French  elo- 
quence, and  on  the  causes  through  which  it 
had  remained  at  so  low  a  point.  This  work 
relates  chiefly  to  the  eloquence  of  the  bar, 
or,  at  least,  that  of  public  speakers,  and 
the  causes  which  he  traces  are  chiefly 
such  as  would  operate  on  that  kind  alone. 
But  some  of  his  observations  are  applica- 
ble to  style  in  the  proper  sense  ;  and  his 
treatise  has  been  reckoned  the  first  which 
gave  France  the  rules  of  good  writing,  and 
the  desire  to  practise  them.f  A  modern 
critic,  who  censures  the  Latinisms  of  Du 
Vair's  style,  admits  that  his  treatise  on 
eloquence  makes  an  epoch  in  the  lan- 
guage.:}: 

1G.  A  more  distinguished  cera,  however. 
is  dated  from  1625,  when  the  letters 
of  Balzac  were  published.  $  There 


c' 


*  Si  quiere  que  le  vencren  todos,  permitase  al 
conocimiento,  no  a  la  comprehension. 

t  Gibert,  Jugemens  des  Savans  s\ir  les  autcurs 
<jui  ont  traile  de  la  rhetorique.  This  work  is  an- 
nexed to  some  editions  of  Baillet.  Goujet  has 
copied  or  abridged  Gibert  without  distinct  acknowl- 
edgment, and  not  always  carefully  preserving  the 
sense. 

t  Neufchateau,  preface  aux  OZuvres  de  Pascal, 
p.  181. 

§  The  same  writer  fixes  on  this  as  an  epoch,  and 
it  was  generally  admitted  in  the  seventeenth  cen- 
tury. The  editor  of  Balzac's  works  in  1665,  says, 


had,  indeed,  been  a  few  intermediate 
works,  which  contributed,  though  now 
little  known,  to  the  improvement  of  the 
language.  Among  these,  the  translation 
of  Florus  by  Coeffeteau  was  reckoned  a 
masterpiece  of  French  style,  and  Vaugelas 
refers  more  frequently  to  this  than  to  any 
other  book.  The  French  were  very  strong 
in  translations  from  the  classical  writers ; 
and  to  this  they  are  certainly  much  in- 
debted for  the  purity  and  correctness  they 
reached  in  their  own  language.  These 
translators,  however,  could  only  occupy  a 
secondary  place.  Balzac  himself  is  hardly 
read.  "  The  polite  world,"  it  was  said  a 
hundred  years  since,  "  knows  nothing  now 
of  these  works,  which  were  once  its  de- 
light."* But  his  writings  arc  Character  of 

not  formed  to  delight  those  who  his  writings. 


after  speaking  of  the  unformed  state  of  the  French 
language,  full  of  provincial  idioms  and  incorrect 
phrases:  M.  de  Balzac  est  vcnu  en  ce  temps  de 
confusion  et  de  desordre,  oil  toutes  les  lectures  qu'il 
faisoit,  et  toutes  les  actions  qu'il  cntendoit  lui  de- 
voient  elre  suspectes,  ou  il  avoit  a  se  defter  de  tous 
It's  niaitres  et  de  tous  les  exemples;  et  ou  il  ne 
pouvoit  arriver  a  son  but  qu'en  s'cloignant  de  tous 
les  chemins  bait  us,  ni  marcher  dans  la  bonne  route 
qu'apres  se  1'etre  ouvcrte  a  lui  meme.  11 1'a  ouverte 
en  effet,  et  pour  lui  et  pour  les  autres;  il  y  a  fait 
entrer  i:n  grand  nombre  d'heureux  genies,  dont  il 
etoit  IH  guide  et  le  modele  :  et  si  la  France  voit 
aujourd'hui  que  ses  ecrivains  sont  plus  polis  et  plus 
reguliers,  que  ceux  d'Espagne  et  d'ltalie,  il  faut 
qu'elle  en  rende  1'honneur  u  ce  grand  homme,  dont 
la  memoire  lui  doit  etre  en  veneration.  ...  La 
meme  obligation  que  nous  avons  a  M.  de  Malherbe 
p-nir  la  poesie,  nous  1'avons  a  M.  de  Balzac  pour  la 
prose  ;  il  lui  a  prescrit  des  homes  et  des  rfegjes ;  il 
lui  a  donne  de  la  douceur  et  de  la  force,  il  a  montre 
que  1'eloquence  doit  avoir  des  nccord.s.  anssi  him 
que  la  musique,  et  il  a  sc.u  meler  si  adroitement 
cette  diversite  de  sons  et  de  cadences,  qu'il  n'est 
point  de  plus  delicieux  concert  que  ciilui  de  ses 
paroles.  C'est  en  p!a<;ant  tous  les  mots  avec  tant 
d'ordre  et  de  justesse  qu'il  ne  laisse  rien  de  mol  ni 
de  foiblo  dans  son  discours,  &c.  This  regard  to 
the  cadence  of  his  periods  is  characteristic  of  Bal- 
zac It  has  not,  in  general,  been  much  practised 
in  France,  notwithstanding  some  splendid  excep- 
tions, especially  in  Bossuct.  Olivet  observes,  that 
it  was  the  peculiar  glory  of  Balzac  to  have  shown 
the  capacity  of  the  language  for  this  rhythm. — Hist, 
de  1'Acad.  Franchise,  p.  84.  But  has  not  Du  Vair 
some  clain.  also '!  Neufchateau  gives  a  much  more 
limited  eulogy  of  Balzac.  11  avoit  pris  fi  la  lettre 
les  reflections  de  Du  Vair  snr  la  trop  grande  bas- 
aesse  de  notre  eloquence.  11  s'en  forma  line  haute 
idee  ;  mais  il  se  trornpe  d'abord  dans  1'application, 
car  il  porta  dans  le  style  epistolaire  qm  doit  etre 
farniher  et  leger,  1'enfltire  hyperbolique,  la  pompe, 
et  le  nombre,  qui  ne  eonvjent  qu'aux  grandes  dec- 
l.ii.i .it  ions  et  aux  harangues  oratoires.  ..  .  Ce 
delaut  do  Balzac  contribua  peut-etre  a  son  succes  ; 
car  le  gout  n'etoit  pas  forme ;  mais  il  se  corrigea 
dans  la  suite,  et  en  parcourant  son  recueil  on  s'aper- 
goit  des  pvogres  sensiblus  qu'il  faisoit  avec  1'age. 
Ce  recueil  si  precieux  pour  1'histoire  rie  notre  littcr- 
ature  a  eu  long  temps  une  vogue  extraordinaire. 
Nos  plus  grands  auteurs  1'avoient  bien  eludie. 
Moliere  lui  a  emprunte  quelques  id6es. 
*  Goujet,  i.,  426. 


224 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


wish  either  to  be  merry  or  wise,  to  laugh 
or  to  learn ;  yet  he  has  real  excellences, 
besides  those  which  may  be  deemed  rela- 
tive to  the  age  in  which  he  came.  His 
language  is  polished ;  his  sentiments  are 
just,  but  sometimes  common;  the  cadence 
of  his  periods  is  harmonious,  but  too  arti- 
ficial and  uniform ;  on  the  whole,  he  ap- 
proaches to  the  tone  of  a  languid  sermon, 
and  leaves  a  tendency  to  yawn.  But  in 
his  time  superficial  truths  were  not  so 
much  proscribed  as  at  present ,  the  same 
want  of  depth  belongs  to  almost  all  the 
moralists  in  Italian  and  in  modern  Latin. 
Balzac  is  a  moralist  with  a  pure  heart, 
and  a  love  of  truth  and  virtue,  somewhat 
alloyed  by  the  spirit  of  flattery  towards 
persons,  however  he  may  declaim  about 
courts  and  courtiers  in  general,  a  compe- 
tent erudition,  and  a  good  deal  of  observa- 
tion of  the  world.  In  his  Aristippe,  ad- 
dressed to  Christina,  and,  consequently,  a 
late  work,  he  deals  much  in  political  pre- 
cepts and  remarks,  some  of  wln'ch  might 
be  read  with  advantage.  But  he  was  ac- 
cused of  borrowing  his  thoughts  from  the 
ancients,  which  the  author  of  an  Apology 
for  Balzac  seems  not  wholly  to  deny. 
This  apology,  indeed,  had  been  produced 
by  a  book  on  the  Conformity  of  the  elo- 
quence of  M.  Balzac  with  that  of  the  an- 
cients. 

17.  The  letters  of  Balzac  are  in  twenty- 

seven  books;  they  begin  in  1620, 
's-  and  end  about  1653,  the  first  por- 
*  tion  having  appeared  in  1625.  "  He  passed 
all  his  life,"  says  Vigneul-Marville,  "  in 
writing  letters,  without  ever  catching  the 
right  characteristics  of  that  style."*  This 
demands  a  peculiar  ease  and  naturalness  of 
expression,  for  want  of  which  they  seem 
no  genuine  exponents  of  friendship  or  gal- 
lantry, and  hardly  of  polite  manners.  His 
wit  was  not  free  from  pedantry,  and  did 
not  come  from  him  spontaneously.  Hence 
he  was  little  fitted  to  address  ladies,  even 
the  Rambouillets  ;  and,  indeed,  he  had  ac- 
quired so  laboured  and  artificial  a  way  of 
writing  letters,  that  even  those  to  his" sis- 
ter, though  affectionate,  smell  too  much  of 
the  lamp.  His  advocates  admit  that  they 
are  to  be  judged  rather  by  the  rules  of 
oratorical  than  epistolary  composition. 

18.  In  the  moral  dissertations,  such  as 
that  entitled   the    Prince,  this   elaborate 
manner  is,  of  course,  not  less  discernible, 
but  not  so  unpleasant  or  out  of  place. 

*  Melanges  de  Literature,  vol.  i.,  p.  126.  He 
adds,  however,  that  Balzac  had  "un  talent  particu- 
lier  pourembellir  notre  langue."  The  writer  whom 
1  quote  under  the  name  of  Vigneul-Marville,  which 
he  assumed,  was  D'Argonne,  a  Benedictine  of 
Rouen. 


Balzac  has  been  called  the  father  of  the 
French  language,  the  master  and  model  of 
the  great  men  who  have  followed  him. 
But  it  Is  confessed  by  all  that  he  wanted 
the  fine  taste  to  regulate  his  style  accord- 
ing to  the  subject.  Hence  he  is  pompous 
and  inflated  upon  ordinary  topics;  and  in 
a  country  so  quick  to  seize  the  ridiculous 
as  his  own,  not  all  his  nobleness,  purity, 
and  vigour  of  style,  not  the  passages  of 
eloquence  which  we  often  find,  have  been 
sufficient  to  redeem  him  from  the  sar- 
casms of  those  who  have  had  more  power 
to  amuse.  The  stateliness,  however,  of 
Balzac  is  less  offensive  and  extravagant 
than  the  affected  intensity  of  language 
which  distinguishes  the  style  of  the  pres- 
ent age  on  both  sides  of  the  Channel,  and 
which  is,  in  fact,  a  much  worse  modifica- 
tion of  the  same  fault. 

ID.  A  contemporary  and  rival  of  Balzac, 
though  very  unlike  in  most  re-  Voiture 
spects,  was  Voiture.  Bolh  one  Hotel  Ram 
and  the  other  were  received  with  bouillet- 
friendship  and  admiration  in  a  celebrated 
society  of  Paris,  the  first,  which,  on  thia 
side  of  the  Alps,  united  the  aristocracy  of 
rank  and  of  genius  in  one  circle,  that 
of  the  Hotel  Rambouillet.  Catharine  de 
Vivonne,  widow  of  the  Marquis  de  Ram- 
bouillet, was  the  owner  of  this  mansion. 
It  was  frequented,  during  the  long  period 
of  her  life,  by  all  that  was  distinguished  in 
France;  by  Richelieu  and  Conde,  as  much 
as  by  Corneille,  and  a  long  host  of  inferior 
men  of  letters.  The  heiress  of  this  family, 
Julie  d'Angennes,  beautiful  and  highly  ac 
complished,  became  the  central  star  of  so 
bright  a  galaxy.  The  love  of  intellectual 
attainments,  both  in  mother  and  daughter, 
the  sympathy  and  friendship  they  felt  for 
those  who  displayed  them,  as  well  aa 
their  moral  worth,  must  render  their  names 
respectable  ;  but  these  were  in  sonje  meas- 
ure sullied  by  false  taste,  and  what  we 
may  consider  an  habitual  affectation  even 
in  their  conduct.  We  can  scarcely  give 
another  name  to  the  caprice  of  Julia,  who, 
in  the  fashion  of  romance,  compelled  the 
Duke  of  Montausier  to  carry  on  a  twelve 
years'  courtship,  and  only  married  him  in 
the  decline  of  her  beauty.  This  patient 
lover,  himself  one  of  the  most  remarkable 
men  in  the  court  of  Louis  XIV.,  had  many 
years  before  presented  her  with  what  has 
been  called  The  Garland  of  Julia,  a  col- 
lection to  which  the  poets  and  wits  of 
Paris  had  contributed.  Every  flower,  rep- 
resented in  a  drawing,  had  its  appropriate 
little  poem,  and  all  conspired  to  the  praise 
of  Julia. 

20.  Voiture  is  chiefly  known  by  his  let- 
ters ;  his  other  writings,  at  least,  are  in- 


FROM  1600  TO  1650. 


225 


ferior.  These  begin  about  1G27,  and  are 
addressed  to  Madame  de  Rambouillet,  and 
to  several  other  persons  of  both  sexes. 
Though  much  too  laboured  and  affected, 
they  are  evidently  the  original  type  of  the 
French  epistolary  school,  including  those 
in  England  who  formed  themselves  upon 
it.  Pope  very  frequently  imitated  Voiture  ; 
Walpole  not  so  much  in  his  general  cor- 
respondence, but  he  knew  how  to  fall  into 
it.  The  object  was  to  say  what  meant 
little  with  the  utmost  novelty  in  the  mode, 
and  with  the  most  ingenious  compliment 
to  the  person  addressed  ;  so  that  he  should 
admire  himself  and  admire  the  writer. 
They  are,  of  course,  very  tiresome  after  a 
short  time ;  yet  their  ingenuity  is  not 
without  merit.  Balzac  is  more  solemn 
and  dignified,  and  it  must  be  owned  that 
he  has  more  meaning.  Voiture  seems  to 
have  fancied  that  good  sense  spoils  a  man 
of  wit.  But  he  has  not  so  much  wit  as 
esprit ;  and  his  letters  serve  to  exemplify 
the  meaning  of  that  word.  Pope,  in  ad- 
dressing ladies,  was  nearly  the  ape  of 
Voiture.  It  was,  unfortunately,  thought 
necessary,  in  sucn  a  correspondence,  ei- 
ther to  affect  despairing  love,  which  was 
to  express  itself  with  all  possible  gayety, 
or,  where  love  was  too  presumptuous,  as 
with  the  Rambouillets,  to  pour  out  a  tor- 
rent of  nonsensical  flattery,  which  was  to 
be  rendered  tolerable  by  far-fetched  turns 
of  thought.  Voiture  has  the  honour  of 
having  rendered  this  style  fashionable. 
But  if  the  b;ul  taste  of  others  had  not  per- 
verted his  own,  Voiture  would  have  been 
a  good  \vriter.  His  letters,  especially 
those  written  from  Spain,  are  sometimes 
truly  witty,  and  always  vivacious.  Vol- 
taire, who  speaks  contemptuously  of  Voi- 
ture, might  have  been  glad  to  have  been 
the  author  of  some  of  his  jeux  d'esprit ; 
that,  for  example,  addressed  to  the  Prince 
of  Conde  in  the  character  of  a  pike,  found- 
ed on  a  gaire  where  the  prince  had  played 
that  fish.  We  should  remember,  also,  that 
Voiture  held  his  place  in  good  society 
upon  the  tacit  condition  that  he  should  al- 
ways strive  to  be  witty.* 

21.  But  the  Hotel  Rambouillet,  with  its 
false  theories  of  taste,  derived,  in 
memborSthea  great  measure,  from  the  ro- 
Frcnch  manccs  of  Scudery  and  Calpre- 
Aciuiemy.  nctjCj  ancj  encouraged  by  the 
agreeably  artificial  manner  of  Voiture, 

*  Nothing,  says  Olivet,  could  be  more  opposite 
than  Balzac  and  Voiture.  L'un  se  porcoit  toujours 
au  sublime,  I'autre  toujours  au  delicat.  L'un  avoit 
une  imagination  enjouee,  qui  faisoit  prendre  a  toutes 
ses  pensees  un  air  de  gallanterie.  L'un  meme 
lorsqu'il  vouloit  plaisanter,  etoit  toujours  grave; 
I'autre,  dans  les  occasions  meme  serieuses,,trouvoit 
a  rire.— Hist,  de  1'Academie,  p.  83. 
VOL.  II.— F  F 


would  have  produced,  in  all  probability, 
but  a  transient  effect.  A  far  more  impor- 
tant event  was  the  establishment  of  the 
French  Academy.  France  was  ruled  by  a 
great  minister,  who  loved  her  glory  and 
his  own.  This,  indeed,  has  been  common 
lo  many  statesmen,  but  it  was  a  more  pe- 
culiar honour  to  Richelieu,  that  he  felt  the 
dignity  which  letters  confer  on  a  nation. 
He  was  himself  not  deficient  in  literary 
taste ;  his  epistolary  style  is  manly,  and 
not  without  elegance  ;  he  wrote  theology 
in  his  own  name,  and  history  in  that  of 
Mezeray  ;  but,  wbat  is  most  to  the  present 
purpose,  his  remarkable  fondness  for  the 
theatre  led  him  not  only  to  invent  subjects 
for  other  poets,  but,  as  it  has  been  be- 
lieved, to  compose  one  forgotten  tragi- 
comedy^Mirame,  without  assistance.*  He 
availed  himself,  fortunately,  of  an  oppor- 
tunity which  almost  every  statesman 
would  have  disregarded,  to  found  the  most 
illustrious  institution  in  the  annals  of  po- 
lite literature. 

22.  The  French  Academy  sprang  from 
a  private  society  of  men  of  letters  at  Par- 
is, who,  about  the  year  1G29,  agreed  to 
meet  once  a  week,  as  at  an  ordinary  visit, 
conversing  on  all  subjects,  and  especially 
on  literature.  Such  among  them  as  were 
authors  communicated  their  works,  and 
had  the  advantage  of  free  and  fair  criti- 
cism. This  continued  for  three  or  four 
years  with  such  harmony  and  mutual 
satisfaction,  that  the  old  men  who  remem- 
bered tins  period,  says  their  historian, 
Pelisson,  looked  back  upon  it  as  a  golden 
age.  They  were  but  nine  in  number,  of 
whom  Gombauld  and  Chapelain  are  the 
only  names  by  any  means  famous,  and 
their  meetings  were  at  first  very  private. 
More,  by  degrees,  were  added ;  among 
others,  Boisrobert,  a  favourite  of  Riche- 
lieu, who  liked  to  hear  from  him  the  news 
of  the  town.  The  cardinal,  pleased'Avith 
the  account  of  this  society,  suggested  their 
public  establishment.  This,  it  is  said,  was 
unplcasing  to  every  one  of  them,  and 
some  proposed  to  refuse  it;  but  the  con- 
sideration that  the  offers  of  such  a  man 
were  not  to  be  slighted  overpowered  their 
modesty,  and  they  consented  to  become  a 
royal  institution.  They  now  enlarged 
their  numbers,  created  officers,  and  began 
to  keep  registers  of  their  proceedings. 
Those  records  commence  on  March  13, 
103-1.  and  are  the  basis  of  PeHsson's  his- 
tory. The  name  of  French  Academy  was 
chosen  after  some  deliberation.  They 
were  established  by  letters  patent  in  Jan- 
uary, 1635  ;  which  the  Parliament  of  Paris 


Fontenelle,  Hist,  du  Theatre,  p.  96. 


226 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


enregistereJ  with  great  reluctance,  requi-  3 
ring  not  only  a  letter  from  Richelieu,  but 
an  express  order  from  the  king  ;  and  when 
this  was  completed,  in  July,  1637,  it  was 
with  a  singular  proviso  that  the  Academy  • 
should  me- Idle  with  nothing  but  the  em- 
bellishment and  improvement  of  the  French 
language,'  and  such   books   as   might   be 
written  by  themselves,  or  by  others  who 
should   desire   their  interference.      This 
learned  body  of  lawyers  had  some  jeal 
ousy  of  the  innovations  of  Richelieu  :  and 
one  of  them  said  it  reminded  him  of  the 
satire  of  Juvenal,  where  the  Senate,  after 
ceasing  to  bear  its  part  in  public  affairs, 
was  consulted  about  the  sauce  for  a  tur- 
bot.* 
23.  The  professed  object  of  the  Acade- 

iis  objects  my  was  to  Parify  the  language 
and  eonsti-  from  vulgar,  technical,  or  igrio- 
tution.  rant  usagCSj  and  to  establish  a 
fixed  standard.  The  Academicians  un- 
dertook to  guard  scrupulously  the  cor- 
rectness of  their  own  works,  examining 
the  arguments,  the  method,  the  style,  the 
structure  of  each  particular  word.  It  was 
proposed  by  one  that  they  should  swear 
not  to  use  any  word  which  had  been  re- 
jected by  a  plurality  of  votes.  They  soon 
began  to  labour  in  their  vocation,  always 
bringing  words  to  the  test  of  good  usage, 
and  deciding  accordingly.  These  decis- 
ions are  recorded  in  their  registers.  Their 
number  was  fixed  by  the  letters  patent  at 
forty,  having  a  director,  chancellor,  and 
secretary ;  the  two  former  changed  every 
two,  afterward  every  three  months  ;  the 
last  chosen  for  life.  They  read  discour- 
ses weekly  ;  which,  by  the  titles  of  some 
that  Pelisson  has  given  us,  seem  rather 
trifling,  and  in  the  style  of  the  Italian  acad- 
emies ;  but  this  practice  was  soon  disused. 
Their  more  important  and  ambitious  oc- 
cupations were  to  compile  a  dictionary 
and  a  grammar :  Chapelain  drew  up  the 
scheme  of  the  former,  in  which  it  was  de- 
termined, for  the  sake  of  brevity,  to  give 
no  quotations,  but  to  form  it  from  about 
twenty-six  good  authors  in  prose,  and 
twenty  in  verse.  Vaugelas  was  intrusted 
with  the  chief  direction  of  this  work.  " 

24.  The  Academy  was  subjected,  in  its 
it  publishes  vcr-v  infancy,  to  a  severe  trial  of 
a  critique  that  literary  integrity  without 
on  the  cid.  which  such  an  institution  can 
only  escape  from  being  pernicious  to  the 
republic  of  letters,  by  becoming  too  despi- 
cable and  odious  to  produce  mischief.  On 
the  appearance  of  the  Cid,  Richelieu,  who 
had  taken  up  a  strong  prejudice  against  it, 
insisted  that  the  Academy  should  publish 


*  Pelisson.  Hist,  de  1'Academie 


their  opinion  on  this  play.  The  more 
prudent  part  of  that  bod}'  were  very  loth 
to  declare  themselves  at  so  early  a  period 
of  theii  own  existence ;  but  the  cardinal 
was  not  apt  to  take  excuses ;  and  a  com- 
mittee of  three  was  appointed  to  examine 
the  Cid  itself,  and  the  observations  upon 
it  which  Scudery  had  already  published. 
Five  months  elapsed  before  the  Sentimens 
de  1*  Academic  Franeaise  sur  la  Tragedie 
du  Cid  were  made  public  in  November, 
1637.*  These  are  expressed  with  much 
respect  for  Corneille.  and  profess  to  be 
drawn  up  with  his  assent,  as  well  as  at  the 
instance  of  Scudery.  It  has  been  not  un- 
common to  treat  this  criticism  as  a  servile 
homage  to  power.  But  a  perusal  of  it 
will  not  lead  us  to  confirm  so  severe  a  re- 
proach. The  Sentimens  de  1'Academie 
are  drawn  up  with  great  good  sense  and 
dignity.  The  spirit,  indeed,  of  critical 
orthodoxy  is  apparent ;  yet  this  was  sure- 
ly pardonable  in  an  age  when  the  violation 
of  rules  had  as  yet  produced  nothing  but 
such  pieces  as  those  of  Hardy.  It  is  easy 
to  sneer  at  Aristotle  when  we  have  a 
Shakspeare;  but  Aristotle  formed  his  rules 
on  the  practice  of  Sophocles.  The  Acad- 
emy could  not  have  done  better  than  by 
inculcating  the  soundest  rules  of  criticism, 
but  they  were  a  little  too  narrow  in  their 
application.  The  particular  judgments 
which  they  pass  on  each  scene  of  the 
play,  as  well  as  those  on  the  style,  seem, 
for  the  most  part,  very  ju- 1.  and  such  as 
later  critics  have  generally  adopted  ;  so 
that  we  can  really  see  little  ground  for 
the  allegation  of  undue  compliance  with 
the  cardinal's  prejudices,  except  in  the  fri- 
gid tone  of  their  praise,  and  in  their  omis- 
sion to  proclaim  that  a  great  dramatic  ge- 
nius had  arisen  in  France.!  But  this  is 
so  much  the  common  vice  or  blindness  of 
critics,  that  it  ruay  have  sprung  less  from 
baseness  than  from  a  fear  to  compromise 
their  own  superiority  by  vulgar  admira- 


*  Pelisson.  The  printed  edition  bears  the  date 
of  1633. 

t  They  conclude  by  saying  that,  in  spite  of  the 
faults  of  this  piay,  la  naivete  et  la  vehemence  de 
!es  passions,  la  force  et  la'delicatesse  de  plusieurs 
de  ses  pensees,  et  cet  agrement  inexplicable  qui  se 
mele  dans  tons  ses  defauts  lui  ont  acquis  un  rang 
considerable  entre  les  poemes  Frarxjais  de  ce  genre 
qui  ont  le  plus  donn6  de  satisfaction.  Si  1'auteur 
ne  doit  pas  toute  sa  reputation  a  son  merite  il  ne 
la  doit  pas  toute  a  son  bonheur,  et  la  nature  lui  a 
ete  assez  liberate  pour  excuser  la  fortune  si  elle  lui 
a  ete  prodigue. 

The  Academy  justly,  in  my  opinion,  blame  Cor- 
neiile  for  making  Chimene  consent  to  marry  Rod- 
rigue  the  same  day  that  he  had  killed  her  father. 
Cela  surpasse  toute  sorte  de  creance,  et  ne  peut 
vraisemblablement  tomber  dans  1'ame  non  seule- 
menf  djune  sage  fille,  mais  d'une  qui  seroit  le  plus 
depouillee  d'honneur  et  d'humanite,  &c.,  p.  49. 


FROM  1COO  TO  1650. 


227 


non.  The  Academy  had  great  preten- 
sions, and  Corneille  was  not  yet  the  Cor- 
neille  of  France  and  of  the  world.  ., 

25.    Gibert,x  Goujet,  and   other  writers 
Vau-reias's    enumerate  several  works  on  the 
remarks  on  grammar  of  the  French  language 
the  French    ju  tnis  period.     But  they  were 
3ge'     superseded,  and  we  may  almost 
say  that  an  era  was  made  in  the  national 
literature,  by  the  publication  of  Vaugelas, 
Remarques  sur  la   Langue   Francaise,  in 
1649.     Thomas  Corneille,  who,  as  well  as 
Patru,  published  notes  on  Vaugelas,  ob- 
serves that  the  language  has  only  been 
written  with  politeness  since  the  appear- 
ance of  these  remarks.     They  were   not 
at  first  received  with  general  approbation, 
and   some   even  in  later  times  thought 
them  too  scrupulous  ;  but  they  gradually 
became  of  established  authority.  Vaugelas 
is  always  clear,  modest,  and  ingenuous  in 
stating  his  opinion.     His  remarks  are  547 
in  number,  no  gross  fault  being  noticed, 
nor  any  one  which  is  not  found  in  good 
authors.   He  seldom  mentions  those  whom 
he  censures.    His  test  of  correct  language 
is  the  manner  of  speaking  in  use  with  the 
best  part  (la  plus  sainc  partie)  of  the  court, 
conformably  with  the  manner  of  writing 
in  the  best  part  of  contemporary  authors. 
13 ut,  though  we   must  have   recourse  to 
good  authors  in  order  to  establish  an  in- 
disputably good  usage,  yet  the  court  con- 
tributes incomparably  more  than  books  ; 
the  consent  of  the  latter  being,  as  it  were, 
the  seal  and  confirmation  of  what  is  spo- 
ken at  court,  and  deciding  what  is  there 
doubtful.     And  those  who  study  the  best 
authors  get  rid  of  many  faults  common  at 
court,  and  acquire  a  peculiar  purity  of 
style.    None,  however,  can  dispense  with 
a  knowledge  of  what  is  reckoned   good 
language  at  court,  since  much  that  is  spo- 
ken there  will  hardly  be  found  in  books. 
In  writing  it  i»  otherwise  ;  and  he  admits 
that  the  study  of  good  authors  will  enable 
as  to  write  well,  though  we  shall  write 
still  better  by  knowing  how  to  speak  well. 
Vaugelas  tells  us  that  his  knowledge  was 
icquired  by  long  practice  at  court,  and  by 
;he  conversation  of  Cardinal  Perron  and 
)f  Ooeffeteau. 

26.  La  Mothe  le  Vayer,  in  his  Conside- 
:,a  Mothe  le  rations  sur  TEloquence  Fran- 
rayer.  caise,  1047,  has  endeavoured  to 
steer  a  middle  course  between  the  old  anc 
Jhe  new  school  of  French  style,  but  with 
a  marked  desire  to  withstand  the  latter 
He  blames  Du  Vair  for  the  strange  and 
barbarous  words  he  employs.  He  laughs 
also,  at  the  nicety  of  those  who  were  be 
ginning  to  object  to  a  number  of  common 
French  words.  One  would  not  use  the 


Disjunction  Car;  against  which  folly  Le 
Vayer  wrote  a  separate  treatise.*  He  de- 
"ends  the  use  of  quotations  in  a  different 
anguage,  which  some  purists  in  French 
style  had  in  horror.  But  this  treatise 
seems  not  to  contain  much  that  is  valua- 
ble, and  it  is  very  diffuse. 

-27.  Two  French  writers  may  be  reck- 
oned worthy  of  a  place  in  this  j^ 
hapter,  who  are,  from  the  nature  speeches 
of  their  works,  not  generally  of  1>alru 
uiown  out  of  their  own  country,  and 
whom  I  cannot  refer  with  absolute  pro- 
priety to  this  rather  than  to  the  ensu- 
ng  period,  except  by  a  certain  character 
and  manner  of  writing,  which  belongs 
more  to  the  antecedent  than  the  later 
moiety  of  the  seventeenth  century.  These 
were  two  lawyers,  Patru  and  Le  Maistre. 
I'he  pleadings  of  Patru  appear  to  me  ex- 
cellent in  their  particular  line  of  forensic 
eloquence,  addressed  to  intelligent  and 
experienced  judges.  They  greatly  re- 
semble what  are  called  the  private  ora- 
tions of  Demosthenes,  and  those  of  Ly- 
sias  and  Isajus,  especially,  perhaps,  the 
last.  No  ambitious  ornament,  no  appeal 
to  the  emotions  of  the  heart,  no  bold  fig- 
ures of  rhetoric  are  permitted  in  the  Attic 
severity  of  this  style  ;  or,  if  they  ever  oc- 
cur, it  is  to  surprise  us  as  things  rather 
uncommon  in  the  place  where  they  appear 
than  in  themselves.  Patru  does  not  even 
employ  the  exordium  usual  in  speeches, 
but  rushes  instantaneously,  though  al- 
ways perspicuously,  into  his  statement 
of  the  case.  In  the  eyes  of  many  this  is 
no  eloquence  at  all ;  and  it  requires,  per- 
haps, some  taste  for  legal  reasoning  to 
enter  fully  into  its  merit.  But  the  Greek 
orators  are  masters  whom  a  motlern  law- 
yer need  not  blush  to  follow,  and  to  fol- 
low, as  Patru  did,  in  their  respect  for  the 
tribunal  they  addressed.  They  spoke  to 
rather  a  numerous  body  of  judges ;  but 
those  were  Athenians,  and,  as  we  have 
reason  to  believe,  the  best  and  most  up- 
right, the  salt  of  that  vicious  city.  Patru 
again  spoke  to  the  Parliament  of  Paris ; 
men  too  well  versed  in  the  ways  of  law 
and  justice  to  be  the  dupes  of  tinkling 
sound.  He  is  therefore  plain,  lucid,  well 
arranged,  but  not  emphatic  or  impetuous ; 
the  subjects  of  his  published  speeches 
would  not  admit  of  such  qualities;  though 
Patru  is  said  to  have  employed  on  some 
occasions  the  burning  words  of  the  high- 
est oratory  His  style  has  always  been 
reckoned  purely  and  rigidly  French;  but 

*  This  was  Gomberville,  in  whose  immense  ro- 
mance, Polexandre,  it  is  said  that  this  word  only 
occurs  three  times ;  a  discovery  which  does  vast 
honour  to  the  person  who  took  the  pains  to  make  it. 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


I  have  been  led  rather  to  praise  what  has 
struck  me  in  the  substance  of  his  plead- 
ing^-, which,  whether  read  at  this  day  in 
France  or  not,  are,  I  may  venture  to  say, 
worthy  to  be  studied  by  lawyers,  like 
those  to  which  I  have  compared  them,  the 
strictly  forensic  portion  of  Greek  oratory. 
In  some  speeches  of  Patru  which  are 


gy,  rather  striking  to  the  common  hearer, 
than  likely  to  weigh  much  with  a  tribunal. 
He  has  less  simplicity,  less  purity  of  taste 
than  Patni ;  his  animated  language  would, 
in  our  courts,  be  frequently  effective  with 
a  jury,  but  would  seem  too  indefinite  and 
commonplace  to  the  judges ;  we  should 
crowd  to  hear  Le  Maistre,  we  should  be 


more  generally  praised — that  on  his  own  J  compelled  to  decide  with  Patru.  They 
reception  in  the  Academy,  and  one  corn- 1  are  both,  however,  very  superior  advo- 
plimentary  to  Christina — it  seemed  to  me  j  cates,  and  do  great  honour  to  the  French 
that  he  falls  very  short  of  his  judicial  bar. 


style  ;   the  ornaments  are  commonplace, 
and  such  as  belong  to  the  panegyrical  de- 
partment of  oratory,  in  all  ages  less  im- 
portant and  valuable  than  the  ottier  two. 
It  should  be  added,  that  Patru  was  not 
only  one  of  the  purest  writers,  but  one  of 
the  best  critics  which  France  possessed.* 
28.  The  forensic  speeches  of  Le  Mais- 
and  of  Le  tre  are  more  eloquent,  in  a  popu- 
Maistre.     \ar  sense  of  the  word,  more  ar- 
dent, more  imaginative,  than  those  of  Pa- 
tru; the  one  addresses  the  judges  alone,    that  are  unintelligible,  none  that 
the  other  has  a  view  to  the  audience  ;  the  ;  offence.     But  to  this  next  period  belong 
one  seeks  the  success  of  his  cause  alone,  j  most  of  those  whom  we  commonly  reckon, 
the  other  that  and  his  own  glory  together.  |  our  old  English  writers;  men  often  of 
The  one  will  be  more  prized  by  the  lov-  i  such  sterling  worth  for  their  sense,  that 
ers  of  legal  reasoning,  the  other  by  the  |  we  might  read  them  with  little  regard  to 
majority  of  mankind.     The  one  more  re-  i  their  language,  yet,  in  some  instances  at 
sembles  the  orations  of  Demosthenes  for  j  least,    possessing    much    that    demand? 
his  private  clients,  the  other  those  of  Ci-  i  praise  in  this  respect.     They  are  general 
cero.     Le  Maistre  is  fervid  and  brilliant ;  •  ly  nervous  and  effective,  copious  to  re 
he  hurries  us  with  him  ;  in  all  his  plead- ':  dundancy  in  their  command  of  words, 


'29.  A  sensible  improvement  in  the  gen- 
eral style  of  English  writers  had  improvement 
come  on  before  the  expiration  in  English 
of  the  sixteenth  century ;  the  slyle' 
rude  and  rough  phrases,  sometimes  re- 
quiring a  glossary,  which  lie  as  spots  of 
rust  on  the  pages  of  Latimer,  Grafton, 
Aylmer,  or  even  Ascham,  had  been  chief- 
ly polished  away  ;  if  we  meet  in  Sidney, 
Hooker,  or  the  prose  of  Spenser  with  ob- 
solete expressions  or  forms,  we  find  none 


ings,  warmth  is  his  first  characteristic,  and 
a  certain  elegance  is  the  second.     In  the 


to  employ  what  seemed  to  them  oriia 
ment  with  much  imagination  rather  tha? 


power  of  statement  I  do  not  perceive  that  judicious  taster  yet  seldom  degenerating 
he  is  inferior  to  Patru  ;  both  are  excellent,  j  into  commonplace  and  indefinite  phrase- 
Wherever  great  moral  or  social  topics,  or  ,  ology.  They  have,  however,  many  de- 
extensive  views  of  history  and  human  na-  fects  ;  some  of  them,  especially  the  most 


Hire  can  be  employed,  Le  Maistre  has  the 


learned,  are  full  of  pedantry,  and  deform 


advantage.  Both  are  consise,  relatively  their  pages  by  an  excessive  and  prepos- 
lo  the  common  verbosity  of  the  bar  ;  but  j  terous  mixture  of  Latinisms  unknown  be- 
Le  Maistre  has  much  more  that  might  be  i  fore  ;*  at  other  times  we  are  disgusted  by 
retrenched  ;  not  that  it  is  redundant  in  {  colloquial  and  even  vulgar  idioms  or  prov- 
erbs ;  nor  is  it  uncommon  to  find  these 
opposite  blemishes  not  only  in  the  same 
author,  but  in  the  same  passages.  Their 


expression,  but  unnecessary  in  substance. 
This  is  owing  to  his  ambitious  display  of 
general  erudition ;  his  quotations  are  too 
frequent  and  too  ornamental,  partly  drawn 
from  the  ancients,  but  more  from  the  fa-' 
thers.  Ambrose,  in  fact,  Jerome  and  Au- 
gustin,  Chrysostom,  Basil,  and  Gregory 
were  the  models  whom  the  writers  of  this 
age  were  accustomed  to  study  ;  and  hence 
they  are  often,  and  Le  Maistre  among  the 
rest,  too  apt  to  declaim  where  they  should 
prove,  and  to  use  arguments  from  analo- 


*  Perrault  says  of  Patru  in  his  Hommes  Illustres 
de  France,  vol.  ii.,  p.  66,  Ses  plaidoyers  servent  en- 
core ctujoiu-d'hui  de  modele  pour  ecrire  correctement 
en  notre  langue.  Yet  they  were  not  much  above 
thirty  years  old — so  much  had  the  language  chan- 
ged, as  to  rules  of  writing,  within  that  time. 


periods,  except  in  a  very  few,  are  ill-con- 
structed and  tediously  prolonged ;  their 
ears  (again  with  some  exceptions)  seem 
to  have  been  insensible  to  the  beauty  of 
rhythmical  prose ;  grace  is  commonly 
wanting,  and  their  notion  of  the  artifices 
of  style,  when  they  thought  at  all  about 
them,  was  not  congenial  to  our  own  lan- 
guage. This  may  be  deemed  a  general 
description  of  the  English  writers  under 


*  In  Pratt's  edition  of  Bishop  Hall's  works,  we 
have  a  glossary  of  obsolete  or  unusual  words  em- 
ployed by  him.  They  amount  to  more  than  1100, 
the  greater  part  being  of  Latin  or  Greek  origin ; 
some  are  Gallicisms. 


FROM   1600  TO  1650. 


229 


jamcs  and  Charles ;  we  shall  now  pro- 
ceed to  mention  some  of  the  most  famous, 
and  who  may,  in  a  certain  degree,  be 
deemed  to  modify  this  censure.  *- 

30.  I  will  begin  with  a  passage  of  very 
Earl  or  considerable  beauty,  which  is  here 
Essex,  out  of  its  place,  since  it  was  written 
in  the  year  1598.  It  is  found  in  the  Apol- 
ogy for  the  Earl  of  Essex,  published 
among  the  works  of  Lord  Bacon,  and  pass- 
ing, 1  suppose,  commonly  for  his.  It 
seems,  nevertheless,  in  my  judgment,  far 
more  probably  genuine.  We  have  no- 
where in  our  early  writers  a  flow  of  words 
so  easy  and  graceful,  a  structure  so  har- 
monious, a  series  of  antitheses  so  spirited 
without  affectation,  an  absence  of  quaint- 
ness,  pedantry,  and  vulgarity  so  truly  gen- 
tleman-like, a  paragraph  so  worthy  of  the 
most  brilliant  man  of  his  age.  This  could 
not  have  come  from  Bacon,  who  never 
divested  himself  of  a  certain  didactic  for- 
mality, even  if  he  cduld  have  counterfeit- 
ed that  chivalrous  generosity  which  it  was 
not  in  his  nature  to  feel.  It  is  the  lan- 
guage of  a  soldier's  heart,  with  the  un- 
studied grace  of  a  noble  courtier.* 

*  "  A  word  for  my  friendship  with  the  chief  men 
of  action,  and  favour  generally  to  the  men  of  war; 
and  then  I  come  to  their  main  objection,  which  is 
my  crossing  .of  the  treaty  in  hand.  For  most  of 
f  them  that  are  accounted  the  chief  men  of  action,  I 
do  confess,  I  do  entirely  love  them.  They  have 
been  my  companions  both  abroad  and  at  home ; 
some  of  them  began  the  wars  with  me,  most  have 
had  place  under  me,  and  many  have  had  me  a  wit- 
ness of  their  rising  from  captains,  lieutenants,  and 
private  men  to  those  charges  which  since,  by  their 
virtue,  they  have  obtained.  Now  that  I  have  tried 
them,  I  would  choose  them  for  friends  if  I  had 
them  not ;  before  1  had  tried  them,  God,  by  hisprov- 
idence,  chose  them  for  me.  I  love  them  for  mine 
own  sake  ;  for  I  find  sweetness  in  their  conversa- 
tion, strong  assistance  in  their  employments  with 
me,  and  happiness  in  their  friendship.  I  love  them 
for  their  virtues'  sake,  and  for  their  greatness  of 
mind  (for  little  minds,  though  never  so  full  of  vir- 
tue, can  be  but  a  little  virtuous),  and  for  their  great 
understanding ;  for  to  understand  little  things,  or 
things  not  of  use,  is  little  better  than  to  understand 
nothing  at  all.  I  love  them  for  their  affections  ;  for 
self-loving  men  love  ease, pleasure,  and  profit;  but 
ihey  that  love  pains,  danger,  and  fame,  show  that 
they  love  public  profit  more  than  themselves.  I 
love  them  for  my  country's  sake  ;  for  they  are  Eng- 
land's best  armour  of  defence  and  weapons  of  of- 
fence. If  we  may  have  peace,  they  have  purchased 
it ;  if  we  must  have  war,  they  must  manage  it.  Vet, 
while  we  are  doubtful  and  in  treaty,  we  must  value 
ourselves  by  what  may  be  done,  and  the  enemy  will 
value  us  by  what  hath  been  done  by  our  chief  men 
of  action. 

"  That  generally  I  am  affected  to  the  men  of  war, 
it  should  not  seem  strange  to  any  reasonable  man. 
Every  man  doth  love  them  of  his  own  profession. 
The  grave  judges  favour  the  students  of  the  law  ; 
the  reverend  bishops  the  labourers  in  the  ministry  ; 
and  I  (since  her  majesty  hath  yearly  user1  my  ser- 
vice in  her  late  actions)  must  reckon  myself  in  the 
number  of  her  men  of  war.  Before  action,  Provi- 


31.  Knolles,  already  known  by  a  spirit- 
ed translation  of  Bodin's  Com-  Knoiies'8 
monwealth,  published,  in  1610,  a  History  01 
copious  History  of  the  Turks,  theTurk«- 
bringing  down  his  narrative  to  the  most 
recent  times.  Johnson,  in  a  paper  of  the 
Rambler,  has  given  him  the  superiority 
over  all  English  historians.  "  He  has 
displayed  all  the  excellences  that  narra- 
tion can  admit.  His  style,  though  some- 
what obscured  by  time  and  vitiated  by 
false  wit,  is  pure,  nervous,  elevated,  and 
dear.  .  .  .  Nothing  could  have  sunk  this 
author  into  obscurity  but  the  remoteness 
and  barbarity  of  the  people  whose  story 
he  relates.  It  seldom  happens  that  all 
circumstances  concur  to  happiness  or 
fame.  The  nation  which  produced  this 
great  historian  has  the  grief  of  seeing  his 
genius  employed  upon  a  foreign  and  unin- 
teresting subject ;  and  that  writer  who 
might  have  secured  perpetuity  to  his 
name  by  a  history  of  his  own  country, 
has  exposed  himself  to  the  danger  of  ob- 
livion by  recounting  enterprises  and  revo- 
lutions of  which  none  desire  to  be  inform- 
ed."* The  subject,  however,  appeared  to 
Knolles,  and  I  know  not  how  we  can  say 
erroneously,  one  of  the  most  splendid  he 
could  have  selected.  It  was  the  rise  and 
growth  of  a  mighty  nation,  second  only 
to  Rome  in  the  constancy  of  success  and 
in  the  magnitude  of  empire  ;  a  nation 
fierce  and  terrible,  the  present  scourge  of 
half  Christendom ;  and  though,  from  our 
remoteness,  not  very  formidable  to  our- 
selves, still  one  of  which  not  the  bookish 
man  in  his  closet  or  the  statesman  in  coun- 
cil had  alone  heard,  but  the  smith  at  his 
anvil,  and  the  husbandman  at  his  plough. 
A  long  decrepitude  of  the  Turkish  em- 
pire on  one  hand,  and  our  frequent  alli- 
ance with  it  on  the  other,  have  obliterated 
the  apprehensions  and  interests  of  every 
kind  which  were  awakened  throughout 
Europe  by  its  youthful  fury  and  its  ma- 
tun-  strength.  The  subject  was  also  new 
in  England,  yet  rich  in  materials  ;  vari- 
ous, in  comparison  with  ordinary  history, 
though  not,  perhaps,  so  fertile  of  philo- 
sophical observation  as  some  others,  arid 
furnishing  many  occasions  for  the  pecu- 
liar talents  of  Knolles.  These  were  dis- 
played, not  in  depth  of  thought  or  copi- 
ousness of  collateral  erudition,  but  in  a 
style  and  in  a  power  of  narration  which 
Johnson  has  not  too  highly  extolled. 
His  descriptions  are  vivid  and  animated  ; 

dence  makes  me  cherish  them  for  what  they  can 
do  ;  in  action,  necessity  makes  me  value  them  for~ 
the  service  they  do ;  and  after  action,  experience 
and  thankfulness  make  me  love  them  for  the  ser- 
vice they  have  done."  *  Rambler,  No.  122. 


230 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


circumstantial,  but  not  to  feebleness  ;  his 
characters  are  drawn  with  a  strong  pencil. 
It  is,  indeed,  difficult  to  estimate  the  mer- 
its of  an  historian  very  accurately  without 
having  before  our  eyes  his  original  sour- 
c'es  ;  he  may  probably  have  translated 
much  that  we  admire,  and  he  had  shown 
that  he  knew  how  to  translate.  In  the 
style  of  Knolles  there  is  sometimes,  as 
Johnson  has  hinted,  a  slight  excess  of  de- 
sire to  make  every  phrase  effective  ;  but 
he  is  exempt  from  the  usual  blemishes  of 
his  age ;  and  his  command  of  the  lan- 
guage is  so  extensive,  that  we  should  not 
err  in  placing  him  among  the  first  of  our 
elder  writers.  Comparing,  as  a  specimen 
of  Knolles's  manner,  his  description  of 
the  execution  of  Mustapha,  son  of  Soly- 
maii,  with  that  given  by  Robertson,  where 
the  latter  historian  has  been  as  circum- 
stantial as  his  limits  would  permit,  we 
shall  perceive  that  the  former  paints  bet- 
ter his  story,  and  deepens  better  its  inter- 
.est.* 

33.  Raleigh's  History  of  the  World  is 
Raleigh's  a  proof  of  the  respect  for  labori- 
History  of  ous  learning  that  had  long  distin- 
tbe  world.  guished  Europe.  We  should  ex- 
pect from  the  prison-hours  of  a  soldier,  a 
courtier,  a  busy  intriguer  in  state  affairs, 
a  poet  and  man  of  genius,  something  well 
worth  our  notice  ;  but  hardly  a  prolix  his- 
tory of  the  ancient  world,  hardly  disqui- 
sitions on  the  site  of  Paradise  and  the  trav- 
els of  Cain.  These  are  probably  transla- 
ted with  little  alteration  from  some  of  the 
learned  writings  of  the  Continent ;  they 
are  by  much  the  least  valuable  portion  of 
Raleigh's  work.  The  Greek  and  Roman 
story  is  told  more  fully  and  exactly  than 
by  any  earlier  English  writer,  and  with  a 
plain  eloquence,  which  has  given  this  book 
a  classical  reputation  in  our  language ; 
though  from  its  length,  and  the  want  of 
that  critical  sifting  of  facts  which  we  now 
justly  demand,  it  is  not  greatly  read.  Ra- 
leigh has  intermingled  political  reflections, 
and  illustrated  his  history  by  episodes 
from  modern  times,  which,  .perhaps,  are 
now  the  most  interesting  passages.  It 
descends  only  to  the  second  Macedonian 
war ;  the  continuation  might  have  been 
more  generally  valuable  ;  but  either  the 
death  of  Prince  Henry,  as  Raleigh  himself 
tells  us,  or  the  new  schemes  of  ambition 
which  unfortunately  opened  upon  his  eyes, 
prevented  the  execution  of  the  large  plan 
he  had  formed.  There  is  little  now  ob- 
solete in  the  words  of  Raleigh,  nor,  to  any 
great  degree,  in  his  turn  of  phrase ;  the 
periods,  when  pains  have  been  taken  with 


them,  show  that  artificial  structure  which 
we  find  in  Sidney  and  Hooker  ;  he  is  less 
pedantic  than  most  of  his  contemporaries, 
seldom  low,  never  affected.* 

33.  Daniel's  History  of  England  from 
the  Conquest  to  the  Reign  of  Ed-  Daniel's 
ward  III.,  published  in  1G18.  is  History  oj 
deserving  of  some  attention  on  Ens|and 
account  of  its  language.  It  is  written 
with  a  freedom  from  all  stiffness,  and  a 
purity  of  style  which  hardly  any  other 
work  of  so  early  a  date  exhibits.  These 
qualities  are,  indeed,  so  remarkable,  that  it 
would  require  a  good  deal  of  critical  ob- 
servation to  distinguish  it  even  from  wri- 
tings of  the  reign  of  Anne  ;  and  where  it 
differs  from  them  (I  speak  only  of  the 
secondary  class  of  works,  which  have  not 
much  individuality  of  manner),  it  is  by  a 
more  select  idiom,  and  by  an  absence  of 
the  Gallicism  or  vulgarity  which  are  often 
found  in  that  age.  It  is  true  that  the 
merits  of  Daniel  are  chiefly  negative  ;  he 
is  never  pedantic,  or  antithetical,  or  low, 
as  his  contemporaries  were  apt  to  be  ;  but 
his  periods  are  ill  constructed  ;  he  has  lit- 
tle vigour  or  elegance ;  and  it  is  only  by 
observing  how  much  pains  he  must  have 
taken  to  reject  phrases  which  were  grow- 
ing obsolete,  that  we  give  him  credit  for 
having  done  more  than  follow  the  com- 
mon stream  of  early  writing.  A  slight 
tinge  of  archaism,  and  a  certain  majesty 
of  expression,  relatively  to  colloquial 
usage,  were  thought  by  Bacon  and  Ra- 
leigh congenial  to  an  elevated  style  ;  but 
Daniel,  a  gentleman  of  the  king's  house- 
hold, wrote  as  the  court  spoke ;  and  his 
facility  would  be  pleasing  if  his  sentences 
had  a  less  negligent  structure.  As  an  his- 
torian, he  has  recourse  only  to  common 
authorities  ;  but  his  narration  is  fluent  and 


*  Knolles,  p.  515.    Robertson,  book  xi. 


*  Raleigh's  History  was  so  little  known,  that 
Warburton,  in  the  preface  to  his  Julian,  took  from 
it  a  remarkable  passage  without  acknowledgment : 
and  Dr.  Parr,  though  a  man  of  very  extensive 
reading,  extolled  it  as  Warburton's,  not  knowing, 
what  he  afterward  discovered,  the  original  source. 
The  passage  is  as  follows  in  Raleigh,  Warburton, 
of  course,  having  altered  some  of  the  expressions." 
"  We  have  left  it  (the  Roman  empire)  flourishing 
in  the  middle  of  the  field,  having  rooted  up  or  cut 
down  all  that  kept  it  from  the  eyes  and  admiration 
of  the  world.  But,  after  some  continuance,  it  shall 
begin  to  lose  the  beauty  it  had  ;  the  storms  of  am 
bition  shall  beat  her  great  boughs  and  branches  one 
against  another  ;  her  leaves  shall  fall  off,  her  limbs 
wither,  and  a  rabble  of  barbarous  nations  enter 
the  field  and  cut  her  down." — Raleigh's  History, 
ad  finem. 

Notwithstanding  the  praise  that  has  been  be- 
stowed on  this  sentence,  it  is  open  to  some  cen- 
sure ;  the  simile  and  subject  are  too  much  con- 
founded ;  a  rabble  of  barbarous  nations  might  be 
required  to  subvert  the  Roman  empire,  but  make 
an  odd  figure  in  cutting  down  a  tree.  The  rhythm 
and  spirit,  indeed,  are  admirable. 


FROM  1COO  TO  1650. 


231 


perspicuous,  with  a  regular  vein  of  good 
sense,  more  the  characteristic  of  his  mind, 
both  in  verse  and  prose,  than  any  com- 
manding vigour. 

34.  The  style  of  Bacon  has  an  idiosyn- 
cracy  which  we  might  expect  from 

con'  his  genius.  It  can  rarely,  indeed, 
happen,  and  only  in  men  of  secondary 
talents,  that  the  'anguage  they  use  is  not, 
by  its  very  choice  and  collocation,  as  wreil 
as  its  meaning,  the  representative  of  an 
individuality  that  distinguishes  their  turn 
of  thought.  Bacon  is  elaborate,  senten- 
tious, often  witty,  often  metaphorical ; 
nothing  could  be  spared ;  his  analogies  are 
generally  striking  and  novel;  his  style  is 
clear,  precise,  forcible  ;  yet  there  is  some 
degree  of  stiffness  about  it,  and  in  mere 
language  he  is  inferior  to  Raleigh.  The  I 
History  of  Henry  VII.,  admirable  as  many  ; 
passages  are,  seems  to  be  written  rather  j 
too  ambitiously,  and  with  too  great  an  ab- 
sence of  simplicity. 

35.  The  polemical  writings  of  Milton, 


which  chieliy  fall  within  this  period, 
>n'  contain  several  bursts  of  his  splendid 
imagination  and  grandeur  of  soul.  They 
are,  however,  much  inferior  to  the  Areo- 
pagitica,  or  Pica  for  the  Liberty  of  Un- 
licensed Printing.  Many  passages  in  this 
famous  tract  are  admirably  eloquent  ;  an 
intense  love  of  liberty  and  truth  glows 
through  it;  the  majestic  soul  of  Milton 
breathes  .such  high  thoughts  as  had  not 
been  uttered  before  ;  yet  even  here  he 
frequently  sinks  in  a  single  instant,  as  is 
usual  with  our  old  writers,  from  his  high- 
est flights  to  the  ground  ;  his  intermixture 
of  familiar  with  learned  phraseology  is  tin- 
pleasing,  his  structure  is  affectedly  elabo- 
rate, and  he  seldom  reaches  any  harmony. 
If  he  turns  to  invective,  as  sometimes  in 
this  treatise,  and  more  in  his  Apology  for 
Smectymnuus,  it  is  mere  ribaldrous  vul- 
garity blended  with  pedantry  ;  his  wit  is 
always  poor  and  without  ease.  An  ab- 
sence of  idiomatic  grace,  and  a  use  of 
harsh  inversions,  violating  the  rules  of  the 
language,  distinguish,  in  general,  the  wai- 
tings of  Milton,  and  require,  in  order  to 
compensate  them,  such  high  beauties  as 
will  sometimes  occur. 

36.  The  History  of  Clarendon  may  be 
considered  as  belonging  rather  to 
3on"  this  than  to  the  second  period  of 
the  century,  both  by  the  probable  date  of 
composition  and  by  the  nature  of  its  style. 
He  is  excellent  in  everything  that  \\p  has 
performed  with  care  ;  his  characters  are 
beautifully  delineated  ;  his  sentiments  have 
often  a  noble  gravity,  which  the  length  of 
his  periods,  far  too  "great  in  itself,  seems 
to  befit  ;  but  in  the  general  course  of  his 


narration  he  is  negligent  of  grammar  and 
perspicuity,  with  little  choice  of  words, 
and,  therefore,  sometimes  idiomatic  with- 
out ease  or  elegance.  The  official  papers 
on  the  royal  side,  which  are  generally  at- 
tributed to  him,  are  written  in  a  masculine 
and  majestic  tone,  far  superior  to  those  of 
the  Parliament.  The  latter  had,  however, 
a  writer  who  did  them  honour:  May's 
History  of  the  Parliament  is  a  good  model 
of  genuine  English;  he  is  plain,  terse,  and 
vigorous,  never  slovenly,  though  with  few 
remarkable  passages,  and  is,  in  style  as 
well  as  substance,  a  kind  of  contrast  to 
Clarendon. 

37.  The  famous  Icon  Basilice,  ascribed 
to  Charles  I.,  may  deserve  a  place  The  icon 
in  literary  history.  If  we  could  uasiiice. 
trust  its  panegyrists,  few  books  in  our 
language  have  done  it  more  credit  by  dig- 
nity of  sentiment  and  beauty  of  style.  It 
can  hardly  be  necessary  for  me  to  express 
my  unhesitating  conviction  that  it  was 
solely  written  by  Bishop  Gaudcn,  who, 
after  the  Restoration,  unequivocally  claim- 
ed it  as  his  own.  The  folly  and  impudence 
of  such  a  claim,  if  it  could  not  be  substan- 
tiated, arc  not  to  be  presumed  as  to  any 
man  of  good  understanding,  fair  character, 
and  high  station,  without  stronger  evidence 
than  has  been  alleged  on  the  other  side  ; 
especially  when  we  find  that  those  who 
had  the  best  means  of  inquiry,  at  a  time 
when  it  seems  impossible  that  the  false- 
hood of  Gauden's  assertion  should  not 
have  been  demonstrated  if  it  were  false, 
acquiesced  in  his  pretensions.  We  have 
very  little  to  place  against  this  except 
secondary  testimony,  vague,  for  the  most 
part,  in  itself,  and  collected  by  those  whose 
veracity  has  not  been  put  to  the  test  like 
that  of  Gauden.*  The  style,  also,  of  the 
Icon  Basilice  has  been  identified  by  Mr. 
Todd  with  that  of  Gauden,  by  the  use  of 
several  phrases  so  peculiar  that  we  can 
hardly  conceive  them  to  have  suggested 

*  There  is  only  one  claimant,  in  a  proper  sense, 
for  the  Icon  Basilice,  which  is  Uaudcn  himself;  the 
king  neither  appears  by  himself  nor  representative. 
And,  though  we  may  find  several  instances  of 
plagiarism  in  literary  history  (one  of  the  grosses: 
being  the  publication,  by  a  Spanish  friar,  under 
another  title,  of  a  book  already  in  print  with  tho 
name  of  Hyperius  of  Marpurg,  its  real  author),  yet 
I  cannot  call  to  mind  any,  where  a  man  known  to 
the  world  has  asserted  in  terms  his  own  authorship 
of  a  hook  not  written  by  himself,  but  universally 
ascribed  to  another,  and  which  hml  never  been  in 
his  possession.  A  story  is  told,  and  I  believe  truly, 
that,  a  young  man  assumed  the  credit,  of  Macken- 
zie's Man  of  Feelinsr  while  it  was  still  anonymous. 
But  this  is  widuly  different  from  the  case  of  the 
Icon  Basilice.  We  have  had  an  interminable  dis- 
cussion as  to  the  Letters  of  Junius.  But  no  one 
has  ever  claimed  this  derelict  property  to  himself, 
or  told  the  world.  I  am  Junius. 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


themselves  to  more  than  one  person.  It 
is,  nevertheless,  superior  to  his  acknowl- 
edged writings.  A  strain  of  majestic  mel- 
ancholy is  well  kept  up ;  but  the  person- 
ated sovereign  is  rather  too  theatrical  for 
real  nature,  the  language  is  too  rhetorical 
and  amplified,  the  periods  too  artificially 
elaborated.  None  but  scholars  and  prac- 
tised writers  employ  such  a  style  as  this. 
38.  Burton's  Anatomy  of  Melancholy 
belongs,  by  its  systematic  divis- 
Ariatomy  i°ns  and  its  accumulated  quota- 
of  Meian-  tions,  to  the  class  of  mere  erudi- 

choly.         jjon  .    jt  seems>  at   fjrst   sight,  like 

those  tedious  Latin  folios,  into  which 
scholars  of  the  sixteenth  and  seventeenth 
centuries  threw  the  materials  of  their  Ad- 
versaria, or  commonplace  books,  pain- 
fully selected  and  arranged  by  the  labour 
of  many  years.  But  writing  fortunately 
in  English,  and  in  a  style  not  by  any 
means  devoid  of  point  and  terseness,  with 
much  good  sense,  and  observation  of  men 
as  well  as  of  books,  and  having,  also,  the 
skill  of  choosing  his  quotations  for  their 
rareness,  oddfty,  and  amusing  character, 
without  losing  sight  of  their  pertinence  to 
the  subject,  he  has  produced  a  work  of 
which,  as  is  well  known,  Johnson  said 
that  it  was  the  only  one  which  had  ever 
caused  him  to  leave  his  bed  earlier  than 
he  had  intended.  Johnson,  who  seems  to 
have  had  some  turn  for  the  singularities 
of  learning  which  fill  the  Anatomy  of 
Melancholy,  may  perhaps  have  raised  the 
credit  of  Burton  higher  than  his  desert. 
He  is  clogged  by  excess  of  reading,  like 
others  of  his  age,  and  we  may  peruse  en- 
tire chapters  without  finding  more  than  a 
few  lines  tljat  belong  to  himself.  This 
becomes  a  wearisome  style,  and,  for  my- 
self, I  have  not  found  much  pleasure  in 
glancing  over  the  Anatomy  of  Melancholy. 
It  may  be  added,  that  he  has  been  a  col- 
lector of  stories  far  more  strange  than 
true,  from  those  records  of  figments,  the 
old  medical  writers  of  the  sixteenth  cen- 
tury, and  other  equally  deceitful  sources. 
Burton  lived  at  Oxford,  and  his  volumes 
are  apparently  a  great  sweeping  of  mis- 
cellaneous literature  from  the  Bodleian 
library. 

39.   John  Earle,  after  the   Restoration 
F.arie's        bishop  of  Worcester,  and  then 
Characters.  of  Salisbury,  is  author  of  "  Mi-  | 
crocosmographia,  or  a  Piece  of  the  Worlde  \ 
discovered  in   Essays   and    Characters,"  j 
published  anonymously  in  1628.     In  some  I 
of  these  short  characters,  Earle  is  worthy 
of  comparison  with  La  Bruyere ;  in  oth- 
ers, perhaps  the  greater  part,  he  has  con-  j 
tented  himself  with  pictures  of  ordinary  ! 
manners,  such  as  the  varieties  of  occupa-  ] 


tion,  rather  than  of  intrinsic  character, 
supply.  In  all,  however,  we  find  an  acute 
observation  and  a  happy  humour  of  ex- 
pression. The  chapter  entitled  the  Skep- 
tic is  best  known;  it  is  witty,  but  an  in- 
sult, throughout,  on  the  honest  searcher 
after  truth,  which  could  have  come  only 
from  one  that  was  content  to  take  up  his 
own  opinions  for  ease  or  profit.  Earle  is 
always  gay,  and  quick  to  catch  the  ridic- 
ulous, especially  that  of  exterior  appear- 
ances ;  his  style  is  short,  describing  well 
with  a  few  words,  but  with  much  of  the 
affected  quaintness  of  that  age.  It  is  one 
of  those  books  which  give  us  a  picturesque 
idea  of  the  manners  of  our  fathers  at  a 
period  now  become  remote,  and  for  this 
reason  it  would  deserve  to  be  read. 

40.  But  the   Microcosmography  is  not 
an  original  work  in  its  plan  or  overbuys 
mode  of  execution  ;  it  is  a  close  Characters, 
imitation  of  the  Chai'acters  of  Sir  Thomas 
Overbury.     They  both  belong  to  the  fa- 
vourite style  of  apophthegm,  in  which  ev- 
ery sentence  is  a  point  or  a  witticism. 
Yet  the  entire  character  so  delineated  pro- 
duces a  certain  effect ;  it  is  a  Dutch  pic- 
ture, a  Gerard  Dow,  somewhat  too  elab- 
orate.    Earle  has  more  natural  humour 
than  Overbury,  and  hits  his  mark  more 
neatly  ;   the  other  is   more  satirical,  but 
often,  abusive  and  vulgar.     The  "  Fair  and 
Happy  Milkmaid,"  often   quoted,  is   the 
best  of  his  characters.     The  wit  is  often 
trivial  and  flat ;  the  sentiments  have  no- 
thing in  them  general  or  worthy  of  much 
resemblance  ;   praise  is  only  due  to  the 

raphic  skill  in  delineating  character. 
Earle  is  as  clearly  the  better,  as  Overbury 
is  the  more  original  writer. 

41.  A   book  by   Ben   Jonson,  entitled 
Timber,  or  Discoveries  made  jonson's 

upon  Men  and  Matter,"  is  alto-  Discoveries, 
gether  miscellaneous,  the  greater  part  be- 
ng  general  moral  remarks,  while  another 
portion  deserves  notice  as  the  only  book 
of  English  criticism  in  the  first  part  of  the 
eventeenth  century.  The  observations 
are  unconnected,  judicious,  sometimes 
witty,  frequently  severe.  The  style  is 
what  was  called  pregnant,  leaving  much 
to  be  filled  up  by  the  reader's  reflection. 
Good  sense,  and  a  vigorous  manner  of 
grappling  with  every  subject,  will  gener- 
ally be  found  in  Jonson,  but  he  does  not 
reach  any  very  profound  criticism.  His 
English  Grammar  is  said  by  Giftbrd  to 
have  been  destroyed  in  the  conflagration 
of  his  study.  What  we  have,  therefore, 
under  that  name  is,  he  thinks,  to  be  con- 
sidered as  properly  the  materials  of  a 
more  complete  work  that  is  lost.  We 
have,  as  I  apprehend,  no  earlier  grammar 


FROM  1600  TO  1C50. 


233 


npon  so  elaborate  a  plan;  every  rule  is 
illustrated  by  examples,  almost  to  redun- 
dance ;  but  he  is  too  copious  on  what  is 
common  to  other  languages,  and  perhaps 
not  full  enough  as  to  our  peculiar  idiom. 
Nothing  else  deserving  of  the  slightest  no- 
tice can  be  added  to  this  book  of  Jonson. 


SECT.  II.     ON  FICTION. 

Cervantes.  —  French  Romances.  —  Calprenede.  — 
Scuderi.— Latin  and  English  Works  of  Fiction. 

42.  THE  first  part  of  Don  Quixote  was 
Publication  published  in  1605.     We  have  no 
or  Don        reason,  I  believe,  to  suppose  that 
Quixote.       jt  was  written  long  before.     It 
became  immediately  popular;  and  the  ad- 
miration of  the  world  raised  up  envious 
competitors,  one   of  whom,  Avellenada, 
published  a  continuation  in  a  strain  of  in- 
vective against  the  author.      Cervantes, 
who  cannot  be  imagined  to  have  ever  de- 
signed the  leaving  his  romance  in  so  un- 
finished a  state,  took  time  about  the  sec- 
ond part,  which  did  not  appear  till  1615. 

43.  Don  Quixote  is  the  only  book  in  the 
its  repu-  Spanish  language  which  can  now 
union.      be  said  to  possess  much  of  a  Eu- 
ropean reputation.     It  has,  however,  en- 
joyed enough  1o  compensate  for  the  neg- 
lect of  all  the  rest.     It  is  to  Europe  in 
general    what   Ariosto   is    to    Italy,  and 
vShakspeare  to  England ;  the  one  book  to 
which  the  slightest  allusions  may  be  made 
without  affectation,  but  not  missed  with- 
out   discredit.      Numerous    translations, 
and  countless  editions  of  them,  in  every 
language, -bespeak  its  adaptation  to  man- 
kind ;    no    critic    has    been    paradoxical 
enough  to  withhold  his  admiration;  no 
reader  has  ventured  to  confess  a  want  of 
relish  for  that  in  which  the  young  and 
old,  in  every  climate,  have,  age  after  age, 
taken  delight.     They  have  doubtless  be- 
lieved that  they  understood  the  author's 
meaning ;  and,  in  giving  the  reins  to  the 
gayety  that  his  fertile  invention  and  comic 
humour  inspired,  never  thought  of  any 
deeper  meaning  than  he   announces,  or 
delayed   their  enjoyment  for  any  meta- 
physical investigation  of  his  plan. 

44.  A  new  school  of  criticism,  howev- 
Newviewa    er,  has  of  late  years  arisen  in 
of iu design.  Germany,  acute,  ingenious,  and 
sometimes  eminently  successful  in  philo- 
sophical, or,  as  they  denominate  it,  aes- 
thetic analysis  of  works  of  taste,  but  gli- 
ding too  much  into  refinement  and  con- 
jectural hypothesis,  and  with  a  tendency 
to  mislead  men  of  inferior  capacities  for 
this  kind  of  investigation  into  mere  para- 

VOL.  II.— G  o 


dox  and  absurdity.  An  instance  is  sup- 
plied, in  my  opinion,  by  some  remarks  of 
Bouterwek,  still  more  explicitly  developed 
by  Sismondi,  on  the  design  of  Cervantes 
in  Don  Quixote,  and  which  have  been  re- 
peated in  other  publications.  According 
to  these  writers,  the  primary  idea  is  that 
of  a  "  man  of  elevated  character,  excited 
by  heroic  and  enthusiastic  feelings  to  the 
extravagant  pitch  of  wishing  to  restore 
the  age  of  chivalry ;  nor  is  it  possible  to 
form  a  more  mistaken  notion  of  this  work 
than  by  considering  it  merely  as  a  satire, 
intended  by  the  author  to  ridicule  the  ab- 
surd passion  for  reading  old  romances."* 
"  The  fundamental  idea  of  Don  Quixote," 
says  Sismoudi,  "  is  the  eternal  contrast 
between  the  spirit  of  poetry  and  that  of 
prose.  Men  of  an  elevated  soul  propose 
to  themselves,  as  the  object  of  life,  to  be 
the  defenders  of  the  weak,  the  support  of 
the  oppressed,  the  champions  of  justice 
and  innocence.  Like  Don  Quixote,  they 
find  on  every  side  the  image  of  the  virtues 
they  worship  ;  they  believe  that  disinter- 
estedness, nobleness,  courage,  in  short, 
knight-errantry,  are  still  prevalent ;  and, 
with  no  calculation  of  their  own  powers, 
they  expose  themselves  for  an  ungrateful 
world,  they  offer  themselves  as  a  sacrifice 
to  the  laws  and  rules  of  an  imaginary  state 
of  society."! 

45.  If  this  were  a  true  representation 
of  the  scheme  of  Don  Quixote,  we  cannot 
wonder  that  some  persons  should,  as  M. 
Sismondi  tells  us  they  do,  consider  it  as 
the  most  melancholy  book  that  has  ever 
been  written.     They  consider  it  also,  no 
doubt,  one  of  the  most  immoral,  as  chill- 
ing and  pernicious  in  its  influence  on  the 
social  converse  of.  mankind  as  the  Prince 
of  Machiavel  is  on  their  political  inter- 
course.    "  Cervantes,"  he  proceeds,  "  has 
shown  us,  in  some  measure,  the  vanity 
of  greatness  of  soul  and  the  delusion  of 
heroism.     He  has  drawn,  in  Don  Quixote, 
a  perfect  man  (un  homme  accompli),  who 
is,  nevertheless,  the   constant  object  of 
ridicule.    Brave  beyond  the  fabled  knights 
he  imitates,  disinterested,  honourable,  gen- 
erous, the  most  faithful  and  respectful  of 
lovers,  the  best  of  masters,  the  most  ac- 
complished and  well-educated  of  gentle- 
men, all  his  enterprises  end  in  discomfi- 
ture to  himself  and  in  mischief  to  others." 
M.  Sismondi  descants  upon  the  perfec- 
tions of  the  Knight  of  La  Mancha  with  a 
gravity  which  is  not  quite  easy  for  his 
readers  to  preserve. 

46.  It  might  be  answered  by  a  phleg- 

*  Bouterwek,  p.  334. 

t  Litterature  du  Midi,  vol.  iii.,  p.  339. 


234 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


Probably  matic  observer,  that  a  mere  en- 
erroneous,  thusiasm  for  doing  good,  if  excited 
by  vanity,  and  not  accompanied  by  com- 
mon sense,  will  seldom  be  very  service- 
able to  ourselves  or  to  others;  that  men 
who,  in  their  heroism  and  care  for  the 
oppressed,  would  throw  open  the  cages  of 
lions,  and  set  galley-slaves  at  liberty,  not 
forgetting  to  break  the  limbs  of  harmless 
persons  whom  they  mistake  for  wrong- 
doers, are  a  class  of  whom  Don  Quixote 
is  the  real  type  ;  and  that  the,  world  being 
much  the  worse  for  such  heroes,  it  might 
not  be  immoral,  notwithstanding  their  be- 
nevolent enthusiasm,  to  put  them  out  of 
countenance  by  a  little  ridicule.  This, 
however,  is  not,  as  I  conceive,  the  primary 
aim  of  Cervantes ;  nor  do  I  fliink  that  the 
exhibitioa  of  one.  great  truth,  as  the  pre- 
dominant, but  concealed  moral  of  a  long 
work,  is  in  the  spirit  of  his  age.  He  pos- 
sessed a  very  thoughtful  mind  and  a  pro- 
found knowledge  of  humanity;  yet  the 
generalization  which  the  hypothesis  of 
Bouterwek  and  Sismondi  requires  for  the 
leading  conception  of  Don  Quixote,  be- 
sides its  being  a  little  inconsistent  with 
the  valorous  and  romantic  character  of  its 
author,  belongs  to  a  more  advanced  period 
of  philosophy  than  his  own.  It  will,  at  all 
events,  I  presume,  be  admitted,  that  we 
can  not  reason  about  Don  Quixote  except 
from  the  book,  and  I  think  it  may  be  shown 
in  a  few  words  that  these  ingenious  wri- 
ters have  been  chiefly  misled  by  some 
want  of  consistency  which  circumstances 
produced  in  the  author's  delineation  of 
his  hero. 

47.  In  the  first  chapter  of  this  romance, 
Difference  Cervantes,  with  a  few  strokes 
between  the  of  a  great  master,  sets  before 
two  pans.  us  t]ie  pauper  gentleman,  an 
early  riser  and  keen  sportsman,  who, 
"  when  he  was  idle,  which  was  most  part 
of  the  year,"  gave  himself  up  to  reading 
books  of  chivalry  till  he  lost  his  wits. 
The  events  that  follow  are  in  every  one's 
recollection;  his  lunacy  consists,  no  doubt, 
only  in  one  idea :  but  this  is  so  absorbing 
that  it  perverts  the  evidence  of  his  senses, 
and  predominates  in  all  his  language.  It 
is  to  be  observed,  therefore,  in  relation  to 
the  nobleness  of  soul  ascribed  to  Don 
Quixote,  that  every  sentiment  he  utters  is 
borrowed  with  a  punctilious  rigpur  from 
the  romances  of  his  library ;  he  resorts  to 
them  on  every  occasion  for  precedents ; 
if  he  is  intrepidly  brave,  it  is  because  his 
madness  and  vanity  have  made  him  believe 
himself  unconquerable ;  if  he  bestows  king- 
doms, it  is  because  Amadis  would  have 
done  the  same  ;  if  he  is  honourable,  cour- 
teous, a  redresser  of  wrongs,  it  is  in  pur- 


suance of  these  prototypes,  from  whom, 
except  that  he  seems  rather  more  scrupu- 
lous in  chastity,  it  is  his  bnly  boast  not  to 
diverge.  Those  who  talk  of  the  exalted 
character  of  Don  Quixote  seem  really  to 
forge't,  that  on  these  subjects  he  has  no 
character  at  all :  he  is  the  echo  of  romance ; 
and  to  praise  him  is  merely  to  say  that 
the  tone  of  chivalry,  which  these  produc- 
tions studied  to  keep  up,  and,  in  the  hands 
of  inferior  artists,  foolishly  exaggerated, 
was  full  of  moral  dignity,  and  has,  in  a 
subdued  degree  of  force,  modelled  the 
character  of  a  man  of  honour  in  the  pres- 
ent day.  But  throughout  the  first  two 
volumes  of  Don  Quixote,  though  in  a  few 
unimportant  passages  he  talks  rationally, 
I  cannot  find  more  than  two  in  which  he 
displays  any  other  knowledge  or  strength 
of  mind  than  the  original  delineation  of 
the  character  would  lead  us  to  expect. 

48.  The  case  is  much  altered  in  the  last 
two  volumes.  Cervantes  had  acquired  an 
immense  popularity,  and  perceived  the  op- 
portunity, of  which  he  had  already  availed 
himself,  that  this  romance  gave  for  dis- 
playing his  own  mind.  He  had  become 
attached  to  a  hero  who  had  made  him 
illustrious,  and  suffered  himself  to  lose 
sight  of  the  clear  outline  he  had  once 
traced  for  Quixote's  personality.  Hence 
we  find  in  all  this  second  part,  that,  al- 
though the  lunacy  as  to  knights  errant  re- 
mains unabated,  he  is,  on  all  other  sub- 
jects, not  only  rational  in  the  low  sense 
of  the  word,  but  clear,  acute,  profound, 
sarcastic,  cool-headed.  His  philosophy  is 
elevated,  but  not  enthusiastic ;  his  imagina- 
tion is  poetical,  but  it  is  restrained  by 
strong  sense.  There  are,  in  fact,  two  Don 
Quixotes  ;  one,  whom  Cervantes  first  de- 
signed to  draw,  the  foolish  gentleman  of 
La  Mancha,  whose  foolishness  had  made 
him  frantic  ;  the  other  a  highly  gifted,  ac- 
complished model  of  the  best  chivalry, 
trained  in  all  the  court,  the  camp,  or  the 
college  could  impart,  but  scathed  in  one 
portion  of  his  mind  by  an  inexplicable 
visitation  of  monomania.  One  is  inclined 
to  ask  why  this  Don  Quixote,  who  is 
Cervantes,  should  have  been  more  likely 
to  lose  his  intellects  by  reading  romances 
than  Cervantes  himself.  Asa  matter  of 
bodily  disease,  such  an  event  is  doubtless 
possible  ;  but  nothing  can  be  conceived 
more  improper  for  fiction,  nothing  more 
incapable  of  affording  a  moral  lesson  than 
the  insanity  which  arises  wholly  from 
disease.  Insanity  is,  in  no  point  of  view, 
a  theme  for  ridicule ;  and  this  is  an  in- 
herent fault  of  the  romance  (for  those  who 
have  imagined  that  Cervantes  has  not 
rendered  Quixote  ridiculous  have  a  strange 


FROM  1600  TO  1650 


notion  of  the  word) ;  but  the  thoughtless-  '• 
ness  of  mankind,  rather  than  their  insen-  ] 
sibility — for  they  do  not  connect  madness  j 
with  misery — furnishes  some  apology  for 
the  first  two  volumes.     In  proportion  as 
we  perceive  below  the  veil  of  mental  de- 
lusion ;i  noble  intellect,  we  feel  a  painful 
sympathy  with  its  humiliation;  the  char- 
acter becomes  more  complicated  and  in- 
teresting, but  has  less  truth  and  natural- 
ness ;  an  objection  which  might  also  be  : 
made,  comparatively  speaking,  to  the  in- 1 
cidents  in  the  latter  volumes,  wherein  I [ 
do  not  find  the  admirable  probability  that 
reigns  through  the  former.     But  this  con-  j 
trast  of  wisdom  and  virtue  with  insanity  i 
in  the  same  subject  would  have  been  re- 
pulsive in  the  primary  delineation ;   as  I 
think  any  one  may  judge  by  supposing 
that  Cervantes  had,  in  the  first  chapter, 
drawn  such  a  picture  of  Quixote  as  Bou- 
terwek    and   Sismondi    have    drawn   for 
him. 

49.  I  must  therefore  venture  to  think, 
as,  I  believe,  the  world  has  generally 
thought  for  two  centuries;,  that  Cervantes 
had  no  more  profound  aim  than  he  pro- 
poses to  the  reader.  If  the  fashion  of 
reading  bad  romances  of  chivalry  pervert- 
ed the  taste  of  his  contemporaries  and 
rendered  their  language  ridiculous,  it  was 
natural  that  a  zealous  lover  of  good  liter- 
ature should  expose  this  folly  to  the  world 
by  exaggerating  its  effects  on  a  fictitious 
personage.  It  has  been  said  by  some 
modern  writer,  though  I  cannot  remember 
by  whom,  that  there  was  a  prose  side  in 
the  mind  of  Cervantes.  There  was,  in- 
deed, a  side  of  calm  strong  sense,  which 
some  took  for  unpoctical.  He  thought 
the  tone  of  those  romances  extravagant. 
It  might  naturally  occur  how  absurd  any 
one  must  appear  who  should  attempt  to 
realize  in  actual  life  the  adventures  of 
Amadis.  Already  a  novelist,  he  perreiv<  ! 
the  opportunities  this  idea  suggested.  It 
was  a  necessary  consequence  that  the 
hero  must  be  represented  as  literally  in- 
sane, since  his  conduct  would  have  been 
extravagant  beyond  the  probability  of  fic- 
tion on  any  other  hypothesis ;  and  from 
this  happy  conception  germinated  in  a 
very  prolific  mind  the  whole  history  of 
Don  Quixote.  Its  simplicity  is  perfect ; 
no  limit  could  be  found  save  the  author's 
discretion,  or  sense  that  he  had  drawn 
sufficiently  on  his  imagination;  but  the' 
death  of  Quixote,  which  Cervantes  has  ] 
been  said  to  have  determined  upon,  lest 
some  one  else  should  a  second  time  pre- 
sume to  continue  the  story,  is,  in  fact,  the, 
only  possible  termination  that  could  be 
given,  after  he  had  elevated  the  character 


to  that  pitch  of  mental  dignity  which  we 
find  iii  the  last  two  volumes. 

50.  Few  books  of  moral  philosophy  dis- 
play as  deep  an  insight  into  the  Excellence 
mechanism  of  the  mind  as  Don  »r  nu  ro- 
Quixote.      And    when    we   look  "ia"cc- 
also  at  the  fertility  of  invention,  the  gen- 
eral -probability  of  the  events,    and   the 
great  simplicity  of  the  story,  wherein  no 
artifices  are  practised  to  create  suspense 
'or  complicate  the  action,  we  shall  think 
Cervantes   fully  deserving  of  the    glory 
that  attends  this  monument  of  his  genius. 
It  is  not  merely  that  he   is  superior  to 
all  his  predecessors  and  contemporaries. 
This,  though  it  might  account  for  the  Eu- 
ropean fame  of  his  romance,  would  be  an 
inadequate  testimony  to  its  desert.     Cer- 
vantes stands  on  an  eminence  below  which 
we  must  place  the  best  of  his  successors. 
We  have  only  to  compare  him  with  Le 
Sage  or  Fielding  to  judge  of  his  vast  su- 
periority.     To    Scott,   indeed,   he   must 
yield  in  the  variety  of  his  power  ;  but  in 
the   line   of  comic   romance    we  should 
hardly  think  Scott  his  equal. 

51.  The  moral  novels  of  Cervantes,  as 
he  calls  them  (Novellas  Exem-  Minor  novels 
plares),  are  written,  I  believe,  orcervantes. 
in  a  good  style,  but  too  short,  and  con- 
structed   with   too  little  artifice  to    rivet 
our  interest.     Their  simplicity  otimr  nov- 
and  truth,  as   in  many  of  the  c!s:  Spanish 
old  novels,  have  a  certain  charm ;  but  in 
the  present  age,  our  sense  of  satiety  in 
works  of  iiction  cannot  be. overcome  but 
by  excellence.     Of  the  Spanish  comic  ro- 
mances in  the  picaresque  style,  several  re- 
main :  Justina  was  the  most  famous.    One 
that  does  not  strictly  belong  to  this  lower 
class  is  the  Marcos  de  Obregon  of  Espinel. 
This  is  supposed  to  have  suggested  much 
to  Le  Sage  in  Gil  Bias ;  in  fact,  the  first 
story  we  meet  with  is  that  of  Mergellina, 
the  physician's  wife.     The  style,  though 
not  dull,  wants  the  grace  and  neatness  of 
Le  Sage.     This  is  esteemed  one  of  the 
best  novels  that  Spain  has  pro-  „, 

i         -I       IA    i  i  .1       ""*'  tuition. 

duced.     Italy  was  no  longer  the 

seat  of  this  literature.  A  romance  of 
chivalry  by  Marini  (not  the  poet  of  that 
name),  entitled  II  Caloandro  (1640),  was 
translated  but  indifferently  into  French  by 
Scuderi,  and  has  been  praised  by  Salfi  as 
full  of  imagination,  with  characters  skil- 
fully diversified,  and  an  interesting,  well- 
conducted  story.* 

52    France   in  the   sixteenth   century, 
content  with  Amadis  de  Gaul  and  French 
the   numerous  romances  of  the  romances- 
Spanish  school,  had  contributed  Astree' 


*  Salfi,  vol.  xiv.,  p.  88. 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


very  little  to  that  literature.  But  now 
she  had  native  writers  of  both  kinds,  the 
pastoral  and  heroic,  who  completely  su- 
perseded the  models  they  had  before  them. 
Their  earliest  essay  was  the  Astree  of 
D'Urfe.  Of  this  pastoral  romance  the  first 
volume  was  published  in  1610  ;  the  second 
in  1620  ;  three  more  came  slowly  forth, 
that  the  world  might  have  due  leisure  to 
admire.  It  contains  about  5500  pages.  It 
would  be  almost  as  discreditable  to  have 
read  such  a  book  through  at  present,  as  it 
was  to  be  ignorant  of  it  in  the  age  of  Lou- 
is XIII.  Allusions,  however,  to  real  cir- 
cumstances served,  in  some  measure,  to 
lessen  the  insipidity  of  a  love-story,  which 
seems  to  equal  any  in  absurdity  and  want 
of  interest.  The  style,  and  I  can  judge  no 
farther,  having  read  but  a  few  pages, 
seems  easy  and  not  unpleasing ;  but  the 
pastoral  tone  is  insufferably  puerile,  and  a 
monotonous  solemnity  makes  us  almost 
suspect  that  one  source  of  its  popularity 
was  its  gentle  effect,  when  read  in  small 
portions  before  retiring  to  rest.  It  was, 
nevertheless,  admired  by  men  of  erudi- 
tion like  Camus  and  Huet,  or  even  by 
men  of  the  world  like  Rochefoucault.f 

53.  From  the  union  of  the  old  chival- 

rous  romance  with  this   newer 

Heroic  ro-          ,  , 

mances.  style,  the  courtly  pastoral,  sprang 
Comber-  another  kind  of  fiction,  the  French 
heroic  romance.  Three  nearly 
contemporary  writers,  Gomberville,  Cal- 
prenede, Scuderi,  supplied  a  number  of 
voluminous  stories,  frequently  historical 
in  some  of  their  names,  but  utterly  desti- 
tute of  truth  in  circumstances,  characters, 
and  manners.  Gomberville  led  the  way 
in  his  Polexandre,  first  published  in  1632, 
and  reaching  in  later  editions  to  about 
6000  pages.  "  This,"  says  a  modern  wri- 
ter, "  seems  to  have  been  the  model  of 
the  works  of  Calprenede  and  Scuderi. 
This  ponderous  work  may  be  regarded  as 
a  sort  of  intermediate  production  between 
the  later  compositions  and  the  ancient  fa- 
bles of  chivalry.  It  has,  indeed;  a  close 
affinity  to  the  heroic  romance  ;  but  many 
of  the  exploits  of  the  hero  are  as  extrav- 
agant as  those  of  a  paladin  or  knight  of 
the  round  table. vf  No  romance  in  the 
language  has  so  complex  an  intrigue,  in- 
somuch that  it  is  followed  with  difficulty  ; 
and  the  author  has,  in  successive  editions, 
capriciously  remodelled  parts  of  his  story, 
which  is  wholly  of  his  own  invention. J 

54.  Calprenede,  a  poet  of  no  contempt- 
caiprentde.  Me  powers  of  imagination,  pour- 
ed forth  his  stores  of  rapid  m- 


*  Dunlop's  History  of  Fiction,  vol.  iii,  p.  ]84 
Biographic  Universclle.     Bouterwek,  vol.  v.,  p.  295 
t  Dunlop,  iii.,  230.  }  Biogr.  Univ. 


vention  in  several  romances  more  cele- 
brated than  that  of  Gomberville.  The 
first,  whicli  is  contained  in  ten  octavo 
volumes,  is  the  Cassandra.  This  ap- 
peared in  1642,  and  was  followed  by  the 
Cleopatra,  published,  according  to  the  cus- 
tom of  romancers,  in  successive  parts, 
the  earliest  in  1646.  La  Harpe  thinks  this 
unquestionably  the  best  work  of  Calpre- 
nede ;  Bouterwek  seems  to  prefer  the 
Cassandra.  Pharamond  is  not  wholly 
his  own ;  five  out  of  twelve  volumes  be- 
long to  one  De  Vaumoriere,  a  continua- 
tor.*  Calprenede,  like  many  others,  had 
but  a  life-estate  in  the  temple  of  fame ; 
and,  more  happy,  perhaps,  than  greater 
men,  lived  out  the  whole  favour  of  the 
world,  which,  having  been  largely  show- 
ered on  liis  head,  strewed  no  memorials 
on  his  grave.  It  became,  soon  after  his 
death,  through  the  satire  of  Boileau  and 
the  influence  of  a  new  style  in  fiction,  a 
Ynatter  of  course  to  turn  him  into  ridicule. 
It  is  impossible  that  his  romances  should 
be  read  again  ;  but  those  who,  for  the 
purposes  of  general  criticism,  have  gone 
back  to  these  volumes,  find  not  a  little 
to  praise  in  his  genius,  and,  in  some  meas- 
ure, to  explain  his  popularity.  "  Calpre- 
nede," says  Bouterwek,  "  belonged  to  the 
extravagant  part}-,  which  endeavoured  to 
give  a  triumph  to  genius  at  the  expense 
of  taste,  and  by  that  very  means  played 
into  the  hands  of  the  opposite  parly,  which 
saw'nothing  so  laudable  as  the  observa- 
tion of  the  rules  which  taste  prescribed. 
We  have  only  to  become  acquainted  with 
any  one  of  the  prolix  romances  of  Cal- 
prenede— such,  for  instance,  as  the  Cas- 
sandra— to  see  clearly  the  spirit  which 
animates  the  whole  invention.  We  find 
there,  again,  the  heroism  of  chivalry,  the 
enthusiastic  raptures  of  love,  the  struggle 
of  duty  with  passion,  the  victory  of  mag- 
nanimity, sincerity,  and  humanity,  over 
force,  fraud,  and  barbarism,  in  the  genuine 
characters  and  circumstances  of  romance. 
The  events  are  skilfully  interwoven,  and 
a  truly  poetical  keeping  belongs  to  the 
whole,  however  extended  it  may  be.  The 
diction  of  Calprenede  is  a  little  monoto- 
nous, but  not  at  all  trivial,  and  seldom  af- 
fected. It  is,  like  that  of  old  romance, 
grave,  circumstantial,  somewhat  in  the 
chronicle  style,  but  picturesque,  agreea- 
ble, full  of  sensibility  and  simplicity. 
Many  passages  might,  if  versified,  find  a 
place  in  the  most  beautiful  poem  of  this 
class."! 

55.  The  honours  of  this  romantic  liter- 
ature have  long  been  shared  by  the  female 


Dunlop,  iii.,  259.          t  Bouterwek,  vi.,  230. 


FROM   1500  TO  1650. 


237 


Scuderi. 


sex     In  the  age  of  Richelieu  and  I  old  chivalrous  romance.     She,  like  Cal- 


Mazarin,  this  was  represented  by 
Mademoiselle  de  Scuderi,  a  name  very 
glorious  for  a  season,  but  which,  unfortu- 
nately, did  not,  like  that  of  Calprenede, 


prenede,  had  derived  from  this  source  the 
predominant  characteristics  of  her  per- 
sonages, an  exalted  generosity,  a  disdain 
of  all  selfish  considerations,  a  courage 


continue  to  be  sucli  during  the  whole  life-  j  which  attempts  impossibilities  and  is  re 
time  of  her  who  bore  it.  The  old  age  of  j  warded  by  achieving  them,  a  love  outra- 
.Maderaoiselle  de  Scuderi  was  ignomin-  geously  hyperbolical  in  pretence,  yet  in- 
'iously  treated  by  the  pitiless  Boileau ;  j  trinsically  without  passion;  all,  in  short 
and,  reaching  more  than  her  ninetieth  that  Cervantes  has  bestowed  on  Don 
year,  she  almost  survived  her  only  off-  j  Quixote.  Love,  however,  or  its  counter- 
spring,  those  of  her  pen.  In  her  youth  feit,  gallantry,  plays  a  still  more  leading 
she  had  been  the  associate  of  the  Ram-  part  in  the  French  romance  than  in  its 
bouillet  circle,  and  caught,  perhaps,  in  Castilian  prototype  ;  the  feats  of  heroes, 
some  measure,  from  them  what  she  gave  I  though  not  less  wonderful,  are  less  prom- 
back  with  interest,  a  tone  of  perpetual  af- 1  inent  on  the  canvass,  and  a  metaphysical 
fectation  and  a  pedantic  gallantry,  which  !  pedantry  replaces  the  pompous  metaphors 
could  not  withstand  the  first  approach  of  I  in  which  the  knight  of  sorrowful  counte- 


ridicule.  Her  first  romance  was  Ibrahim, 
published  in  1635 ;  but  the  more  celebra- 
ted were  the  Grand  Cyrus  and  the  Clelie. 
Each  of  these  two  romances  is  in  ten  vol- 
umes.* The  persons  chiefly  connected 
with  the  Hotel  Rambouillct  sat  for  their 
pictures,  as  Persians  or  Babylonians,  in 
Cyrus.  Julie  d'Angenncs  herself  bore 
the  name  of  Artenice,  by  which  she  was 
afterward  distinguished  among  her  friends; , 
and  it  is  a  remarkable  instance,  not  only  of 
the  popularity  of  these  romances,  but  of 
the  respectful  sentiment  which,  from  the 
elevation  and  purity  no  one  can  deny 
them  to  exhibit,  was  always  associated 
in  the  gravest  persons  with  their  fictions, 


nance  had  taken  so  much  delight.  The 
approbation  of  many  persons,  far  better 
judges  than  Don  Quixote,  makes  it  im- 
possible to  doubt  that  the  romances  of 
Calprenede  and  Scuderi  were  better  than 
his  library.  But,  as  this  is  the  least  pos- 
sible praise,  it  will  certainly  not  tempt  any 
one  away  from  the  rich  and  varied  repast 
of  fiction  which  the  last  and  present  cen- 
tury have  spread  before  him.  Mademoi- 
selle de  Scuderi  has  perverted  history  still 
more  than  Calprenede,  and  changed  her 
Romans  into  languishing  Parisians.  It  is 
not  to  be  forgotten,  that  the  taste  of  her 
party,  though  it  did  not,  properly  speak- 
ing, infect  Corneille,  compelled  him  to 


that  a  prelate  of  eminent  taste  and  elo- :  weaken  some  of  his  tragedies.  And  this 
quence,  Flechier,  in  his  funeral  sermon  must  be  the  justification  of  Boileau's  cut- 
on  this  lady,  calls  her  "  the  incomparable  ting  ridicule  upon  tins  truly  estimable 
Artenice. "f  Such  an  allusion  would  ap-  woman.  She  had  certainly  kept  up  a 
pear  to  us  misplaced;  but  we  may  pre-  tone  of  severe  and  high  morality,  with 
sume  that  it  was  not  so  thought.  Scu-  which  the  aristocracy  of  Paris  could  ill 
deri's  romances  seem  to  have  been  re-  j  dispense ;  but  it  was  one  not  difficult  to 
markably  the  favourites  of  the  clergy  ;  j  feign,  and  there  might  be  Tartufies  of 


Huet,   Mascaron,   Godeau,   as   much 
Flechier,  were  her  ardent  admirers. 


find,"  says  the  second  of  these,  one  of  the 
chief  ornaments  of  the  French  pulpit,  in 
writing  to  Mademoiselle  de  Scuderi,  "  so 
much  in  your  works  calculated  to  reform 
the  world,  that  in  the  sermons  I  am  now 
preparing  for  the  court,  you  will  often  be 
on  my  table  by  the  side  of  St.  Augustin 
and  St.  Bernard.");  In  the  writings  of 
this  lady  we  see  the  last  footstep  of  the 

*  Biogr.  Univ.     Dunlop.     Bouterwek. 

t  Sermons  de  Flechier,  ii.,  325  (edit.  1690).  But 
probably  Bossuet  would  not  have  stooped  to  this 
allusion. 

t  Biogr.  Univ.  Mademoiselle  de  Sender!  was 
not  gifted  by  nature  with  beauty,  or,  as  this  biogra- 
pher more  bluntly  says,  etoit  d'un  extreme  laideur. 
She  would  probably  have  wished  this  to  have  been 
otherwise,  out  carried  off  the  matter  very  well,  as 
appears  by  her  epigram  on  her  own  picture  by  Nan- 
teuil: 


sentiment  as  well  as  of  religion.  "What- 
ever is  false  in  taste  is  apt  to  be  allied  to 
what  is  insincere  in  character. 

50.  The  Argenis  of  Barclay,  a  son  of 
the  defender  of  royal  authority  Argenis  of 
against  republican  theories,  is  a  "arc-lay. 
Latin  romance,  superior  to  those  which 
the  Spanish  or  French  language  could 
boast.  It  has,  indeed,  always  been  reck- 
oned among  political  allegories.  That 
the  state  of  France,  in  the  last  years  of 
Henry  III.,  is  partially  shadowed  in  it, 
can  admit  of  no  doubt;  several  characters 
are  fatnfly  veiled,  either  by  anagram  or 
Greek  translation  of  their  names;  but, 
whether  to  avoid  the  insipidity  of  servile 
allegory,  or  to  excite  the  reader  by  per- 

Nanteuil,  en  faisant  mon  image, 
A  de  son  art  divin  signalo  le  ppuyoir: 
Je  hais  rnes  yeux  dans  mon  miroir, 
Je  les  aime  dans  son  ouvrage 


'238 

plexity,  Barclay  has  mingled  so  much  of 
mere  'fiction  with  his  story,  that  no  at- 
tempts at,  a  regular  key  to  the  whole  work 
can  be  successful,  nor,  in  fact,  does  the 
fable  of  this  romance  run  in  any  parallel 
stream  with  real  events.  His  object 
seems,  in  great  measure,  to  have  been  the 
discussion  of  political  questions  in  feigned 
dialogue.  But,  though  in  these  we  find 
no  want  of  acuteness  or  good  sense,  they 
have  not,  at  present,  much  novelty  in  our 
eyes ;  and,  though  the  style  is  really 
pleasing,  or,  as  some  have  judged,  excel- 
lent,* and  the  incidents  not  ill-contrived, 
it  might  be  hard  to  go  entirely  through  a 
Latin  romance  of  700  pages,  unless,  in- 
deed, we  had  no  alternative  given  but  the 
perusal  of  the  similar  works  in  Spanish 
or  French.  The  Argenis  was  published 
at  Rome  in  1622  :  some  of  the  personages 
introduced  by  Barclay  are  his  own  con- 
temporaries ;  a  proof  that  he  did  not  in- 
tend a  strictly  historical  allegory  of  the 
His  EU-  events  of  the  last  age.  The  Eu- 
piiormio.  phormio  of  the  same  author  re- 
sembles, in  some  degree,  the  Argenis,  but, 
with  less  of  story  and  character,  has  a 
more  direct  reference  to  European  poli- 
tics. It  contains  much  political  disquisi- 
tion, and  one  whole  book  is  employed  in 
a  description  of  the  manners  and  laws  of 
different  countries,  with  no  disguise  of 
names. 

57.  Campanella  gave  a  loose  to  his  fan- 
Campanei-  Cl^  humour  in  a  fiction,  entitled 
la's  city  of  the  City  of  the  Sun,  published  at 
the  sun.  Frankfort  in  1623,  in  imitation, 
perhaps,  of  the  Utopia.  The  City  of  the 
Sun  is  supposed  to  stand  upon  a  mountain 
situated  in  Ceylon,  under  the  equator.  A 
community  of  goods  and  women  is  estab- 
lished in  this  republic ;  the  principal  ma- 
gistrate of  which  is  styled  Sun,  and  is 
elected  after  a  strict  examination  in  all 
kinds  of  science.  Campanella  has  brought 
in  so  much  of  his  own  philosophical  sys- 
tem, that  we  may  presume  that  to  have 
been  the  object  of  this  romance.  The 
Solars,  he  tells  us,  abstained  at  first  from 
flesh,  because  they  thought  it  cruel  to  kill 
animals.  "  But  afterward,  considering 
that  it  would  be  equally  cruel  to  kill 
plants,  which  are  not  less  endowed  with 
sensation,  so  that  they  must  perish  by 
famine,  they  understood  that  ignoble 

*  Coleridge  has  pronounced  an  ardent,  and  rath- 
er excpssive  eulogy  on  the  language  of  the  Argenis, 
preferring  it  to  that  of  Li vy  or  Tacitus. — Coleridge's 
Remains,  vol.  i.,  p.  257.  I  cannot  by  any  means  go 
this  length  ;  it  has  struck  me  that  the  Latinity  is 
more  that  of  Petronius  Arbiter,  but  1  am  not  well 
enough  acquainted  with  this  writer  to  speak  confi- 
dently. The  same  observation  seems  applicable  to 
the  Euphormio. 


[  things  were  created  for  the  use  of  nobler 
i  things,  and  now  eat   all   things  without 
|  scruple."     Another  Latin  romance   had 
I  some  celebrity  in  its  day,  the  Monarchia 
!  Solipsorum,  a  satire  on  the  Jesuits  in  the 
fictitious  name  of  Lucius  Cornelius  Euro- 
peus.     It  has  been  ascribed  to  more  than 
one  person ;   the  probable  author  is  one 
Scotti,  who  had  himself  belonged  to  the - 
order.*     This  book  did  not  seem  to  me  in 
the  least  interesting;  if  it  is  so  in  any  de- 
gree, it  must  be  not  as  mere  fiction,  but  as 
a  revelation  of  secrets. 

58.  It  is  not  so  much  an  extraordinary 
as  an  unfortunate  deficiency  in  Fewbooks 
our    own    literary  annals,  that  or  fiction  in 
England  should  have  been  desti-  En§land- 
tute  of  the  comic  romance,  or  that  derived 
from  real  life,  to  a  late  period ;  since,  in 
fact,  we  may  say  the  same,  as  has  been 
seen,  of  France.     The  picaresque  novels 
of  Spain  were  thought  well  worthy  of 
translation ;  but  it  occurred  to  no  one,  or 
no  one  had  the  gift  of  genius,  to  shift  the 
scene,  and  imitate  their  delineation  of  na- 
tive manners.     Of  how  much  value  would 
have  been  a  genuine  English  novel,  the 
mirror  of  actual  life  in  the  various  ranks 
of  society,  written  under  Elizabeth  or  un- 
der the  Stuarts  !     We  should  have  seen. 
if  the  execution  had  not  been  very  coarse, 
and  the  delineation  absolutely  confined  to 
low  characters,  the  social  habits  of  our 
forefathers  better  than  by  all  our  other 
sources  of  that  knowledge,  the  plays,  the 
letters,  the  traditions  and  anecdotes,  the 
pictures  or  buildings  of  the  time.     Not- 
withstanding the  interest  all  profess  to 
take  in  the  history  of  manners,  our  no- 
tions of  them  are  generally  meager  and 
imperfect ;  and  hence  modern  works  of 
fiction  are  but  crude  and  inaccurate  de- 
signs when  they  endeavour  to  represent 
the  living  England  of  two  centuries  since. 
Even   Scott,  who  had  a  fine  instinctive 
perception  of  truth  and  nature,  and  who 
had  read  much,  does  not  appear  to  have 
seized  the  genuine  tone  of  conversation, 
and  to  have  been  a  little  misled  by  the 
style  of  Shakspeare.     This  is  rather  elab- 
orate, and  removed  from  vulgar  use  by  a 
sort  of  archaism  in  phrase  and  a  pointed 
turn  in  the  dialogue,  adapted  to  theatrical 
utterance,  but  wanting  the  ease  of  ordina- 
ry speech. 

59.  I  can  only  produce  two  books  by 
English  authors,  in  this  first  part  Mundas  A1. 
of     the     seventeenth    century,  ter  ct  idem 
which  fall  properly  under  the  ofHa11- 
class  of  novels  or  romances  ;  and  of  these 


*  Biogr.  Univ.,  arts.  Scotti  and  Inchoffer.    Nice- 
ron,  vols.  xxxv.  and  xxxix. 


FROM  1COO  TO  1G50. 


one  is  written  in  Latin.  This  is  the  Mun- 
dus  Alter  'et  Idem  of  Bishop  Hall,  an  imi- 
tation of  the  latter  and  weaker  volumes 
of  Rabelais.  A  country  in  Terra  Austra- 
lia is  divided  into  four  regions,  Crapulia, 
Viraginia,  Moronea,  and  Lavernia.  Maps 
of  the  whole  land,  and  of  particular  re- 
gions, are  given  ;  and  the  nature  of  the 
satire,  not  much  of  which  has  any  espe- 
cial reference  to  England,  may  easily  be 
collected,  it  is  not  a  very  successful  ef- 
l  fort. 

60.  Another  prelate,  or  one  who  became 
tioJ win's  such,  Francis  Godwin,  was  the 
journey  to  author  of  a  much  more  curious 

the  Moon.     story_      jt   is    (..l]]Cfl    th(,    Man    in 

the  Moon,  and  relates  the  journey  of  one 
Domingo  Gonzalez  to  that  planet.  This 
was  written  by  (i:>d\vin,  according  to  An- 
tony Wood,  while  he  was  a  student  at 
Oxford.*  By  some  internal  proofs,  it 
must  have  been  later  than  15!)9,  and  be- 
fore the  death  of  .Elizabeth  in  1603.  But 
it  was  not  published  till  1G38.  It  was 
translated  into  French,  and  became  the 
model  of  Cyrano  de  Bergerac,  as  he  was 
of  Swift.  Godwin  himself  had  no  proto- 
type, as  fir  as  1  know,  but  Lucian.  Me 
resembles  those  writers  in  the  natural  and 
veracious  tone  of  his  lies.  The  fiction  is 
rather  ingenious  and  amusing  throughout ; 
but  the  most  remarkable  part  is  the  Inpny 
conjectures,  if  we  must  say  no  more,  of 
his  philosophy.  Not  only  does  the  writer 
declare  positively  for  the  Copernican  sys- 
tem, which  was  uncommon  at  that  time, 
but  he  lias  surprisingly  understood  the 
principle  of  gravitation,  it  being  distinctly 
supposed  1  ;:;it  the  earth's  attraction  dimin- 
ishes with  the  distance.  Nor  is  the  fol- 
lowing passage  less  curious.  "  I  must  let 
you  understand  that  the  globe  of  the  moon 
is  not  altogether  destitute  of  an  attractive 
power ;  but  it  is  far  weaker  than  that  of 
the  earth  ;  as,  if  a  man  do  but  spring  up- 
ward with  all  his  force,  as  dancers  do 
when  they  show  their  activity  by  caper- 
ing, he  shall  be  able  to  mount  fifty  or  sixty 
feet  high,  and  then  he  is  quite  beyond  all 
attraction  of  the  moon."  By  this  device 
Gonzalez  returns  from  his  sojourn  in  the 
latter,  though  it  required  a  more  complex 
device  to  bring  him  thither.  "  The  moon," 
he  observes,  "  is  covered  with  a  sea,  ex- 
cept the  parts  which  seem  somewhat 

*  Athense  Oxonienses,  vol.  ii..  col.  558.  It  is  re- 
markable that  Mr.  Dunlop  has  been  ignorant  of 
Godwin's  claim  to  this  work,  and  takes  Dominic 
Gonzalez  for  the  real  author.— Hist,  of  Fiction,  iii., 


darker  to  us.  and  are  dry  land."  A  con- 
trary hypothesis  came  afterward  to  pre- 
vail ;  but  we  must  not  expect  everything 
from  our  ingenious  young  student. 

61.  Though  I  can  mention  nothing  else 
in  English  which  comes  exactly  Howcll,8 
within  our  notions  of  a  romance,  ]>oii.>naN 
we  may  advert  to  the  Dodona's  Grove- 
Grove  of  James  Howell.  This  is  a 
strange  allegory,  without  any  ingenuity 
in  maintaining  the  analogy  between  the 
outer  and  inner  story,  which  alone  can 
give  a  reader  any  pleasure  in  allegorical 
writing.  The  subject  is  the  state  of  Eu- 
rope,  especially  of  England,  about  1640, 
under  the  guise  of  animated  trees  in  a 
forest.  The  style  is  like  the  following: 
li  The  next  morning  the  royal  olive  sent 
some  prime  elms  to  attend  Prince  Roco- 
lino  in  quality  of  officers  of  state ;  and  a 
little  after  he  was  brought  to  the  royal 
palace  in  the  same  state  Elaiana's  kings 
use  to  be  attended  the  day  of  their  coro- 
nation." The  contrivance  is  all  along  so 
clumsy  and  unintelligible  ;  the  invention  so 
poor  and  absurd ;  the  story,  if  story  there 
be,  so  dull  an  echo  of  well-known  events, 
that  it  is  impossible  to  reckon  Dodona's 
Grove  anything  but  an  entire  failure. 
Howell  has  no  wit,  but  he  has  abundance 
of  conceits,  flat  and  commonplace  enough. 
With  all  this,  he  was  a  man  of  some  sense 
and  observation.  His  letters  are  enter- 
taining, but  they  scarcely  deserve  consid- 
eration in  this  volume. 

6-2.  It  is  very  possible  that  some  small 
works  belonging  to  this  extensive  Ach-cnm™ 
class  have  been  omitted,  which  of  Baron  da 
my  readers,  or  myself  on  second  Ficnesle- 
consideration,  might  think  not  unworthy 
of  notice.  It  is  also  one  so  miscellane- 
ous, that  we  might  fairly  doubt  as  to  some 
which  have  a  cc  'tain  claim  to  be  admitted 
into  it.  Such  are  the  Adventures  of  the 
Baron  de  Freneste,  by  the  famous  Agrippa 
d'Aubigne  (whose  autobiography,  by-the- 
way,  has  at  least  the  liveliness  of  fiction) ; 
a  singular  book,  written  in  dialogue,  where 
an  imaginary  Gascon  baron  recounts  his 
tales  of  the  camp  and  the  court.  He  is 
made  to  speak  a  patois  not  quite  easy  for 
us  to  understand,  and  not,  perhaps,  worth 
the  while  ;  but  it  seems  to  contain  much 
that  illustrates  the  state  of  France  about 
the  beginning  of  the  seventeenth  century. 
Much  in  this  book  is  satirical;  and  the 
satire  falls  on  the  Catholics,  whom  Fa>- 
neste,  a  mere  foolish  gentleman  of  Gas- 
cony,  is  made  to  defend  against  an  acuto 
Huguenot. 


240 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

HISTORY    OF    MATHEMATICAL    AND    PHYSICAL    SCIENCE    FROM    1600    TO    1650. 


SECTION  I. 

Invention  of  Logarithms  by  Napier. — New  Geome- 
try of  Kepler  and  Cavalien. — Algebra.— Harriott. 
—  Dsscartes. — Astronomy. —Kepler. —Galileo. — 
Copernican  System  begins  to  prevail. — Cartesian 
Theory  of  the  World.— Mechanical  Discoveries 
of  Galileo. — Descartes. — Hydrostatics. — Optics. 

1.  IN  the  first  volume  of  this  work  we 
etatn  or  sci-  have  followed  the  progress  of 
ence  in  the     mathematical  and  physical  sci- 

16(11  century.    ence  d(mn  to   the  c]ose  of  the 

sixteenth  century.  The  ancient  geome- 
ters had  done  so  much  in  their  own  prov- 
ince of  lines  and  figures,  that  little  more 
of  importance  could  be  effected,  except  by 
new  methods  extending  the  limits  of  the 
science,  or  derived  from  some  other 
source  of  invention.  Algebra  had  yielded 
a  more  abundant  harvest  to  the  genius  of 
the  sixteenth  century  ;  yet  something 
here  seemed  to  be  wanting  to  give  that 
science  a  character  of  utility  and  refer- 
ence to  general  truth  ;  nor  had  the  for- 
mulas of  letters  and  radical  Signs  that 
perceptible  beauty  which  often  wins  us  to 
delight  in  geometrical  theorems  of  as  lit- 
tle apparent  usefulness  in  their  results. 
Meanwhile,  the  primary  laws,  to  which  all 
mathematical  reasonings,  in  their  relation 
to  physical  science,  must  be  accommoda- 
ted, lay  hidden,  or  were  erroneously  con- 
ceived ;  and  none  of  these  sciences,  with 
the  exception  of  astronomy,  were  beyond 
their  mere  infancy,  either  as  to  observa- 
tion or  theory.* 

2.  Astronomy,  cultivated   in  the  latter 
Tediousness  part   of  the   sixteenth   century 
or  caicuis-    with  much   industry   and   suc- 
Uons-  cess,  was  repressed,  among  oth- 
er more  insuperable  obstacles,  by  the  la- 
borious   calculations    it    required.      The 
trigonometrical  tables  of  sines,  tangents, 
and  secants,  if  they  were  to  produce  any 
tolerable  accuracy  in  astronomical  obser- 
vation, must  be  computed  to  six  or  seven 
places  of  decimals,  upon  which  the  regu- 
lar processes  of  multiplication  and  divis- 
ion  were    perpetually    to   be    employed. 
The  consumption  of  time,  as  well  as  risk 
of  error  which  this  occasioned,  was  a  se- 
rious evil  to  the  practical  astronomer. 

*  In  this  chapter,  my  obligations  to  Montucla  are 
so  continual,  that  1  shall  make  no  single  reference 
to  his  Histoire  de  Mathematiqnes,  which  must  be 
ierstood  to  be  my  principal  authority. 


3.  John  Napier,  laird  of  Merchiston,  after 
several  attempts  to  diminish  this  . 

labour  by  devices  of  his  invention,  invention 
was  happy  enough  to  discover  of  lo^a- 
his  famous  method  of  logarithms.  mhins- 
This  he  first  published  at  Edinburgh  in 
1614.  with  the  title,  Logarithmorutn  Can- 
onis  Descriptio,  seu  Arithmeticarum  Sup- 
putationum  Mirabilis  Abbreviatio.  He 
died  in  1618  ;  and  in  a  posthumous  edition, 
entitled  Mirifici  Logarithmorum  Canonis 
Descriptio,  1618.  the  method  of  construc- 
tion, which  had  been  at  first  withheld,  is 
given ;  and  the  system  itself,  in  conse- 
quence, perhaps,  of  the  suggestion  of  his 
friend  Briggs,  underwent  some  change. 

'4.  The  invention  of  logarithms  is  one 
of  the  rarest  instances  of  sagacity  Their  na- 
in  the  history  of  mankind ;  and  it  (ure- 
has  been  justly  noticed  as  remarkable, 
that  it  issued  complete  from  the  mind  of 
its  author,  and  has  not  received  any  im- 
provement since  his  time.  It  is  hardly 
necessary  to  say,  that  logarithms  are  a 
series  of  numbers,  arranged  in  tables  par- 
allel to  the  series  of  natural  numbers, 
and  of  such  a  construction,  that,  by  adding 
the  logarithms  of  two  of  the  latter,  we  ob- 
tain the  logarithm  of  their  product ;  by 
subtracting  the  logarithm  of  one  number 
from  that  of  another,  we  obtain  that  of 
their  quotient.  The  longest  processes, 
therefore,  of  multiplication  and  division 
are  spared,  and  reduced  to  one  of  mere 
addition  or  subtraction. 

5.  It  has  been  supposed  that  an  arith- 
metical fact,  said  to  be  mention-  Property  of 
ed  by  Archimedes,  and  which  is  numbers  dis- 
certainly  pointed  out  in  the  work  ?.ovrei:ed  bv 

•',/-,  -..        UT-     Sfifeliiw. 

of  an  early  German  writer,  Mi- 
chael Stifelius,  put  Napier  in  the  right 
course  for  this  invention.  It  will,  at  least, 
serve  to  illustrate  the  principle  of  loga- 
rithms. Stifelius  shows  that  if,  in  a  geo- 
metrical progression,  we  add  the  indices 
of  any  terms  in  the  series,  we  shall  obtain 
the  index  of  the  products  of  those  terms. 
Thus,  if  we  compare  the  geometrical  pro- 
gression, 1,  2,  4,  8,  16,  32,  64,  with  the 
arithmetical  one  which  numbers  the  pow- 
ers of  the  common  ratio,  namely,  0,  1,2, 
3,  4,  5,  6,  we  see  that,  by  adding  two  terms 
of  the  latter  progression,  as  2  and  3,  to 
which  4  and  8  correspond  in  the  geometri- 
cal series,  we  obtain  5,  to  which  32,  the 


FROM  1600  TO  1650. 


241 


product  of  4  by  8,  corresponds ;  and  the 
quotient  would  be  obtained  in  a  similar 
manner.  But  though  this,  whicl  becomes 
self-evident  when  algebraical  expressions 
are  employed  for  the  terms  of  a  series, 
seemed  at  the  time  rather  a  curious  prop- 
erty of  numbers  in  geometrical  progres- 
sion, it  was  of  little  value  in  facilitating 
calculation. 

6.  If  Napier  had  simply  considered  num- 
Extended  to  bers  in  themselves  as  repeti- 
magnitudes,  tions  of  unity,  which  is  their  only 
intelligible  definition,  it  does  not  seem  that 
he  could  ever  have  carried  this  observation 
upon  progressive  series  any  farther.  Nu- 
merically understood,  the  terms  of  a  geo- 
metrical progression  proceed  per  saltum ; 
and  in  the  series  2,  4,  8,  16,  it  is  as  un- 
meaning to  say  that  3,  5,  6,  7,  9,  in  any 
possible  sense,  have  a  place,  or  can  be  in- 
troduced to  any  purpose,  as  that  |,  1,  i,  T'?, 
or  other  fractions  are  true  numbers  at  all.* 
The  case,  however,  is  widely  different 
when  we  use  numbers  as  merely  the  signs 
of  something  capable  of  continuous  in- 
crease or  decrease  ;  of  space,  of  duration, 
of  velocity.  These  are,  for  our  conve- 
nience, divided  by  arbitrary  intervals,  to 
which  the  numerical  unit  is  made  to  cor- 
respond. But  as  these  intervals  are  indefi- 
nitely divisible,  the  unit  is  supposed  capa- 
ble of  division  into  fractional  parts,  each 
of  them  a  representation  of  the  ratio  which 
a  portion  of  the  interval  bears  to  the 
whole.  And  thus,  also,  we  must  see,  that 
as  fractions  of  the  unit  bear  a  relation  to 
uniform  quantity,  so  all  the  integral  num- 
bers, which  do  not  enter  into  the  terms  of 
a  geometrical  progression,  correspond  to 
certain  portions  of  variable  quantity.  If  a 
body  failing  down  an  inclined  plane  ac- 
quires a  velocity  at  one  point  which  would 
carry  it  through  two  feet  in  a  second,  and 
at  a  lower  point  one  which  would  carry  it 
through  four  feet  in  the  same  time,  there 
must,  by  the  nature  of  a  continually  ac- 


*  Few  hooks  of  arithmetic,  or  even  algebra,  as 
far  as  I  know,  draw  the  reader's  attention  at  the 
outset  to  this  essential  distinction  between  discrete 
and  continuous  quantity,  which  is  sure  to  be  over- 
looked in  all  their  subsequent  reasonings.  Wallis 
has  done  it  very  well ;  after  stating  very  clearly 
that  there  are  no  proper  numbers  but  integers,  he 
meets  the  objection,  that  fractions  are  called  inter- 
mediate numbers.  Concedo  quidem  sic  responderi 
posse  ;  concedo  etiam  numeros  quos  fractos  vocant, 
eive  fractiones.  esse  quidam  uni  et  nulli  quasi  inter- 
ruedios.  Sec'  addo,  quod  jam  transitur  us  a\\o  ytvo;. 
Kespondetr.r  enim  non  de  quot,  se.d  de  auanto. 
Portinet  ieitur  hasc  responsio  proprie  loquendo,  non 
tarn  ad  quantitatem  discretam,  sen  numerurn,  quam 
ad  contmuain ;  prout  hora  supponitiir  esse  quid 
continuum- in  partes  dtvisibile,  quamvis  quidem 
harum  partium  ad  totum  ratio  numeris  exprimatur. 
— Mathesis  Universalis,  c.  1. 
VOL.  II.— II  K 


celerated  motion,  be  some  point  between 
these  where  the  velocity  might  be  repre- 
sented by  the  number  three.  Hence, 
wherever  the  numbers  of  a  common  geo- 
metrical series,  like  2,  4,  8,  16,  represent 
velocities  at  certain  intervals,  the  inter- 
mediate numbers  will  represent  velocities 
at  intermediate  intervals  ;  and  thus  it  may 
be  said  that  all  numbers  are  terms  of  a 
geometrical  progression,  but  one  which 
should  always  be  considered  as  what  it 
is :  a  progression  of  continuous,  not  dis- 
crete quantity,  capable  of  being  indicated 
by  number,  but  not  number  itself. 

7.  It  was  a  necessary  consequence,  that 
if  all  numbers  could  he  treated  as 

terms  of  a  progression,  and  if  : 
their  indices  could  be  found  like  those  of 
an  ordinary  series,  the  method  of  finding 
products  of  terms  by  addition  of  indices 
would  be  universal.  The  means  that  Na- 
pier adopted  for  this  purpose  were  sur- 
prisingly ingenious  ;  but  it  would  be  diffi- 
cult to  make  them  clear  to  those  who  are 
likely  to  require  it,  especially  without  the 
use  of  lines.  It  may  suffice  to  say  that 
his  process  was  laborious  in  the  highest 
degree,  consisting  of  the  interpolation  of 
6931472  mean  proportionals  between  1  and 
2,  and  repeating  a  similar  and  still  more 
tedious  operation  for  all  prime  numbers. 
The  logarithms  of  other  numbers  were 
easily  obtained,  according  to  the  funda- 
mental principle  of  the  invention,  by  add- 
ing their  factors.  Logarithms  appear  to 
have  been  so  called,  because  they  are  the 
sum  of  these  mean  ratios,  Aoywv  apiO/wc;. 

8.  In  the  original  tables  of  Napier  the 
logarithm  of  10  was  3.0225850.  Tables  or 
In  those  which  were  published  Napier  and 
afterward  (1618),  he  changed  this  **"<&*• 
for  1.0000000,  making,  of  course,  that  of 
100,  2.0000000,  and  so  forth.     This  con- 
struction has  been  followed  since  ;    but 
those  of  the  first  method  are  not  wholly 
neglected;   they  are  called  hyperbolical 
logarithms,  from  expressing  a  property  of 
that  curve.     Napier  found  a  coadjutor  well 
worthy  of  him  in  Henry  Briggs,  professor 
of  geometry  at  Gresham  College.    It  is  un- 
certain from  which  of  them  the  change  in 
the  form  of  logarithms  proceeded.    Briggs, 
in  1618,  published  a  table  of  logarithms  up 
to  1000,  calculated  by  himself.     This  was 
followed   in   1624  by  his  greater  work, 
Arithmetica  Logarithmica,  containing  the 
logarithms    of   all    natural    numbers    as 
high  as  20.000,  and  again  from  90,000  to 
100,000.    These  are  calculated  to  fourteen 
places  of  decimals,  thus  reducing  the  error, 
which,  strictly  speaking,  must  always  ex- 
ist from  the  principle  of  logarithmical  con 
struction,  to  an  almost  infinitesimal  frac- 


242 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


tion.  He  had  designed  to  publish  a  second 
table,  with  the  logarithms  of  sines  and 
tangents  to  the  100th  part  of  a  degree. 
This  he  left  in  a  considerably  advanced 
state  ;  and  it  was  published  by  Gellibrand 
in  1633.  Gunter  had,  as  early  as  1620, 
given  the  logarithms  of  sines  and  tangents 
on  the  sexagesimal  scale  as  far  as  seven 
decimals.  Vlacq,aDutch  bookseller, print- 
ed in  1628  j.  translation  of  Briggs's  Arith- 
metica  Logarithmica,  filling  up  the  interval 
from  20,000  to  90.000  with  logarithms  cal- 
culated to  eleven  decimals.  He  published, 
also,  in  1633,  his  Trigonometrica  Artificia- 
lis,  the  most  useful  work,  perhaps,  that 
had  appeared,  as  it  incorporated  the  la- 
bours of  Briggs  and  Gellibrand,  but  with 
no  great  regard  to  the  latter's  fair  advan- 
tage. Kepler  came  like  a  master  to  the 
subject ;  and  observing  that  some  foreign 
mathematicians  disliked  the  theory  upon 
which  Napier  had  explained  the  nature  of 
logarithms,  as  not  rigidly  geometrical, 
gave  one  of  his  own  to  which  they  could 
not  object.  But  it  may  probably  be  said 
that  the  very  novelty  to  which  the  disci- 
ples of  the  ancient  geometry  were  averse, 
the  introduction  of  the  notion  of  velocity 
into  mathematical  reasoning,  was  that 
which  linked  the  abstract  science  of  quan- 
tity with  nature,  and  prepared  the  way 
for  that  expansive  theory  of  infinites 
which  bears  at  once  upon  the  subtlest 
truths  that  can  exercise  the  understanding, 
and  the  most  evident  that  can  fall  under 
the  senses. 

9.  It  was,  indeed,  at  this  time  that  the 
Kepler's  new  modern  geometry,  which,  if  it 
geometry.  deviates  something  from  the 
clearness  and  precision  of  the  ancient,  has 
incomparably  the  advantage  over  it  in  its 
reach  of  application,  took  its  rise.  Kepler 
was  the  man  that  led  the  way.  He  pub- 
lished in  1615  his  Nova  Stereometria  Do- 
liorum,  a  treatise  on  the  capacity  of  casks. 
In  this  he  considers  the  various  solids 
which  may  be  formed  by  the  revolution 
of  a  segment  of  a  conic  section  round  a 
line  which  is  not  its  axis,  a  condition  not 
unfrequent  in  the  form  of  a  cask.  Many 
of  the  problems  which  he  starts  he  is  un- 
able to  solve.  But  what  is  most  remark- 
able in  this  treatise  is,  that  he  here  sug- 
gests the  bold  idea  that  a  circle  may  be 
deemed  to  be  composed  of  an  infinite  num- 
ber of  triangles,  having  their  bases  in  the 
circumference,  and  their  common  apex  in 
the  centre  ;  a  cone,  in  like  manner,  of  in- 
finite pyramids,  and  a  cylinder  of  infinite 
prisms.*  The  ancients  had  shown,  as  is 
well  known,  that  a  polygon  inscribed  in  a 


circle,  and  another  described  about  it,  may, 
by  continual  bisection  of  their  sides,  be 
made  to  approach  nearer  to  each  other 
than  any  assignable  differences.  The 
circle  itself  lay,  of  course,  between  them. 
Euclid  contents  himself  with  saying  that 
the  circle  is  greater  than  any  polygon  that 
can  be  inscribed  in  it,  and  less  than  any 
polygon  that  can  be  described  about  it. 
The  method  by  which  they  approximated 
to  the  curve  space  by  continual  increase 
or  diminution  of  the  rectilineal  figure  was 
called  exhaustion,  and  the  space  itself  is 
properly  called,  by  later  geometers,  the 
limit.  As  curvilineal  and  rectilineal  spaces 
cannot  possibly  be  compared  by  means  of 
superposition,  or  by  showing  that  their 
several  constituent  portions  could  be  made 
to  coincide,  it  had  long  been  acknowledged 
impossible  by  the  best  geometers  to  quad- 
rate by  a  direct  process  any  curve  surface. 
j  But  Archimedes  had  found,  as  to  the  para- 
!  bola,  that  there  was  a  rectilineal  space,  of 
!  which  he  could  indirectly  demonstrate 
|  that  it  was  equal,  that  is,  could  not  be  un- 
equal, to  the  curve  itself. 

10.  In  this  state  of  the  general  problem, 
the  ancient  methods  of  indefinite  Its  Differ, 
approximation  having  prepared  ence  from 
the  way,  Kepler  came  to  his  solu-  the  anclem- 
tion  of  questions  which  regarded  the  ca- 
pacity of  vessels.  According  to  Fabroni, 
he  supposed  solids  to  consist  of  an  infinite 
number  of  surfaces,  surfaces  of  an  infinity 
of  lines,  lines  of  infinite  points.*  If  this 
be  strictly  true,  he  must  have  left  little,  in 
point  of  invention,  for  Cavalieri.  So  long 
as  geometry  is  employed  as  a  method  ol 
logic,  an  exercise  of  the  understanding  on 
those  modifications  of  quantity  which  the 
imagination  cannot  grasp,  such  as  points, 
lines,  infinites,  it  must  appear  almost  an 
offensive  absurdity  to  speak  of  a  circle  as 
a  polygon  with  an  infinite  number  of  sides. 
But  when  it  becomes  the  handmaid  of 
practical  art,  or  even  of  physical  science, 
there  can  be  no  other  objection  than  al- 
ways arises  from  incongruity  and  incor- 
rectness of  language.  It  has  been  found 
possible  to  avoid  the  expressions  attributed 
to  Kepler;  but  they  seem  to  denote,  in 
fact,  nothing  more  than  those  of  Euclid 
or  Archimedes :  that  the  difference  be- 
tween a  magnitude  and  its  limit  may  be 
regularly  diminished,  till,  without  strictly 


Fabroni,  Vitee  Ita'orum,  i.,  272. 


*  Idem  quoque  solida  cogitavit  ex  infinite  numero 
superficierum  existere,  superficies  aiitem  ex  lineis 
infinitis,  ac  lineis  ex  infinitis  punctis.  Ostendit 
ipse  quantum  ea  ratione  brevior  fieri  via  possit  ad 
vera  quoedam  captu  difficiliora,  cum  antiquarum 
demonstrationnm  circuitus  ac  methodus  inter  ^e 
comparand!  figuras  circumscriptas  et  inscriptas  iis 
planis  aut  soliriis,  quse  mensuranda  essent,  ita  de- 
clinarentur. — Ibid. 


FROM  1600  TO  1650. 


243 


vanishing,  it  becomes  less  than  any  as- 
signable quantity,  and  may  consequently 
be  disregarded  in  reasoning  upon  actual 
bodies. 

11.  Galileo,  says  Fabroni,  trod  in  the 
Adopted  by  steps  of  Kepler,  and  in  his  first 
Galileo.        dialogue    on   mechanics,    when 
treating  on  a  cylinder  cut  out  of  a  hemi- 
sphere, became  conversant  with  indivisi- 
bles (familiarem  habere  ccepit  cum  indivisi- 
bilibus  usum).    But  in  that  dialogue  he  con- 
fused the  metaphysical  notions  of  divisible 
quantity,  supposing  it  to  be  composed  of 
unextended  indivisibles ;  and,  not  ventu- 
ring to  affirm  that  infinites  could  be  equal 
or  unequal  to  one  another,  he  preferred  to 
say  that  words  denoting  equality  or  ex- 
cess could  only  be  used  as  to  finite  quan- 
tities.   In  his  fourth  dialogue  on  the  centre 
of  gravity,  he  comes  back  to  the  exhaust- 
ive method  of  Archimedes.* 

12.  Cavalieri,  professor  of  mathematics 
Extended  by  at  Bologna,  the  generally  repu- 
Cavaiieri.      ted  father  of  the  new  geometry, 
though  Kepler  seems  to  have  so  greatly  an- 
ticipated him,  had  completed  his  method 
of  indivisibles  in  1626.    The  book  was  not 
published  till  1835.     His  leading  principle 
is,  that  solids  are  composed  of  an  infinite 
number  of  surfaces,  placed  one  above  an- 
other as  their  indivisible  elements.     Sur- 
faces are  formed  in  like  manner  by  lines, 
and  lines  by  points.     This,  however,  he 
asserts  with  some  excuse  and  explana- 
tion ;  declaring  that  he  does  not  use  the 
words  so  strictly  as  to  have  it  supposed 
that  divisible  quantities  truly  and  literally 
consist  of  indivisibles,  but  that  the  ratio 
of  solids  is  the  same  as  that  of  an  infinite 
number  of  surfaces,  and  that  of  surfaces 
the  same  as  of  an  infinite  number  of  lines  ; 
and,  to  put  an  end  to  cavil,  he  demonstra- 
ted that  the  same  consequences  would 
follow  if  a  method  should  be  adopted  bor- 
rowing nothing  from  the  consideration  of 
indivisibles.!     This  explanation  seems  to 


*  Fabroni,  Vita;  Italorum.  i.,  272. 

t  Non  eo  rigore  a  se  voces  adhiberi,  ac  si  dividuae 
quantitates  vere  ac  proprie  ex  indivisibilibus  existe- 
rent ;  verumtarnen  id  sibi  duntaxat  velle,  ut  propor- 
tio  solidorum  eadem  esset  ac  ratio  superficierum 
omnium  nurnero  infinitarum,  et  proportio  superfi- 
cierum eadem  ac  ilia  infinitarum  linearum  :  denique 
ut  omnia,  quae  contra  dici  poterant,  in  radice  praeci- 
deret,  demonstravit,  easdem  omnino  consecutiones 
erui,  si  methodi  aut  rationes  adhiberentur  omnino 
diversoe,  qua?  nihil  ab  indivisibilium  consideratione 
penderent. — Fabroni. 

II  n'est  aucun  cas  dans  la  geometric  des  indivisi- 
bles, qu'on  ne  puisse  facilement  reduire  h.  la  forme 
ancienne  de  demonstration.  Ainsi,  c'est  s'arr4ter 
a  1'ecorce  que  de  chicaner  sur  le  mot  d'indivisibles. 
11  est  impropre  si  1'on  veut,  mais  il  n'en  resulte  au- 
cun danger  pour  la  geometric  ;  et  loin  de  conduire 
a  1'erreur,  cette  methode,  au  contraire,  a  ete  utile 
pour  atteindre  a  des  v^rites  qui  avoient  6chappe 


have  been  given  after  his  method  had  been 
attacked  by  Guldin  in  1640. 

13.  It  was  a  main  object  of  Cavalieri's 
geometry  to  demonstrate  the  pro-  Applied  to 
portions  of  different  solids.  This  'be  ratios 
is  partly  done  by  Euclid,  but  gen-  of  solids- 
e  rally  in  an  indirect  manner.  A  cone,  ac- 
cording to  Cavalieri,  is  composed  of  an  in- 
finite number  of  circles  decreasing  from 
the  base  to  the  summit,  a  cylinder  of  an 
infinite  number  of  equal  circles.  He 
seeks,  therefore,  the  ratio  of  the  sum  of 
all  the  former  to  that  of  all  the  latter. 
The  method  of  summing  an  infinite  series 
of  terms  in  arithmetical  progression  was 
already  known.  The  diameters  of  the 
circles  in  the  cone,  decreasing  uniformly, 
were  in  arithmetical  progression,  and  the 
circles  would  be  as  their  squares.  He 
found  that  when  the  number  of  terms  is 
infinitely  great,  the  sum  of  all  the  squares 
described  on  lines  in  arithmetical  pro- 
gression is  exactly  one  third  of  the  great- 
est square  multiplied  by  the  nutnber  of 
terms.  Hence  the  cone  is  one  third  of  a 
cylinder  of  the  same  base  and  altitude,  and 
the  same  may  be  shown  of  other  solids. 

14.  This  bolder  geometry  was  now  very 
generally  applied  in  difficult  in-  Problem  or 
vestigations.  A  proof  was  given  the  cycloid, 
in  the  celebrated  problems  relative  to  the 
cycloid,  which  served  as  a  test  of  skill  to 
the  mathematicians  of  that  age.  The  cy- 
cloid is  the  curve  described  by  a  point  in 
a  circle,  while  it  makes  one  revolution 
along  a  horizontal  base,  as  in  the  case  of 
a  carriage-wheel.  It  was  far  more  diffi- 
cult to  determine  its  area.  It  was  at  first 
taken  for  the  segment  of  a  circle.  Galileo 
considered  it,  but  with  no  success.  Mer- 
senne,  who  was  also  unequal  to  the  prob- 
lem, suggested  it  to  a  very  good  geome- 
ter, Roberval,  who,  after  some  years,  in 
1634,  demonstrated  that  the  area  of  the 
cycloid  is  equal  to  thrice  the  area  of  the 
generating  circle.  Mersenne  communi- 
cated this  discovery  to  Descartes,  who, 
treating  the  matter  as  easy,  sent  a  short 
demonstration  of  his  own.  On  Rober- 
val's  intimating  that  he  had  been  aided  by 
a  knowledge  of  the  solution,  Descartes 
found  out  the  tangents  of  the  curve,  and 
challenged  Roberval  and  Fermat  to  do  the 
same.  Fermat  succeeded  in  this ;  but 
Roberval  could  not  achieve  the  problem, 
in  which  Galileo  also  and  Cavalieri  fail- 
ed ;  though  it  seems  to  have  been  solved 
afterward  by  Viviani.  "  Such,"  says  Mon- 
tucla,  "  was  the  superiority  of  Descartes 
over  all  the  geometers  of  his  age,  that 


jusqu'alors  aux  efforts  des  geometres.-^Montucla, 
vol.  ii ,  p.  39. 


244 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


questions  which  most  perplexed  them 
caused  him  but  an  ordinary  degree  of  at- 
tention." In  this  problem  of  the  tan- 
gents (and  it  might  not.  perhaps,  have 
been  worth  while  to  mention  it  otherwise 
in  so  brief  a  sketch),  Descartes  made  use 
of  the  principle  introduced  by  Kepler, 
considering  the  curve  as  a  polygon  of  an 
infinite  number  of  sides,  so  that  an  infi- 
nitely small  arc  is  equal  to  its  chord.  The 
cycloid  has  been  called  by  Montucla  the 
Helen  of  geometers.  This  beauty  was  at 
least  the  cause  of  war,  and  produced  a 
long  controversy.  The  Italians  claim  the 
original  invention  as  their  own  ;  but  Mon- 
tucla seems  to  have  vindicated  the  right 
of  France  to  every  solution  important  in 
geometry.  Nor  were  the  friends  of  Ro- 
berval  and  Fermat  disposed  to  acknowl- 
edge so  much  of  the  exclusive  right  of 
Descartes  as  was  challenged  by  his  disci- 
ples. Pascal,  in  his  history  of  the  cy- 
cloid, enters  the  lists  on  the  side  of  Ro- 
berval.  This  was  not  published  till  1658. 

15.  Without  dwelling  more  minutely  on 
Progress  of  geometrical  treatises  of  less  im- 
aigebra.      portance,  though  in  themselves 
valuable,  such  as  that  of  Gregory  St.  Vin- 
cent in   1647,  or  the   Cyclometricus  of 
Willebrod  Snell  in  1621,  we  come  to  the 
progress  of  analysis  during  this  period. 
The  works  of  Vieta,  it  may  be  observed, 
were  chiefly  published  after  the  year  1600. 
They  left,  as  must  be  admitted,  not  much 
in  principle  for  the  more  splendid  gener- 
alizations of  Harriott  and  Descartes.     It 
is  not  unlikely  that  the  mere  employment 
of  a  more  perfect  notation  would  have  led 
the  acute  mind  of  Vieta  to  truths  which 
seem   to   us    who  are    acquainted   with 
them  but  a  little  beyond  what  he  discov- 
ered. 

16.  Briggs,in  his  Arithmetica  Logarith- 
Briggs.   mica,  was  the  first  who  clearly  sho  w- 
Girard.   e(j  what  is  called  the  Binomial  The- 
orem, or  a  compendious  method  of  invo- 
lution, by  means  of  the  necessary  order 
of  coefficients  in  the  successive  powers 
of  a  binomial  quantity.     Cardan  had  par- 
tially, and  Vieta  much  more  clearly,  seen 
this,  nor  was  it  likely  to  escape  one  so 
observant  of  algebraic  relations  as  the  lat- 
ter.    Albert  Girard,  a  Dutchman,  in  his 
Invention  Nouvelle  en  Algebre,  1629,  con- 
ceived a  better  notion  of  negative  roots 
than  his  predecessors.     Even  Vieta  had 
not  paid  attention  to  them  in  any  solution. 
Girard,  however,  not  only  assigns  their 
form,  and  shows  that  in  a  certain  class  of 
cubic  equations  there  must  always  be  one 
or  two  of  this  description,  but  uses  this 
remarkable  expression  :  "  A  negative  so- 
lution means,  in  geometry,  that  the  minus 


recedes  as  the  plus  advances."*  It  seems 
manifest  that,  till  some  such  idea  sug- 
gested itself  to  the  minds  of  analysts,  the 
consideration  of  negative  roots,  though 
they  could  not  possibly  avoid  perceiving 
their  existence,  would  merely  have  con- 
fused their  solutions.  It  cannot,  there- 
fore, be  surprising,  that  not  only  Cardan 
and  Vieta,  but  Harriott  himself,  should 
have  disregarded  them. 

17.  Harriott,  the  companion  of  Sir  Wal- 
ter Raleigh   in  Virginia,  and  the  Harriotu 
friend  of  the  Earl  of  Northumber- 
land, in  whose  house  he  spent  the  latter 
part  of  his  life,  was  destined  to  make  the 
last  great  discovery  in  the  pure  science  of 
algebra.      Though  he  is  mentioned  here 
after  Girard,  since  the  Artis  Analyticae 
Praxis  was  not  published  till   1631,  this 
was  ten  years  after  the  author's  death. 
Harriott  arrived  at  a  complete  theory  of 
the  genesis  of  equations,  which  Cardan 
and  Vieta  had  but  partially  conceived.    By 
bringing  all  the  terms  on  one  side,  so  as 
to  make  them  equal  to  zero,  he  found  out 
that  every  unknown  quantity  in  an  equa- 
tion has  as  many  values  as  the  index  of 
its  powers  in  the  first  term  denotes ;  and 
that  these  values,  in  a  necessary  sequence 
of  combinations,  form  the  coefficients  of 
the  succeeding  terms  into  which  the  de- 
creasing powers  of  the  unknown  quantity 
enter,  as  they  do  also,  by  their  united  prod- 
uct, the- last  or  known  term  of  the  equa- 
tion.    This  discovery  facilitated  the  solu- 
tion of  equations,  by  the  necessary  com- 
positions of  their  terms  which  it  display- 
ed.     It  was   evident,  for  example,   that 
each  root  of  an  equation  must  be  a  factor, 
and,  consequent^,  a  divisor,  of  the  last 
term.f 

18.  Harriott  introduced  the  use  of  small 
letters  instead  of  capitals  in  algebra;  he 
employed  vowels  for   unknown,   conso- 
nants  for  known  quantities,   and  joined 
them   to  express  their  product. J    There 


*  La  solution  par  moins  s'explique  en  geometric 
en  retrogradant,  et  le  moms  recule  ou  le  plus 
avance. — Montucla,  p.  112. 

t  Harriott's  book  is  a  thin  folio  of  180  pages,  with 
very  little  besides  examples ;  for  his  principles  are 
shortly  and  obscurely  laid  down.  Whoever  is  the 
author  of  the  preface  to  this  work  cannot  be  said 
to  have  suppressed  or  extenuated  the  merits  of  Vie- 
ta, or  to  have  claimed  anything  for  Harriott  but 
what  he  is  allowed  to  have  deserved.  Montucla 
justly  observes,  that  Harriott  very  rarely  makes  an 
equation  equal  to  zero,  by  bringing  all  the  quanti- 
ties to  one  side  of  the  equation. 

•J:  Oughtred,  in  his  Clavis  Mathematica,  publish- 
ed in  1631,  abbreviated  the  rules  of  Vieta,  though 
he  still  used  capital  letters.  He  also  gives  suc- 
cinctly the  praxis  of  algebra,  or  the  elementary 
rules  we  find  in  our  common  books,  which,  though 
what  are  now  first  learned,  were,  from  the  singular 
course  of  algebraical  history,  discovered  late.  They 


FROM  1600  TO  1650. 


245 


is  certainly  not  much  in  this ;  but  its  evi- 
dent convenience  renders  it  wonderful  that 
it  should  have  been  reserved  for  so  late  an 
era.  Wallis,  in  his  History  of  Algebra, 
ascribes  to  Harriott  a  long  list  of  discov- 
eries, which  have  been  reclaimed  for  Car- 
dan and  Vieta,  the  great  founders  of  the 
higher  algebra,  by  Cossali  and  Montucla.* 
The  latter  of  these  writers  has  been  char- 
ged, even  by  foreigners,  with  similar  in- 
justice towards  our  countryman ;  and 
that  he  has  been  provoked  by  what  he 
thought  the  unfairness  of  Wallis  to  some- 
thing like  a  depreciation  of  Harriott,  seems 
as  clear  as  that  he  has  himself  robbed 
Cardan  of  part  of  his  due  credit  in  swell- 
ing the  account  of  Vieta's  discoveries. 
From  the  general  integrity,  however,  of 
Montucla's  writings,  I  am  much  inclined 
to  acquit  him  of  any  wilful  partiality. 

19.  Harriott  had  shown  what  were  the 
Descartes.  nilWen  laws  of  algebra,  as  the 
science  of  symbolical  notation. 
But  one  man,  the  pride  of  France,  and 
wonder  of  his  contemporaries,  was  des- 
tined to  flash  light  upon  the  labours  of 
the  analyst,  and  to  point,  out  what  those 
symbols,  so  darkly  and  painfully  traced, 
and  resulting  commonly  in  irrational  or 
even  impossible  forms,  might  represent 
and  explain.  The  use  of  numbers,  or  of 
letters  denoting  numbers,  for  lines  and 
rectangles  capable  of  division  into  aliquot 
parts,  had  long  been  too  obvious  to  be  over- 
looked, and  is  only  a  compendious  abbre- 
viation of  geometrical  proof.  The  next 
step  made  was  the  perceiving  that  irra- 
tional numbers,  as  they  are  called,  repre- 
sent incommensurable  quantities  ;  that  is, 
if  unity  be  taken  for  the  side  of  a  square, 
the  square-root  of  two  will  represent  its 
diagonal.  Gradually  the  application  of 
numerical  and  algebraical  calculation  to 
the  solution  of  problems  respecting  mag- 
nitude became  more  frequent  and  refined. f 
It  is  certain,  however,  that  no  one  before 
Descartes  had  employed  algebraic  for- 
mula in  the  construction  of  curves  ;  that  is, 
had  taught  the  inverse  process,  not  only 
how  to  express  diagrams  by  algebra,  but 
how  to  turn  algebra  into  diagrams.  The 
ancient  geometers,  he  observes,  were 
scrupulous  about  using  the  language  of 
arithmetic  in  geometry,  which  could  only 
proceed  from  their  not  perceiving  the  re- 
lation between  the  two  ;  and  this  has  pro- 
are,  however,  given  also  by  Harriott. — Wallisii  Al- 
gebra. 

*  These  may  be  found  in  the  article  Harriott  of 
the  Biographia  Britannica.  Wallis,  however,  does 
not  suppress  the  honour  due  to  Vieta  quite  as  much 
as  is  intimated  by  Montucla. 

j-  See  note  in  vol.  i.,  p.  392. 


duced  a  great  deal  of  obscurity  and  em- 
barrassment in  some  of  their  demonstra- 
tions.* 

20.  The  principle  which  Descartes  es- 
tablishes is,  that  every  curve  of  H! 

xi  i-i  •«     »•  His  annli- 

those  which  are  called  geometn-  cation  or 
cal  has  its  fundamental  equation  algebra  to 
expressing  the  constant  relation  Cl 
between  the  absciss  and  the  ordinate. 
Thus  the  rectangle  under  the  abscisses  of 
a  diameter  of  the  circle  is  equal  to  the 
square  of  the  ordinate,  and  the  other  conic 
sections,  as  well  as  higher  curves,  have 
each  their  leading  property,  which  deter- 
mines their  nature,  and  shows  how  they 
may  be  generated.  A  simple  equation 
can  only  express  the  relation  of  straight 
lines  ;  the  solution  of  a  quadratic  must  be 
found  in  one  of  the  four  conic  sections ; 
and  the  higher  powers  of  an  unknown 
quantity  lead  to  curves  of  a  superior  or- 
der. The  beautiful  and  extensive  theory 
developed  by  Descartes  in  this  short  trea- 
tise displays  a  most  consummate  felicity 
of  genius.  That  such  a  man,  endowed 
with  faculties  so  original,  should  have  en- 
croached on  the  just  rights  of  others,  is 
what  we  can  only  believe  with  reluctance. 

21.  It  must,  however,  be  owned  that, 
independently  of  the  suspicions  Suspected 
of  an  unacknowledged  appropria-  plagiarism 
tion  of  what  others  had  thought  j™™  Uar- 
before  him,  which,  unfortunately, 

hang  over  all  the  writings  of  Descartes, 
he  has  taken  to  himself  the  whole  theory 
of  Harriott  on  the  nature  of  equations  in 
a  manner  which,  if  it  is  not  a  remarkable 
case  of  simultaneous  invention,  can  only 
be  reckoned  a  very  unwarrantable  plagia- 
rism. For  not  only  he  does  not  name 
Harriott,  but  he  evidently  introduces  the 
subject  as  an  important  discovery  of  his 
own,  and  in  one  of  his  letters  asserts  his 
originality  in  the  most  positive  language.! 


*  OZuvres  de  Descartes,  v.,  323. 

t  Tant  s'en  faut  que  les  choses  que  j'ai  6crites 
puissent  etre  aisement  tirees  de  Viete,  qu'au  con 
traire  ce  qui  est  cause  que  mon  traite  est  difficile  & 
entendre,  c'est  que  j'ai  tache  a  n'y  rien  inettre  que 
ce  que  j'ai  cru  n'avoir  point  fete1  su  ni  par  lui  ni  par 
aucun  autre  ;  comme  on  peut  voir  si  on  confere  ce 
que  j'ai  ecrit  du  nombre  des  racines  qui  sont  en 
chaque  equation,  dans  la  page  372,  qui  est  1'endroit 
oil  je  commence  a  donner  les  regies  de  mon  alge- 
bre,  avec  ce  que  Viete  en  a  6crit  tout  a  la  fin  de  son 
livre,  De  Emendatione  ^Equationum  ;  car  on  verra 
que  je  le  determine  g6neralement  en  toutes  Equa- 
tions, an  lieu  que  lui  n'en  aiant  donn6  que  quelques 
exemples  particuliers,  dont  il  fait  toutefois  si  grand 
etat  qu'il  a  voulu  conclure  son  livre  par  IJk,  il  a  mon 
tre  qu'il  ne  le  pouvoit  determiner  en  general.  Et 
ainsi  j'ai  commence  oQ  il  avoit  acheve\  ce  que  j'ai 
fait  toutefois  sans  y  penser  ;  car  j'ai  plus  feuillete 
Viete  depuis  que  j'ai  recu  votre  derniere  que  je 
n'avois  jamais  fait  auparavant,  1'ayant  trouye  ici 
par  hasard  entre  les  mains  d'un  de  mes  amis  •  et 


246 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


Still  it  is  quite  possible  that,  prepared  as 
the  way  had  been  by  Vieta,  and  gifted  as 
Descartes  was  with  a  wonderfully  intui- 
tive acuteness  in  all  mathematical  reason- 
ing, he  may  in  this,  as  in  other  instances, 
have  struck  out  the  whole  theory  by  him- 
self. Montucla  extols  the  algebra  of  Des- 
cartes, that  is,  so  much  of  it  as  can  be 
fairly  claimed  for  him  without  any  pre- 
cursor, very  highly ;  and  some  of  his  in- 
ventions in  the  treatment  of  equations 
have  long  been  current  in  books  on  that 
science.  He  was  the  first  who  showed 
what  were  called  impossible  or  imagina- 
ry roots,  though  he  never  assigns  them, 
deeming  them  no  quantities  at  all.  He 
was  also,  perhaps,  the  first  who  fully  un- 
derstood negative  roots,  though  he  still 
retains  the  appellation  false  roots,  which 
is  not  so  good  as  Harriott's  epithet,  priva- 
tive. According  to  his  panegyrist,  he  first 
pointed  out  that  in  every  equation  (the 
terms  being  all  on  one  side)  which  has  no 
imaginary  roots,  there  are  as  many  chan- 
ges of  signs  as  positive  roots,  as  many 
continuations  of  them  as  negative. 
22.  The  geometer  next  in  genius  to 
Descartes,  and  perhaps  nearer  to 
him  than  to  any  third,  was  Fermat, 
a  man  of  various  acquirements,  of  high 
rank  in  the  Parliament  of  Toulouse,  and 
of  a  mind  incapable  of  envy,  forgiving  of 
detraction,  and  delighting  in  truth,  with 
almost  too  much  indifference  to  praise. 
The  works  of  Fermat  were  not  published 
till  long  after  his  death  in  1665 ;  but  his 
frequent  discussions  with  Descartes,  by 
the  intervention  of  their  common  corre- 
spondent, Mersenne,  render  this  place 
more  appropriate  for  the  introduction  of 
his  name.  In  these  controversies  Des- 
cartes never  behaved  to  Fermat  with  the 
respect  due  to  his  talents  ;  in  fact,  no  one 
was  ever  more  jealous  of  his  own  pre-em- 
inence, or  more  unwilling  to  acknowledge 

entre  nous,  je  ne  trouve  pas  qu'il  en  ait  tant  su  que 
je  pensois,  non  obstant  qu'il  fut  fort  habile.  This 
is  in  a  letter  to  Mersenne  in  1637.— OSuvres  de 
Descartes,  vol.  vi.,  p.  300. 

The  charge  of  plagiarism  from  Harriott  was 
brought  against  Descartes  in  his  lifetime  :  Rober- 
val,  when  an  English  gentleman  showed  him  the 
Artis  Analytics  Praxis,  exclaimed  eagerly,  II  1'a 
vu  !  il  1'a  vu  !  It  is  also  a  very  suspicious  circum- 
stance, if  true,  as  it  appears  to  be,  that  Descartes 
was  in  England  the  year  (1631)  that  Harriott's 
work  appeared.  Carcavi,  a  friend  of  Roberval,  in  a 
letter  to  Descartes  in  1649,  plainly  intimates  to  him 
that  he  has  only  copied  Harriott  as  to  the  nature  of 
equations.— CEiavres  des  Descartes,  vol.  x.,  p.  373. 
To  this  accusation  Descartes  made  no  reply. — See 
Biographia  Britannica,  art.  Harriott.  The  Riogra- 
phie  Universe!  le  unfairly  suppresses  all  mention  of 
this,  and  labours  to  depreciate  Harriott. — See  Leib- 
nitz's catalogue  of  the  supposed  thefts  of  Descartes 
in  p.  103  of  this  volume. 


the  claims  of  those  who  scrupled  to  fol- 
low  him  implicitly,  and  who  might  in  any 
manner  be  thought  rivals  of  his  fame. 
Yet  it  is  this  unhappy  temper  of  Descar- 
tes which  ought  to  render  us  more  unwill- 
ing to  credit  the  suspicions  of  his  design- 
ed plagiarism  from  the  discoveries  of  oth- 
ers ;  since  this,  combined  with  his  unwill- 
ingness to  acknowledge  their  merits,  and 
affected  ignorance  of  their  writings,  would 
form  a  character  we  should  not  readily 
ascribe  to  a  man  of  great  genius,  and 
whose  own  writings  give  many  apparent 
indications  of  sincerity  and  virtue.  But, 
in  fact,  there  was  in  this  age  a  great  prob- 
ability of  simultaneous  invention  in  sci- 
ence from  developing  principles  that  had 
been  partially  brought  to  light.  Thus 
Roberval  discovered  the  same  method  of 
indivisibles  as  Cavalieri,  and  Descartes 
must  equally  have  been  led  to  his  theory 
of  tangents  by  that  of  Kepler.  Fermat 
also,  who  was  in  possession  of  his  princi- 
pal discoveries  before  the  geometry  of 
Descartes  saw  the  light,  derived  from 
Kepler  his  own  celebrated  method,  de 
maximis  et  minimis ;  a  method  of  discov- 
ering the  greatest  or  least  value  of  a  va- 
riable quantity,  such  as  the  ordinate  of  a 
curve.  It  depends  on  the  same  principle 
as  that  of  Kepler.  From  this  he  deduced 
a  rule  for  drawing  tangents  to  curves  dif- 
ferent from  that  of  Descartes.  This  led 
to  a  controversy  between  the  two  geome- 
ters, carried  on  by  Descartes,  who  yet  is 
deemed  to  have  been  in  the  wrong,  with 
his  usual  quickness  of  resentment.  Sev- 
eral other  discoveries,  both  in  pure  alge- 
bra and  geometry,  illustrate  the  name  of 
Fermat.* 

23.  The  new  geometry  of  Descartes 
was  not  received  with  the  uni-  A]  fibrajc 
versal  admiratipn  it  deserved,  geometry" 
Besides  its  conciseness,  and  the  not  success- 
inroad  it  made  on  old  prejudices  fu 

as  to  geometrical  methods,  the  general 
boldness  of  the  author's  speculations  in 
physical  and  metaphysical  philosophy,  as 
well  as  his  indiscreet  temper,  disinclined 
many  who  ought  to  have  appreciated  it ; 
and  it  was  in  his  own  country,. where  he 
had  ceased  to  reside,  that  Descartes  had 
the  fewest  admirers.  Roberval  made 
some  objections  to  his  rival's  algebra,  but 
with  little  success.  A  commentary  on 
the  treatise  of  Descartes,  by  Schooten, 
professor  of  geometry  at  Leyden,  first  ap- 
peared in  1649. 

24.  Among  those  who  devoted  them- 
selves ardently  and  successfully  to  astro- 


*  A  good  article  on  Fermat,  by  M.  Maurice,  wilJ 
be  found  in  the  Biographic  Universelle. 


FROM  1600  TO  1650. 


247 


Astronomy :  nomical  observations  at  the  enc 
Kepicr.         of  the   sixteenth  century  wa 
John  Kepler,  a  native  of  Wirtemburg,  who 
had  already  shown  that  he  was  likely  to 
inherit  the  mantle  of  Tycho  Brahe.     He 
published  some  astronomical  treatises,  of 
comparatively  small  importance,  in   the 
first  years  of  the  present  period.     But  ii 
1601}  he  made  an  epoch  in  that  science  by 
his  Astronomia  Nova  amoAoy^rof,  or  Com- 
mentaries on  the  Planet  Mars.     It  hac 
been  always  assumed  that  the  heavenly 
bodies   revolve  in  circular  orbits   round 
their  centre,  whether  this  were  taken  to 
be  the  sun  or  the  earth.    There  was,  how- 
ever, an  apparent  eccentricity  or  deviation 
from  this  circular  motion,  which  it  had 
been  very  difficult  to  explain,  and  for  this 
Ptolemy  had  devised  his  complex  system 
of  epicycles.     No  planet  showed  more  of 
this  eccentricity  than  Mars  ;  and  it  was  to 
Mars   that   Kepler  turned  his  attention. 
After  many  laborious  researches,  he  was 
brought,  by  degrees,  to  the  great  discov- 
ery, that  the  motion  of  the  planets,  among 
which,  having    adopted  the    Copernican 
system,  he  reckoned  the  earth,  is  not  per- 
formed in  circular,  but  in  elliptical  orbits, 
the  sun  not  occupying  the  centre,  but  one 
of  the  foci  of  the  curve ;  and,  secondly, 
that  it  is  performed  with  such  a  varying 
velocity,  that  the  areas  described  by  the 
radius  vector,  or  line  which  joins  this  fo- 
cus to  the  revolving  planet,  are  always 
proportional  to  the  times.    A  planet,  there- 
fore, moves  less   rapidly  as  it  becomes 
more  distant  from   the  sun.     These  are 
the  first  and  second  of  the  three  great 
laws  of  Kepler.     The  third  was  not  dis- 
covered by  him  till  some  years  afterward. 
He  tells  us  himself,  that,  on  the  8th  of 
May,  1018,  after  long  toil  in  investigating 
the  proportion  of  the  periodic  times  of  the 
planetary  movements  to  their  orbits,  an 
idea  struck  his  mind,  which,  chancing  to 
make  a  mistake  in  the  calculation,  he  soon 
rejected.     But,  a  week  after,  returning  to 
the   subject,  he  entirely  established  his 
grand  discovery,  that  the  squares  of  the 
times  of  revolution  are  as  the  cubes  of  the 
mean  distances  of  the  planets.     This  was 
first   made   known  to  the  world  in  his 
Mysterium    Cosmographicum,   published 
in  1619;  a  work  mingled  up  with  many 
strange  effusions  of  a  mind  far  more  ec- 
centric than  any  of  the  planets  with  which 
it  was  engaged.    In  the  Epitome  Astrono- 
miae  Copernicanae,  printed  the  same  year, 
he  endeavours  to  deduce  this  law  from  his 
theory  of  centrifugal  forces.      He  had  a 
very  good  insight  into  the  principles  of 
universal  gravitation  as  an  attribute  of 
matter ;  but  several  of  his  assumptions  as 


to  the  laws  of  motion  are  not  consonant 
to  truth.  There  seems,  indeed,  to  have 
been  a  considerable  degree  of  good  for- 
tune in  the  discoveries  of  Kepler ;  yet  this 
may  be  deemed  the  reward  of  his  indefat- 
igable laboriousness,  and  of  the  ingenu- 
ousness with  which  he  renounced  any 
hypothesis  that  he  could  not  reconcile 
with  his  advancing  knowledge  of  the  phae- 
nomena. 

25.  The  appearance  of  three  comets  in 
1619  called  once  more  the  as-  conjectures 
tronomers  of  Europe  to  specu-  as  to  comets, 
late   on  the  nature  of  those  anomalous 
bodies.     They  still  passed  for  harbingers 
of  worldly  catastrophes ;  and  those  who 
feared  them  least  could  not  interpret  their 
apparent    irregularity.      Galileo,    though 
Tycho  Brahe  had  formed  a  juster  notion, 
unfortunately  took  them  for  atmospheric 
meteors.   Kepler,  though  he  brought  them 
from  the  far  regions  of  space,  did  not  sus- 
pect the  nature  of  their  orbits,  and  thought 
that,  moving  in  straight  lines,  they  were 
finally  dispersed  and  came   to  nothing. 
But  a  Jesuit,   Grassi,   in   a  treatise  De 
Tribus    Cometis,   Rome,   1618,   had   the 
honour  of  explaining  what   had  baffled 
Galileo,  and  first  held  them  to  be  planets 
moving  in  vast  ellipses  round  the  sun.* 

26.  But  long  before  this  time  the  name 
of  Galileo  had  become  immortal  . 

by  discoveries  which,  though  co'very'orju^ 
they  would  certainly  have  soon  i»tcr's  satei- 
been  made  by  some  other,  per-  Iltes" 
tiaps  far  inferior  observer,  were  happily 
reserved  for  the  most  philosophical  genius 
of  the  age.  Galileo  assures  us  that,  hav- 
ing heard  of  the  invention  of  an  instrument 
n  Holland  which  enlarged  the  size  of  dis- 
;ant  objects,  but  knowing  nothing  of  its 
ionstruction,  he  began  to  study  the  theory 
of  refractions  till  he  found  by  experiment 
hat,  by  means  of  a  convex  and  concave 
glass  in  a  tube,  he  could  magnify  an  ob- 
ect  threefold.  He  was  thus  encouraged 
to  make  another,  which  magnified  thirty 
imes ;  and  this  he  exhibited  in  the  autumn 
of  1609  to  the  inhabitants  of  Venice.  Hav- 
ng  made  a  present  of  his  first  telescope 
o  the  senate,  who  rewarded  him  with  a 
jension,  he  soon  constructed  another ;  and 
n  one  of  the  first  nights  of  January,  1610, 
directing  it  towards  the  moon,  was  aston- 
shed  to  see  her  surface  and  edges  covered 
with  inequalities.  These  he  considered 
o  be  mountains,  and  judged  by  a  sort  of 
measurement  that  some  of  them  must  ex- 
eed  those  of  the  earth.  His  next  obser- 
vation was  of  the  milky  way  ;  and  this  he 


*  The  Biographic  Universelle,  art.  Grassi,  as- 
cribes this  opinion  to  Tycho. 


248 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


found  to  derive  its  nebulous  lustre  from 
myriads  of  stars,  not  distinguishable, 
through  their  remoteness,  by  the  unassist- 
ed sight  of  man.  The  nebulae  in  the  con- 
stellation Orion  he  perceived  to  be  of  the 
same  character.  Before  his  delight  at 
these  discoveries  could  have  subsided,  he 
turned  his  telescope  to  Jupiter,  and  was 
surprised  to  remark  three  small  stars, 
which,  in  a  second  night's  observation, 
had  changed  their  places.  In  the  course 
of  a  few  weeks,  he  was  able  to  determine 
by  their  revolutions,  which  are  very  rapid, 
that  these  are  secondary  planets,  the 
moons  or  satellites  of  Jupiter;  and  he  had 
added  a  fourth  to  their  number.  These 
marvellous  revelations  of  nature  he  hast- 
ened to  announce  in  a  work,  aptly  en- 
titled Sidereus  Nuncius,  published  in 
March,  1610.  In  an  age  when  the  fasci- 
nating science  of  astronomy  had  already 
so  much  excited  the  minds  of  philosophers, 
it  may  be  guessed  with  what  eagerness 
this  intelligence  from  the  heavens  was 
circulated.  A  few,  as  usual,  through  envy 
or  prejudice,  affected  to  contemn  it.  But 
wisdom  was  justified  of  her  children. 
Kepler,  in  his  Narratio  de  observatis  a  se 
Quatuor  Jovis  Satellitibus,  1610,  confirmed 
the  discoveries  of  Galileo.  Peiresc,  an 
inferior  name,  no  doubt,  but  deserving  of 
every  praise  for  his  zeal  in  the  cause  of 
knowledge,  having  with  difficulty  procured 
a  good  telescope,  saw  the  four  satellites 
in  November,  1610,  and  is  said  by  Gassendi 
to  have  conceived  at  that  time  the  inge- 
nious idea  that  their  occultations  might  be 
used  to  ascertain  the  longitude.* 

27.  This  is  the  greatest  and  most  im- 
otherdiscov-  portant  of  the  discoveries  of 
cries  by  him.  Galileo.  But  several  others 
were  of  the  deepest  interest.  He  found 
that  the  planet  Venus  had  phases,  that  is, 
periodical  differences  of  apparent  form  like 
the  moon ;  and  that  these  are  exactly  such 
as  would  be  produced  by  the  variable  re- 
flection of  the  sun's  light  on  the  Coperni- 
can  hypothesis ;  ascribing  also  the  faint 
light  on  that  part  of  the  moon  which  does 
not  receive  the  rays  of  the  sun,  to  the  re- 
flection from  the  earth,  called  by  some 
late  writers  earth-shine ;  which,  though 
it  had  been  suggested  by  Maestlin,  and  be- 
fore him  by  Leonardo  da  Vinci,  was  not 
generally  received  among  astronomers. 
Another  striking  phenomenon,  though  he 
did  not  see  the  means  of  explaining  it, 
was  the  triple  appearance  of  Saturn,  as  if 
smaller  stars  were  conjoined,  as  it  were, 
like  wings  to  the  planet.  This,  oT  course, 
was  the  ring. 


*  Gassendi,  Vita  Peirescii,  p.  77. 


28.  Meantime,  the  new  auxiliary  of  vis 
ion,  which  had  revealed  so  many  Spots  of  lh 
wonders,  could  not   lie  unem-  sun  discov 
ployed  in  the  hands  of  others.  ercd- 

A  publication  by  John  Fabricius,  at  Wit 
tenberg,  in  July,  1611,  De  Maculis  in  Sole 
visis,  announced  a  phenomenon  in  con- 
tradiction of  common  prejudice.  The  sun 
had  passed  for  a  body  of  liquid  flame,  or, 
if  thought  solid,  still  in  a  state  of  perfect 
ignition.  Kepler  had  some  years  before 
observed  a  spot,  which  he  unluckily  mis- 
took for  the  orb  of  Mercury  in  its  passage 
over  the  solar  orb.  Fabricius  was  not 
permitted  to  claim  this  discovery  as  his 
own.  Scheiner,  a  Jesuit,  professor  of 
mathematics  at  Ingolstadt,  asserts,  in  a 
le.Uer  dated  12th  of  November,  1611,  that 
he  first  saw  the  spots  in  the  month  of 
March  in  that  year,  but  he  seems  to  have 
paid  little  attention  to  them  before  that 
of  October.  Both  Fabricius,  however, 
and  Scheiner  may  be  put  out  of  the  ques- 
tion. We  have  evidence  that  Harriott 
observed  the  spots  on  the  sun  as  early  as 
December  8th,  1610.  The  motion  of  the 
spots  suggested  the  revolution  of  the  sun 
round  its  axis,  completed  in  twenty-four 
days,  as  it  is  now  determined ;  and  their 
frequent  alterations  of  form,  as  well  as 
occasional  disappearance,  could  only  be 
explained  by  the  hypothesis  of  a  luminous 
atmosphere  in  commotion,  a  sea  of  flame, 
revealing  at  intervals  the  dark  central 
mass  of  the  sun's  body  which  it  envelopes. 

29.  Though  it  cannot  be  said,  perhaps, 
that  the  discoveries  of  Galileo  copemican 
would  fully  prove  the  Coperni-  sysiem  held 
can  system  of  the  world  to  those  by  Galileo- 
who  were  already  insensible  to  reasoning 
from  its  sufficiency  to  explain  the  phe- 
nomena, and  from  the  analogies  of  na- 
ture, they  served  to  familiarize  the  mind 
to  it,  and  to  break  down  the  strong  ram- 
part of  prejudice  which  stood  in  its  way. 
For  eighty  years,  it  has  been  said,  this 
theory  of  the  earth's   motion  had  been 
maintained  without  censure  ;  and  it  could 
only  be  the  greater  boldness  of  Galileo  in 
its  assertion  which  drew  down  upon  him 
the  notice  of  the  Church.     But,  in  these 
eighty  years  since  the  publication  of  the 
treatise  of  Copernicus,  his  proselytes  had 
been  surprisingly  few.     They  were  now 
becoming  more  numerous  :    several  had 
written  on  that  side ;  and  Galileo  had  be- 
gun to  form  a  school  of  Copernicans,  who 
were  spreading  over  Italy.     The  Lincean 
Society,  one  of  the  most  useful  and  re- 
nowned of  Italian  academies,  founded  at 
Rome  by  Frederic  Cesi,  a  young  man  of 
noble  birth,  in  1603,  had,  as  a  fundament- 
al law,  to  apply  themselves  to  natural 


FROM  1600  TO  1650. 


249 


philosophy ;  and  it  was  impossible  that 
so  attractive  and  rational  a  system  as  that 
of  Copernicus  could  fail  of  pleasing  an 
acute  and  ingenious  nation  strongly  bent 
upon  science.  The  Church,  however,  had 
taken  alarm  ;  the  motion  of  the  earth  was 
conceived  to  be  as  repugnant  to  Scripture 
as  the  existence  ,of  antipodes  had  once 
been  reckoned  ;  and  in  1616,  Galileo, 
1  though  respected  and  in  favour  with  the 
court  of  Rome,  was  compelled  to  promise 
that  he  would  not  maintain  that  doctrine 
in  any  manner.  Some  letters  that  he  had 
published  on  the  subject  were  put,  with 
the  treatise  of  Copernicus  and  other 
works,  into  the  Index  Expurgatorius, 
where,  I  believe,  they  still  remain.* 

30.  He  seems,  notwithstanding  this,  to 
His  dialogues,  have  flattered  himself  that,  after 
and  persecu- '  several  years  had  elapsed,  he 
might  elude  the  letter  of  this 
prohibition  by  throwing  the  arguments  in 
favour  of  the  Ptolemaic  and  Copernican 
systems  into  the  form  of  a  dialogue. 
This  was  published  in  1632  ;  and  he 
might,  from  various  circumstances,  not 
unreasonably  hope  for  impunity.  But  his 
expectations  were  deceived.  It  is  well 
known  that  he  was  compelled  by  the  In- 
quisition at  Rome,  into  whose  hands  he 
fell,  to  retract,  in  the  most  solemn  and 
explicit  manner,  the  propositions  he  had 
BO  well  proved,  and  which  he  must  have 
still  believed.  It  is  unnecessary  to  give 
a  circumstantial  account,  especially  as  it 
has  been  so  well  done  in  a  recent  work, 
the  Life  of  Galileo,  by  Mr.  Drinkwater 
Bethune.  The  papal  court  meant  to  hu- 
miliate Galileo,  and,  through  him,  to  strike 
an  increasing  class  of  philosophers  with 
shame  and  terror;  but  not  otherwise  to 
punish  one,  of  whom  even  the  inquisitors 
must,  as  Italians,  have  been  proud ;  his 
confinement,  though  Montucla  says  it 
lasted  for  a  year,  was  very  short.  He 
continued,  nevertheless,  under  some  re- 


*  Drinkvvater's  Life  of  Galileo.  Fabroni,  Vita? 
Italorum,  vol.  i.  The  former  seems  to  be  mistaken 
in  supposing  that  Galileo  did  not  endeavour  to 
prove  las  system  compatible  with  Scripture.  In  a 
letter  to  Christina,  the  grand-duchess  of  Tuscany, 
the  author  (Brenna)  of  the  Life  in  Fahroni's  work 
tells  us,  he  argued  very  elaborately  for  that  purpose. 
In  ea  videlicit  epistola  philosophus  noster  ita  disse- 
nt, ut  nihil  etiam  ab  hominibus,  qui  omnem  in  sa- 
crarum  literarum  studio  consumpsissent  astatem, 
aut  subtilins  aut  verius  aut  etiam  accurntius  expli- 
catum  expectari  potuerit,  p.  118.  It  fjeems,  in  fact, 
to  have  been  this  over-tl-ssire  to  prove  his  theory  or- 
thodox which  incensed  the  Church  against  it.  See 
an  extraordinary  article  on  this  subject  in  the  eighth 
number  of  the  Dublin  Review  (1838).  Many  will 
tolerate  propositions  inconsistent  with  orthodoxy, 
when  they  are  not  brought  into  immediate  juxta- 
position with  it. 
VOL.  II.—  1 1 


straint  for  the  rest  of  his  life ;  and,  though 
he  lived  at  his  own  villa  near  Florence, 
was  not  permitted  to  enter  the  city.* 

31.  The  Church  was  not  mistaken  in 
supposing  that  she  should  intimi-  Descartes 
date  the  Copernicans,  but   very  aiarmw 
much  so  in  expecting  to  suppress  by  tUl8< 
the  theory.    Descartes  was  so  astonished 
at  hearing  of   the  sentence  on  Galileo, 
that  he  was  almost  disposed  to  burn  his 
papers,  or,  at  least,  to  let  no  one  see  them. 
"  1  cannot  collect,"  he  says,  "  that  he  who 
is  an  Italian,  and  a  friend  of  the  pope,  as 
I  understand,  has  been  criminated  on  any 
other  account  than  for  having  attempted 
to  establish  the  motion  of  the  earth.     I 
know  that  this  opinion  was  formerly  cen- 
sured by  some  cardinals  ;  but  I  thought  I 
had  since  heard  that  no  objection  was  now 
made  to  its  being  publicly  taught  even  at 
Rome."f    It  seems  not  at  all  unlikely  that 
Descartes  was  induced,  on  this  account, 
to  pretend  a  greater  degree  of  difference 
from  Copernicus  than  he  really  felt,  and 
even  to  deny,  in  a  certain  sense  of  his 
own,  the  obnoxious  tenet  of  the  earth's 
motion. {    He  was  not  without  danger  of 
a  sentence  against  truth  nearer  at  hand ; 
Cardinal  Richelieu  having  had  the  intention 
of  procuring  a  decree  of  the  Sorbonne  to 
the  same  effect,  which,  by  the  good  sense 
of  some  of  that  society,  fell  to  the  ground. $ 

32.  The  progress,  however,  of  the  Co- 
pernican theory  in  Europe,  if  it  progress  Oj 
may  not  actually  be  dated  from  the  copemi- 
its  condemnation  at  Rome,  was  ean  svstem- 
certainly  not  at  all  slower  after  that  time. 
Gassendi  rather  cautiously  took  that  side  ; 
the  Cartesians  brought  a  powerful  re-en- 
forcement ;  Bouillaud  and  several  other 
astronomers  of  note  avowed  themselves 
favourable  to  a  doctrine  which,  though  in 
Italy  it  lay  under  the  ban  of  the  papal 
power,  was  readily  saved  on  this  side  of 
the  Alps  by  some  of  the  salutary  distinc- 
tions long  in  use  to  evade  that  authority. || 
But  in   the   middle  of  the   seventeenth 


*  Fabroni.  His  Life  is  written  in  good  Latin, 
with  knowledge  and  spirit,  more  than  Tiraboschi 
has  ventured  to  display. 

It  appears  from  some  of  Grotius's  Epistles,  that 
Galileo  had  thoughts,  about  1635,  of  seeking  the 
protection  of  the  United  Provinces.  But,  on  ac- 
count of  his  advanced  age,  he  gave  this  up  :  fessus 
senio  constituit  manere  in  quibus  est  locis,  et  potiua 
quae  ibi  sunt  incommoda  perpeti,  quam  malae  setati 
migrandi  onus,  et  novas  parandi  amicitias  impo 
nere.  The  very  idea  shows  that  he  must  have 
deeply  felt  the  restraint  imposed  upon  him  in  his 
country. — Epist.  Grot.,  407,  446. 

t  Vol.  vi.,  p.  239  :  he  says  here  of  the  motion  of 
the  earth,  Je  confesse  que  s'il  est  faux,  tous  les 
fondemons  de  ma  philosophic  le  sont  aussi. 

Vol.  vi.,  p.  50.  §  Montucla,  ii.,  297 

Montucla,  p.  50. 


250 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


century,  and  long  afterward,  there  were 
mathematicians  of  no  small  reputation, 
who   struggled  stanchly  for   the   immo- 
bility of  the  earth ;  and,  except  so  far  as 
Cartesian  theories  might  have  come  in 
vogue,  we  have  no  reason  to  believe  tha 
any  persons  unacquainted  with  astronomy 
either  in  this  country  or  on  the  Conti 
nent,  had  embraced  the  system  of  Coper 
nicus.    Hume  has  censured  Bacon  for  re 
jecting  it ;  but,  if  Bacon  had  not  done  so 
he  would  have  anticipated  the  rest  of  his 
countrymen  by  a  full  quarter  of  a  century 
33.  Descartes,  in  his  new  theory  of  the 
Descartes    solar  system>  aspired  to  explain 
denies  gen-  the  secret  springs  of  nature,  while 
erai  gravi-  Kepler  and  Galileo  had  merely 
Ion-        showed  their  effects.     By  what 
force  the  heavenly  bodies  were  impelled 
by  what  law  they  were  guided,  was  cer- 
tainly a  very  different  question  from  thai 
of  the  orbit  they  described  or  the  period 
of  their  revolution.     Kepler  had  evidently 
some  notion  of  that  universally  mutual 
gravitation  which  Hooke  saw  more  clear- 
ly, and  Newton  established  on  the  basi 
of  his  geometry.*    But  Descartes  rejected 
this  with  contempt.     "  For,"  he  says,  "  to 
conceive  this,  we  must  not  only  suppose 
that  every  portion  of  matter  in  the  uni- 
verse is  animated,  and  animated  by  several 
different  souls,  which  do  not  obstruct  one 
another,  but  that  those  souls  are  intelli- 
gent and   even    divine ;   that   they  may 
know  what  is  going  on  in  the  most  remote 
places,  without   any  messenger  to   give 
them  notice,  and  that  they  may  exert  their 
powers  there."!    Kepler,  who  took  the 
world  for  a  single  animal,  a  leviathan  that 
roared  in  caverns   and  breathed  in  the 
ocean-tides,  might  have  found  it  difficult 
to  answer  this,  which  would  have  seemed 
no  objection  at  all  to  Campanella.    If  Des- 
cartes himself  had  been  more  patient  to- 
wards opinions  which  he  had  not  formed 
in  his  own   mind,  that  constant  divine 
agency,  to  which  he  was,  on  other  occa- 
sions, apt  to  resort,  could  not  but  have 
suggested  a  sufficient  explanation  of  the 
gravity  of  matter,  without  endowing  it  with 
self-agency.   He  had,  however,  fallen  upon 
a  complicated  and  original  scheme ;  the 
most  celebrated,  perhaps,  though  not  the 
most  admirable,  of  the  novelties  which 
Descartes  brought  into  philosophy. 

*  "  If  the  earth  and  moon,''  he  says,  "  were  not 
retained  in  their  orbits,  they  would  fall  one  on 
another,  the  moon  moving  about  33-34ths  of  the 
way,  the  earth  the  rest,  supposing  them  equally 
flense."  By  this  attraction  of  the  moon  he  accounts 
for  tides.  He  compares  the  attraction  of  the  planets 
towards  the  sun  to  that  of  heavy  bodies  towards 
the  earth.  t  Vol.  ix.,  p.  560. 


34.  In  a  letter  to  Mersenne,  Jan.  9th, 
1639,  he  shortly  states  that  notion  Cartesian 
of  the  material  universe  which  he  theory  or 
afterward  published  in  the  Princip-  ttle  world- 
j  ia  Philosophies.  "  I  will  tell  you,"  he  says, 
"  that  I  conceive,  or,  rather,  can  demon- 
strate, that,  besides  the  matter  which  com- 
poses terrestrial  bodies,  there  are  two 
other  kinds ;  one  very  subtle,  of  which  the 
parts  are  round,  or  nearly  round,  like  grains 
of  sand,  and  this  not  only  occupies  the 
pores  of  terrestrial  bodies,  but  constitutes 
the  substance  of  all  the  heavens  ;  the 
other  incomparably  more  subtle,  the  parts 
of  which  are  so  small,  and  move  with  such 
velocity,  that  they  have  no  determinate 
figure,  but  readily  take  at  every  instant 
that  which  is  required  to  fill  all  the  little 
intervals  which  the  other  does  not  oc- 
cupy."* To  this  hypothesis  of  a  double 
a5ther  he  was  driven  by  his  aversion  to 
admit  any  vacuum  in  nature  ;  the  rotundi- 
ty of  the  former  corpuscles  having  been 
produced,  as  he  fancied,  by  their  continual 
circular  motions,  which  had  rubbed  off 
their  angles.  This  seems,  at  present, 
rather  a  clumsy  hypothesis,  but  it  is  liter- 
ally that  which  Descartes  presented  to  the 
world. 

35.  After  having  thus  filled  the  universe 
with  different  sorts  of  matter,  he  supposes 
that  the  subtler  particles,  formed  by  the 
perpetual  rubbing  off  of  the  angles  of  the 
larger  in  their  progress  towards  spherici- 
ty, increased  by  degrees  till  there  was  a 
superfluity  that  was  not  required  to  fill  up 
the  intervals ;  and  this,  flowing  towards 
the  centre  of  the  system,  became  the  sun, 
a  very  subtle  and  liquid  body,  while,  in 
like  manner,  the  fixed  stars  were  formed 
in  other  systems.  Round  these  centres 
the  whole  mass  is  whirled  in  a  number  of 
distinct  vortices,  each  of  which  carries 
along  with  it  a  planet.  The  centrifugal 
motion  impels  every  particle  in  these  vor- 
tices at  each  instant  to  fly  off  from  the 
un  in  a  straight  line ;  but  it  is  retained 
)y  the  pressure  of  those  which  have  al- 
ready escaped,  and  form  a  denser  sphere 
beyond  it.  Light  is  no  more  than  the 
jffect  of  particles  seeking  to  escape  from 
:he  centre,  and  pressing  one  on  another, 
hough  perhaps  without  actual  motion. f 
The  planetary  vortices  contain  sometimes 


*  Vol.  viii.,  p.  73. 

t  J'ai  souvent  averti  que  par  la  Inmiere  je  n'en- 
endois  pas  tant  le  mouvement  que  cette  inclination 
iu  propension  que  ces  petits  corps  ont  a  se  mouvoir, 
t  que  ce  que  je  dirois  du  mouvement,  pour  etre 
>lus  aisement  entendu,  se  devoit  rapporter  a  cette 
ropension  ;  d'ofi  il  est  manifeste  que  selon  moi  Ton 
le  doit  entendre  autre  chose  par  les  couleurs  que 
es  differentes  varictes  q>ai  arrivent  en  ces  propen- 
ions.— Vol.  vii.,  p.  193. 


FROM  1COO  TO  1650. 


251 


smaller  vortices,  in  which  the  satellites 
are  whirled  round  their  principal. 

36.  Such,  in  a  fc\v  words,  is  the  famous 
Cartesian  theory,  which,  fallen  in  esteem 
as  it  now  is,  stood  its  ground  on  the  Con- 
tinent of  Europe  for  nearly  a  century,  till 
the  simplicity  of  the  Newtonian  system, 
and,  above  all,  its  conformity  to  the  reality 
of  things,  gained  an  undisputed  predomi- 
nance. Besides  the  arbitrary  suppositions 
of  Descartes,  and  the  various  objections 
that  were  raised  against  the  absolute 
plenum  of  space  and  other  parts  of  his 
theory,  it  has  been  urged  that  his  vortices 
are  not  reconcilable,  according  to  the  laws 
of  motion  in  fluids,  with  the  relation,  as- 
certained by  Kepler,  between  the  periods 
and  distances  of  the  planets  ;  nor  does  it 
appear  why  the  sun  should  be  in  the  focus 
rather  than  in  the  centre  of  their  orbits. 
Yet  within  a  few  yeai's  it  has  seemed  not 
impossible  that  a  part  of  his  bold  conjec- 
tures will  enter  once  more  with  soberer 
steps  into  the  schools  of  philosophy.  His 
doctrine  as  to  the  nature  of  light,  impro- 
ved as  it  was  by  Huygens,  is  daily  gaining 
ground  over  that  of  Newton  ;  that  of  a 
subtle  aether  pervading  space,  which,  in 
fact,  is  nearly  the  same  thing,  is  becoming 
a  favourite  speculation,  if  we  are  not  yet 
to  call  it  an  established  truth ;  and  the 
affirmative  of  a  problem,  which  an  eminent 
writer  has  started,  whether  this  rether  has 
a  vorticose  motion  round  the  sun,  would 
not  leave  us  very  far  from  the  philosophy 
it  has  been  so  long  our  custom  to  turn 
into  ridicule. 

37.  The  passage  of  Mercury  over  the 
Transits  of  sim  was  witnessed  by  Gassen- 
Mercury       di  in  1631.     This  phenomenon, 
and  Venus,  though  it  excited  great  interest 
in  that  age,  from  its  having  been  previous- 
ly announced,  so  as  to  furnish  a  test  of 
astronomical   accuracy,  recurs    too    fre- 
quently to  be  now  considered  as  of  high 
importance.      The    transit   of   Venus  is 
much  more  rare.     It  occurred  on  Dec.  4, 
1639,  and  was  then  only  seen  by  Horrox, 
a   young    Englishman   of   extraordinary 
mathematical  genius.     There  is  reason  to 
ascribe  an  invention  of  great  importance, 
though  not,  perhaps,  of  extreme  difficulty, 
that  of  the  micrometer,  to  Horrox. 

38.  The  satellites   of  Jupiter  and  the 
Laws  of     phases  of  Venus  are  not  so  glo- 
Mechanics   riOus  in  the  scutcheon  of  Galileo 
as  his  discovery  of  the  true  principles  of 
mechanics      These,  as  we  have  seen  in 
the  former  volume,  were  very  imperfectly 
known  till  he  appeared  ;  nor  had  the  ad- 
ditions to  that  science  since  the  time  of 
Archimedes  been  important.    The  treatise 
of  Galileo,  Delia  Scienza  Mecanica,  has 


been  said,  I  know  not  on  what  authority, 
to  have  been  written  in  1592.  It  was  not 
published, however,  till  1634,  and  then  only 
in  a  French  translation  by  Mersenne.  the 
original  not  appearing  till  1649.  This  is 
chiefly  confined  to  statics,  or  the  doctrine 
of  equilibrium  ;  it  was  in  his  dialogues  on 
motion,  Delia  Nuova  Scienza,  pub-  statics  ol 
lished  in  1638,  that  he  developed  ^\iieo. 
his  great  principles  of  the  science  of  dy- 
namics, the  moving  forces  of  bodies.  Gal- 
ileo was  induced  to  write  his  treatise  on 
mechanics,  as  he  tells  us,  in  consequence 
of  the  fruitless  attempts  he  witnessed  in 
engineers  to  raise  weights  by  a  small 
force,  "  as  if  with  their  machines  they 
could  cheat  nature,  whose  instinct,  as  it 
were,  by  fundamental  law  is,  that  no  re- 
sistance can  be  overcome  except  by  a 
superior  force."  But  as  one  man  may 
raise  a  weight  to  the  height  of  a  foot  by 
dividing  it  into  equal  portions,  commensu- 
rate to  his  power,  which  many  men  could 
not  raise  at  once,  so  a  weight,  which  rais- 
es another  greater  than  itself,  may  be  con- 
sidered as  doing  so  by  successive  instal- 
ments of  force,  during  each  of  which  it 
traverses  as  much  space  as  a  correspond- 
ing portion  of  the  larger  weight.  Hence 
the  velocity,  of  which  space  uniformly 
traversed  in  a  given  time  is  the  measure, 
is  inversely  as  the  masses  of  the  weights; 
and  thus  the  equilibrium  of  the  straight 
lever  is  maintained  when  the  weights  are 
inversely  as  their  distance  from  the  ful- 
crum. As  this  equilibrium  of  unequal 
weights  depends  on  the  velocities  they 
would  have  if  set  in  motion,  its  law  has 
been  called  the  principle  of  virtual  veloci- 
ties. No  theorem  has  been  of  more  im- 
portant utility  to  mankind.  It  is  one  of 
those  great  truths  of  science,  which,  com- 
bating and  conquering  enemies  from  op- 
posite quarters,  prejudice  and  empiricism, 
justify  the  name  of  philosophy  against  both 
classes.  The  waste  of  labour  and  ex- 
pense in  machinery  would  have  been  in- 
calculably greater  in  modern  times,  could 
we  imagine  this  law  of  nature  not  to  have 
been  discovered ;  and  as  their  misapplica- 
tion prevents  their  employment  in  a  prop- 
er direction,  we  owe,  in  fact,  to  Galileo 
the  immense  effect  which  a  right  applica- 
tion of  it  has  produced.  It  is  possible 
that  Galileo  was  ignorant  of  the  demon- 
stration given  by  Stevinus  of  the  law  of 
equilibrium  in  the  inclined  plane.  His 
own  is  different ;  but  he  seems  only  to 
consider  the  case  when  the  direction  of 
the  force  is  parallel  to  that  of  the  plane. 

39.  Still  less  was  known  of  the  princi- 
ples of  dynamics  than  of  those  of  His  Dy 
statics,  till  Galileo  came  to  investi-  nftlhic8 


252 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


gate  them.  The  acceleration  of  falling 
bodies,  whether  perpendicularly  or  on  in- 
clined planes,  was  evident ;  but  in  what 
ratio  this  took  place,  no  one  had  succeed- 
ed in  determining,  though  many  had  offer- 
ed conjectures.  He  showed  that  the  ve- 
locity acquired  was  proportional  to  the 
time  from  the  commencement  of  falling. 
This  might  now  be  demonstrated  from  the 
laws  of  motion ;  but  Galileo,  who  did  not, 
perhaps,  distinctly  know  them,  made  use 
of  experiment.  He  then  proved  by  rea- 
soning that  the  spaces  traversed  in  falling 
were  as  the  squares  of  the  times  or  veloci- 
ties ;  that  their  increments  in  equal  times 
were  as  the  uneven  numbers,  1,  3,  5,  7, 
and  so  forth;  and  that  the  whole  space 
was  half  what  would  have  been  traversed 
uniformly  from  the  beginning  with  the 
final  velocity.  These  are  the  great  laws 
of  accelerated  and  retarded  motion,  from 
which  Galileo  deduced  most  important 
theorems.  He  showed  that  the  time  in 
which  bodies  roll  down  the  length  of  in- 
clined planes  is  equal  to  that  in  which 
they  would  fall  down  the  height,  and  in 
different  planes  is  proportionate  to  the 
height ;  and  that  their  acquired  velocity 
is  in  the  same  ratios.  In  some  proposi- 
tions he  was  deceived  ;  but  the  science  of 
dynamics  owes  more  to  Galileo  than  to 
any  one  philosopher.  The  motion  of  pro- 
jectiles had  never  been  understood ;  he 
showed  it  to  be  parabolic  ;  and  in  this  he 
not  only  necessarily  made  use  of  a  prin- 
ciple of  vast  extent,  that  of  compound  mo- 
tion, which,  though  it  is  clearly  mentioned 
in  one  passage  by  Aristotle,*  and  may 
probably  be  implied  in  the  mechanical 
reasonings  of  others,  does  not  seem  to 
have  been  explicitly  laid  down  by  modern 
writers,  but  must  have  seen  the  principle 
of  curvilinear  deflection  by  forces  acting 
in  infinitely  small  portions  of  time.  The 
ratio  between  the  times  of  vibration  in 
pendulums  of  unequal  length  had  early 
attracted  Galileo's  attention.  But  he  did 
not  reach  the  geometrical  exactness  of 
which  this  subject  is  capable. f  He  de- 
veloped a  new  principle  as  to  the  resist- 
ance of  solids  to  the  fracture  of  their  parts, 
which,  though  Descartes,  as  usual,  treat- 
ed it  with  scorn,  is  now  established  in 
philosophy.  "  One  forms,  however,"  says 
Playfair,  "  a  very  imperfect  idea  of  this 
philosopher  from  considering  the  discov- 
eries and  inventions,  numerous  and  splen- 
did as  they  are,  of  which  he  was  the  un- 
disputed author.  It  is  by  following  his 
reasonings,  and  by  pursuing  the  train  of 


Drinkwater's  Life  of  Galileo,  p.  80. 
Fabroiv. 


his  thoughts,  in  hi.s  own  elegant,  though 
somewhat  diffuse  exposition  of  them,  that 
we  become  acquainted  with  the  fertility 
of  his  genius,  with  the  sagacity,  penetra- 
tion, and  comprehensiveness  of  his  mind. 
The  service  which  he  rendered  to  real 
knowledge  is  to  be  estimated,  not  only 
from  the  truths  which  he  discovered,  but 
from  the  errors  which  he  detected ;  not 
merely  from  the  sound  principles  which 
he  established,  but  from  the  pernicious 
idols  he  overthrew.  Of  all  the  writers 
who  have  lived  in  an  age  which  was  yet 
only  emerging  from  ignorance  and  barba- 
rism, Galileo  has  most  entirely  the  tone 
of  true  philosophy,  and  is  most  free  from 
any  contamination  of  the  times  in  taste, 
sentiment,  and  opinion."* 

40.  Descartes,  who  left  nothing  in  phi- 
losophy untouched,  turned  his  Mechanics 
acute  mind  to  the  science  of  of  Descartes, 
mechanics,  sometimes  with  signal  credit, 
sometimes  very  unsuccessfully.  He  re- 
duced all  statics  to  one  principle,  that  it 
requires  as  much  force  to  raise  a  body  to 
a  given  height,  as  to  raise  a  body  of  double 
weight  to  half  the  height.  This  is  the 
theorem  of  virtual  velocities  in  another 
form.  In  many  respects  he  displays  a 
jealousy  of  Galileo,  and  an  unwillingness 
to  acknowledge  his  discoveries,  which 
puts  himself  often  in  the  wrong.  "  I  be- 
lieve," he  says,  "  that  the  velocity  of  very 
heavy  bodies,  which  do  not  move  very 
quickly  in  descending,  increases  nearly  in 
a  duplicate  ratio ;  but  I  deny  that  this  is 
exact,  and  I  believe  that  the  contrary  is 
the  case  when  the  movement  is  very 
rapid."!  This  recourse  to  the  air's  re- 
sistance, a  circumstance  of  which  Galileo 
was  well  aware,  in  order  to  diminish  the 
credit  of  a  mathematical  theorem,  is  un- 
worthy of  Descartes  ;  but  it  occurs  more 
than  once  in  his  letters.  He  maintained 
also,  against  the  theory  of  Galileo,  that 
bodies  do  not  begin  to  move  with  an  in- 
finitely small  velocity,  but  have  a  certain 
degree  of  motion  at  the  first  instancer 
which  is  afterward  accelerated.^  In  this, 
too,  as  he  meant  to  extend  his  theory  to 
falling  bodies,  the  consent  of  philosophers 
lias  decided  the  question  against  him.  It 
was  a  corollary  from  these  notions  that 
tie  denies  the  increments  of  spaces  to  be 


*  Preliminary  Dissertation  to  Encyclop.  Britan. 

t  GEuvres  de  Descartes,  vol.  •viii.,  p.  24. 

j  II  faut  savoir,  quoique  Galilee  et  qnelques  au- 
tres  disent  au  contraire,  que  les  corps  qui  com- 
mencent  a  descendre,  ou  a  se  mouvoir  en  quelque 
fagon  que  ce  soil,  ne  passent  point  par  tous  les  de- 
grfes  de  tardivete  ;  mais  que  des  le  premier  moment 
ils  ont  certaine  vitesse  qui  s'augmente  apres  de 
beaucoup,  et  c'est  de  cette  augmentation  que  vient 
la  force  de  la  percussion,  viii.,  181. 


FROM  1000  TO  1650. 


253 


according  to  the  progression  of  uneven 
numbers.*  Nor  would  he  allow  that  the 
velocity  of  a  body  augments  its  force, 
though  it  is  a  concomitant. f 

41.  Descartes,  however,  is  the  first  who 
Law  of  motion  ^'d^  down  the  laws  of  motion  ; 
laid  down  by  especially  that  all  bodies  per- 

Descartes.         gjst    jn    faeir   present    s;ate   Of 

rest,  or  uniform  rectilineal  motion,  till  af- 
fected by  some  force.  Many  had  thought, 
as  the  vulgar  always  do,  that  a  continu- 
ance of  rest  was  natural  to  bodies,  but  did 
not  perceive  that  the  same  principle  of  in- 
ertia or  inactivity  was  applicable  to  them 
in  rectilineal  motion.  Whether  this  is  de- 
ducible  from  theory,  or  depends  wholly 
on  experience,  by  which  we  ought  to  mean 
experiment,  is  a  question  we  need  not  dis- 
cuss. The  fact,  however,  is  equally  cer- 
tain ;  and  hence  Descartes  inferred  that 
every  curvilinear  deflection  is  produced 
by  some  controlling  force,  from  which  the 
body  strives  to  escape  in  the  direction  of 
a  tangent  to  the  curve.  The  most  er- 
roneous part  of  his  mechanical  philosophy 
is  contained  in  some  propositions  as  to 
the  collision  of  bodies,  so  palpably  incom- 
patible with  obvious  experience  that  it 
seems  truly  wonderful  he  could  ever  have 
adopted  them.  But  he  was  led  into  these 
paradoxes  by  one  of  the  arbitrary  hypoth- 
eses which  always  governed  him.  He 
fancied  it  a  necessary  consequence  from 
the  immutability  of  the  divine  nature  that 
there  should  always  be  the  same  quantity 
of  motion  in  the  universe ;  and,  rather  than 
abandon  this  singular  assumption,  he  did 
not  hesitate  to  assert,  that  two  hard  bodies 
striking  each  other  in  opposite  directions 
would  be  reflected  with  no  loss  of  velocity ; 
and,  what  is  still  more  outrageously  para- 
doxical, that  a  smaller  body  is  incapable 
of  communicating  motion  to  a  greater; 
for  example,  that  the  red  billiard-ball  can- 
not put  the  white  into  motion.  This  mani- 
fest absurdity  he  endeavoured  to  remove 
by  the  arbitrary  supposition,  that  when 
we  see,  as  we  constantly  do,  the  reverse 
of  his  theorem  take  place,  it  is  owing  to 


*  Cette  proportion  d'augmentation  selon  les  nom- 
fares  impairs,  1,3,5,  7,  &c.,  que  est  dans  Galilee,  et 
que  je  crois  vous  avoir  aussi  ecrite  autrefois,  ne 
peut-e'tre  vraie,  qu'en  supposant  deux  ou  trois 
choses  qui  sont  tres  fausses,  dont  1'une  est  que  le 
mouvement  croisse  par  degr6s  depuis  le  plus  lent, 
ainsi  que  le  songe  Galilee,  et  1'autre  que  la  resist- 
ance de  I'air  n'ernpe'che  point,  vol.  ix.,  p.  319. 

t  Je  pense  que  la  vitesse  n'est  pas  la  cause  de 
I'augmentation  de  la  force,  encore  qu'elle  1'accom- 
pagne  toujours.— Id.,  p.  356.  See  also  vol.  viii.,  p. 
14.  He  was  probably  perplexed  by  the  metaphysical 
notion  of  causation,  which  he  knew  not  how  to  as- 
cribe to. mere  velocity.  The  fact,  that  increased 
velocity  is  a  condition  or  antecedent  of  augmented 
force  could  not  be  doubted. 


the  air,  which,  according  to  him,  renders 
bodies  more  susceptible  of  motion  than 
they  would  naturally  be. 

42.  Though  Galileo,  as  well  as  otlers, 
must  have  been  acquainted  with  A,.n  „  _, 

4.1  1  t*          1  "      •  f      "15>'J     '1    •*»" 

the  laws  of  the  composition  of  or  compound 
moving  forces,  it  does  not  ap-  foroes- 
pear  that  they  had  ever  been  so  distinctly 
enumerated  as  by  Descartes,  in  a  passage 
of  his  Dioptrics.*  That  the  doctrine  was 
in  some  measure  new  may  be  inferred 
from  the  objections  of  Fermat ;  and  Cler- 
selier,  some  years  afterward,  speaks  of 
persons  "  not  much  versed  in  mathematics, 
who  cannot  understand  an  argument  taken 
from  the  nature  of  compound  motion."! 

43.  Roberval  demonstrated  what  seems 
to  have  been  assumed  by  Galileo,  Other  dis. 
that  the  forces  on  an  oblique  or  coveries  in 
crooked  lever  balance  each  other  meclia"i'><»- 
when  they  are  inversely  as  the  perpendicu- 
lars drawn  from  the  centre  of  motion  to 
their  direction.     Fermat,  more  versed  in 
geometry  than  physics,  disputed  this  the- 
orem,  which  is  now  quite   elementary. 
Descartes,  in  a  letter  to  Mersenne,  un- 
graciously testifies  his  agreement  with  it.| 
Torricelli,  the  most  illustrious  disciple  of 
Galileo,   established   that  when  weights 
balance  each  other  in  all  positions,  their 
common  centre  of  gravity  does  not  ascend 
or  descend,  and  conversely. 

44.  Galileo,  in  a  treatise  entitled  Delle 
Cose  che   stanno   nellr  Acqua,  Inhydro. 
lays  down  the  principles  of  hy-  statics  and 
drostatics    already    established  pneumatics, 
by  Stevin,  and,  among  others,  what  is  call- 
ed the  hydrostatical  paradox.     Whether 
he  was  acquainted  with  Stevin's  writings 
may  be  perhaps  doubted ;  it  does  not  ap-' 
pear  that  he  mentions  them.     The  more 
difficult  science  of  hydraulics  was  entirely 
created  by  two  disciples  of  Galileo,  Cas- 
tellio  and   Torricelli.      It  is  one   every- 
where of  high  importance,  and  especially 
in  Italy.     The  work  of  Castellio,  Delia 
Misura  dell'  Acque  Correnti,  and  a  con- 
tinuation, were  published  at  Rome  in  1628. 
His  practical  skill  in  hydraulics,  displayed 
in  carrying  off  the  stagnant  waters  of  the 


*  Vol.  v.,  p.  18.  f  Vol.  vi.,  p.  508. 

J  Je  suis  de  1'opinion,  says  Descartes,  de  ceux 
qui  disent  que  pondera  sunt  in  (equilibria  quando  sunt 
in  ratione  reciproca  linenrum  perpend icularium,  &c., 
vol.  ix.,  p.  357.  He  would  not  name  Roberval ;  one 
of  those  littlenesses  which  appear  too  frequently  in 
his  letters,  and  in  all  his  writings.  Descartes,  in 
fact,  could  not  bear  to  think  that  another,  even 
though  not  an  enemy,  had  discovered  anything.  In 
the  preceding  page  he  says  :  C'est  une  chose  ridi- 
cule que  de  vouloir  employer  la  raison  du  levier 
dans  la  poulie,  ce  qui  est,  si  j'ai  bonne  memoire, 
une  imagination  de  Guide  Ubalde.  Yet  this  ima- 
gination is  demonstrated  in  all  our  elementary  books 
on  mechanics. 


254 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


Arno,  and  in  many  other  public  works, 
seems  to  have  exceeded  his  theoretical 
science.  An  error  into  which  he  fell,  sup- 
posing the  velocity  of  fluids  to  be  as  the 
height  down  which  they  had  descended, 
led  to  false  results.  Torricelli  proved 
that  it  was  as  the  square  root  of  the  alti- 
tude. The  latter  of  these  two  was  still 
more  distinguished  by  his  discovery  of 
the  barometer.  The  principle  of  the  si- 
phon or  sucking-pump,  and  the  impossi- 
bility of  raising  water  in  it  more  than 
about  thirty-three  feet,  were  both  well 
known ;  but  even  Galileo  had  recourse  to 
the  clumsy  explanation  that  nature  limit- 
ed her  supposed  horror  of  a  vacuum  to 
this  altitude.  It  occurred  to  the  sagacity 
of  Torricelli  that  the  weight  of  the  atmo- 
spheric column,  pressing  upon  the  fluid 
which  supplied  the  pump,  was  the  cause 
of  this  rise  above  its  level ;  and  that  the 
degree  of  rise  was,  consequently,  the 
measure  of  that  weight.  That  the  air 
had  weight  was  known  indeed  to  Galileo 
and  Descartes  ;  and  the  latter  not  only 
had  some  notion  of  determining  it  by 
means  of  a  tube  filled  with  mercury,  but, 
m  a  passage  which  seems  to  have  been 
much  overlooked,  distinctly  suggests  as 
one  reason  why  water  will  not  rise  above 
eighten  brasses  in  a  pump,  "  the  weight  of 
the  water  which  counterbalances  that  of 
the  air."*  Torricelli  happily  thought  t>f 
using  mercury,  a  fluid  thirteen  times  heav- 
ier, instead  of  water,  and  thus  invented  a 
portable  instrument  by  which  the  varia- 
tions of  the  mereunal  column  might  be 
readily  observed.  These  he  found  to 
fluctuate  betweefi  certain  well-known  lim- 
its, and  in  circumstances  which  might 
justly  be  ascribed  to  the  variations  of  at- 
mospheric gravity.  This  discovery  he 
made  in  1643  ;  and  in  16-18,  Pascal,  by  his 
celebrated  experiment  on  the  Puy  de 
Dome,  established  the  theory  of  atmo- 
spheric pressure  beyond  dispute.  He 
found  a  considerable  difference  in  the 
height  of  the  mercury  at  the  bottom  and 
the  top  of  that  mountain ;  and  a  smaller, 
yet  perceptible  variation  was  proved  on 
taking  the  barometer  to  the  top  of  one  of 
the  loftiest  churches  in  Paris. 

45.  The  science  of  optics  was  so  far 
optics :  from  Ailing  behind  other  branch- 
Discoveries  es  of  physics  in  this  period,  that, 
of  Kepler,  including  the  two  great  practical 
discoveries  which  illustrate  it,  no  former 
or  later  generation  has  witnessed  such  an 
advance.  Kepler  began,  in  the  year  1604, 
by  one  of  his  first  works,  Paralipomena 
ad  Vitellionem,  a  title  somewhat  more 


*  Vol.  vii.,  p.  437. 


modest  than  he  was  apt  to  assume.  In 
this  supplement  to  the  great  Polish  phi- 
losopher of  the  middle  ages,  he  first  ex- 
plained the  structure  of  the  human  eye, 
and  its  adaptation  to  the  purposes  of  vis- 
ion. Porta  and  Maurolycus  had  made 
important  discoveries,  but  left  the  great 
problem  untouched.  Kepler  had  the  sa- 
gacity to  perceive  the  use  of  the  retina  as 
the  canvass  on  which  images  were  paint- 
ed. In  his  treatise,  says  Montucla,  we 
are  not  to  expect  the  precision  of  our  own 
age ;  but  it  is  full  of  ideas  novel  and  worthy 
of  a  man  of  genius.  He  traced  the  causes 
of  imperfect  vision  in  its  two  principal 
cases,  where  the  rays  of  light  converge 
to  a  point  before  or  behind  the  retina. 
Several  other  optical  phenomena  are  well 
explained  by  Kepler ;  but  he  was  unable 
to  master  the  great  enigma  of  the  science, 
the  law  of  refraction.  To  this  he  turned 
his  attention  again  in  1611,  when  he  pub- 
lished a  treatise  on  Dioptrics.  He  here 
first  laid  the  foundation  of  that  science. 
The  angle  of  refraction,  which  Mauroly- 
cus had  supposed  equal  to  that  of  inci- 
dence, he  here  assumed  to  be  one  third 
of  it ;  which,  though  very  erroneous  as  a 
general  '.heorem,  was  sufficiently  accurate 
for  l  he  sort  of  glasses  he  employed.  It 
was  his  object  to  explain  the  invcmion 
principle  of  the  telescope  ;  and  of  the  teie- 
in  this  he  well  succeeded.  That  scope- 
admirable  invention  was  then  quite  recent. 
Whatever  endeavours  have  been  made  to 
carry  up  the  art  of  assisting  vision  by 
means  of  a  tube  to  much  more  ancient 
times,  it  seems  to  be  fully  proved  that  no 
one  had  made  use  of  combined  lenses  for 
that  purpose.  The  slight  benefk  which  a 
hollow  tube  affords  by  obstructing  the  lat- 
eral ray  must  have  been  early  familiar, 
and  will  account  for  passages  which  have 
been  construed  to  imply  what  the  writers 
never  dreamed  of.*  The  real  inventor  of 
the  telescope  is  not  certainly  known. 
Metius  of  Alkmaer  long  enjoyed  that  hon- 
our ;  but  the  best  claim  seems  to  be  that 
of  Zachary  Jens,  a  dealer  in  spectacles  at 
Middleburg.  The  date  of  the  invention, 
or,  at  least,  of  its  publicity,  is  referred,  be- 
yond dispute,  to  1609.  The  news  of  so 
wonderful  a  novelty  spread  rapidly  through 
Europe  ;  and  in  the  same  year  Galileo,  as 
has  been  mentioned,  having  heard  of  the 
discovery,  constructed  by  his  own  sagaci- 
ty the  instrument  which  he  exhibited  at 
Venice.  It  is,  however,  unreasonable  to 


*  Even  Dutens,  whose  sole  aim  is  to  depreciate 
those  whom  modern  science  has  most  revered,  can 
not  pretend  to  show  that  the  ancients  made  use  of 
glasses  to  assist  vision.— Origine  des  Decouvertes, 
i.,  218. 


FROM  1COO  TO  1650. 


255 


regard  himself  as  the  inventor;  and  in 
this  respect  his  Italian  panegyrists  have 
gone  too  far.  The  original  sort  of  tele- 
scope, and  the  only  one  employed  in  Eu- 
rope for  above  thirty  years,  was  formed 
of  a  convex  object-glass  with  a  concave 
eyeglass.  This,  however,  has  the  dis- 
advantage of  diminishing  too  much  the 
space  which  can  be  taken  in  at  one  point 
of  view  ;  "  so  that,"  says  Montucla,  "  one 
can  hardly  believe  that  it  could  render 
astronomy  such  service  as  it  did  in  the 
hands  of  a  Galileo  or  a  Scheiner."  Kep- 
ler saw  the  principle  upon  which  another 
kind  might  be  framed  with  both  glasses 
convex.  This  is  now  called  the  astro- 
nomical telescope,  and  was  first  employed 
a  little  before  the  middle  of  the  century. 
The  former,  called  the  Dutch  telescope, 
is  chiefly  used  for  short  spying  glasses. 

46.  The  microscope  has  also  been  as- 
or  the  mi-  cribed  to  Galileo  ;  and  so  far  with 
croscope.     better  cause,  that  we  have  no 
proof  of  his  having  known  the  previous 
invention.     It  appears,  however,  to  have 
originated,  like  the  telescope,  in  Holland, 
and  perhaps  at  an  earlier  time.     Corne- 
lius Drebbel,  who  exhibited  the  micro- 
scope in  London  about   1620,  has  often 
passed  for  the  inventor.     It  is  suspected 
by  Montucla  that  the  first  microscope  had 
concave  eyeglasses ;  and  that  the  present 
form  with  two  convex  glasses  is  not  old- 
er than  the  invention  of  the  astronomical 
telescope. 

47.  Antonio  de  Dominis,  the  celebrated 
Antonio  de  archbishop  of  Spalatro,  in  a  book 
Dominis.     published  in  1611,  though  written 
several  years  before,  De  Radiis  Lucis  in 
Vitris    Perspectivis    et    Iride,    explained 
more  of  the  phenomena  of  the  rainbow 
than  was  then  understood.    The  varieties 
of  colour  had  baffled  all  inquirers,  though 
the  bow  itself  was  well  known  to  be  the 
reflection  of  solar  light  from  drops  of  rain. 
Antonio  de  Dominis,  to  account  for  these, 
had   recourse   to  refraction,   the   known 
means  of  giving  colour  to  the  solar  ray : 
and,  guiding  himself  by  the  experiment  of 
placing  between  the  eye  and  the  sun  a 
glass  bottle  of  water,  from  the  lower  side 
of  which  light  issued  in  the  same  order 
of  colours  as  in  the  rainbow,  he  inferred 
that  after  two  refractions  and  one  inter- 
mediate reflection  within  the  drop,  the  ray 
came  to  the  eye  tinged  with  different  col- 
ours, according  to  the  angle  at  which  it 
had  entered.     Kepler,  doubtless  ignorant 
of   De   Dominis's   book,  had    suggested 
nearly  the  same.     "  This,  though  not  a 
complete    theory   of   the    rainbow,    and 
though  it  left  a  great  deal  to  occupy  the 
attention,  first  of   Descartes,  and  after- 


ward of  Newton,  was  probably  just,  and 
carried  the  explanation  as  far  as  the  prin- 
ciples then  understood  allowed  it  to  go. 
The  discovery  itself  may  be  considered 
as  an  anomaly  in  science,  as  it  is  one  of  a 
very  refined  and  subtle  nature,  made  by  a 
man  who  has  given  no  other  indication  of 
much  scientific  sagacity  or  acuteness.  In 
many  things  his  writings  show  great  ig- 
norance of  principles  of  optics  well  known 
in  his  time,  so  that  Boscovich,  an  excel- 
lent judge  in  such  matters,  has  said  of 
him,  '  Homo  opticarum  rerum  supra  quod 
patiatur  ea  setas  imperitissirnus.'  "*  Mon- 
tucla is  hardly  less  severe  on  De  Dominis, 
who,  in  fact,  was  a  man  of  more  ingenious 
than  solid  understanding. 

48.  Descartes  announced  to  the  world 
in  his  Dioptrics,  1637,  that  he  Dioi)tric30i 
had  at  length  solved  the  mys-  Descartes, 
tery  which  had  concealed  the  j^on  .re" 
law  of  refraction.     He  showed 

that  the  sine  of  the  angle  of  incidence  at 
which  the  ray  enters  has,  in  the  same 
medium,  a  constant  ratio  to  that  of  the 
angle  at  which  it  is  refracted,  or  bent  in 
passing  through.  But  this  ratio  varies 
according  to  the  medium,  some  having  a 
much  more  refractive  power  than  others. 
This  was  a  law  of  beautiful  simplicity  as 
well  as  extensive  usefulness ;  but  such 
was  the  fatality,  as  we  would  desire  to 
call  it,  which  attended  Descartes,  that 
this  discovery  had  been  indisputably 
made,  twenty  years  before,  by  a  Dutch 
geometer  of  great  reputation,  Willibrod 
Snell.  The  treatise  of  Snell  had  never 
been  published ;  but  we  have  the  evi- 
dence both  of  Vossius  and  Huygens,  that 
Hortensius,  a  Dutch  professor,  had  pub- 
licly taught  ,the  discovery  of  his  country- 
man. Descartes  had  long  lived  in  Hol- 
land; privately,  it  is  true,  and,  by  his 
own  account,  reading  few  books  ;  so  that 
in  this,  as  in  other  instances,  we  may  be 
charitable  in  our  suspicions  ;  yet  it  is  un- 
fortunate that  he  should  perpetually  stand 
in  need  of  such  indulgence. 

49.  Fermat  did  not  inquire   whether 
Descartes  was  the  original  dis-  disputed  by 
coverer  of  the  law  of  refraction,  Fermat. 
but  disputed  its  truth.    Descartes,  indeed, 
had  not  contented  himself  with  experi- 
mentally ascertaining  it,  but,  in  his  usual 
manner,  endeavoured  to  show  the  path  of 
the   ray  by  direct   reasoning.     The  hy- 
pothesis he  brought  forward  seemed  not 
very  probable  to  Fermat,  nor  would  it  be 
permitted  at  present.    His  rival,  however, 
fell  into  the   same   error;    and,  starting 


*  Playfair,  Dissertation  on  Physical  Philosoohy, 
p.  119. 


256 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


from  an  equally  dubious  supposition  of 
his  own,  endeavoured  to  establish  the  true 
law  of  refraction.  He  was  surprised  to 
find  that,  after  a  calculation  founded  upon 
his  own  principle,  the  real  truth  of  a  con- 
stant ratio  between  the  sines  of  the  an- 
gles came  out  according  to  the  theorem 
of  Descartes.  Though  he  did  not  the 
more  admit  the  validity  of  the  latter's  hy- 
pothetical reasoning,  he  finally  retired 
from  the  controversy  with  an  elegant 
compliment  to  his  adversary. 

50.  In  the  Dioptrics  of  Descartes,  sev- 
Curves  of  eral  other  curious  theorems  are 
Descartes,  contained.  He  demonstrated  that 
there  are  peculiar  curves,  of  which  len- 
ses may  be  constructed,  by  the  refrac- 
tion from  whose  superficies  all  the  inci- 
dent rays  will  converge  to  a  focal  point, 
instead  of  being  spread,  as  in  ordinary 
lenses,  over  a  certain  extent  of  surface, 
commonly  called  its  spherical  aberration. 
The  effect  of  employing  such  curves  of 
glass  would  be  an  increase  of  illumina- 
tion, and  a  more  perfect  distinctness  of 
image.  These  curves  were  called  the 
ovals  of  Descartes ;  but  the  elliptic  or 
hyperbolic  speculum  would  answer  near- 
ly the  same  purpose.  The  latter  kind  has 
been  frequently  attempted ;  but,  on  ac- 
count of  the  difficulties  in  working  them, 
if  there  were  no  other  objection,  none  but 


spherical  lenses  are  in  use.  In  Descar- 
tes's  theory,  he  explained  the  equality  of 
the  angles  of  incidence  and  reflection  in 
the  case  of  light,  correctly  as  to  the  re- 
sult, though  with  the  assumption  of  a 
false  principle  of  his  own,  that  no  motion 
is  lost  in  the  collision  of  hard  bodies  such 
as  he  conceived  light  to  be.  Its  perfect 
elasticity  makes  his  demonstration  true. 

51.  Descartes  carried  the  theory  of  the 
rainbow  beyond  the  point  where  Theory  of 
Antonio  de  Dominis  had  left  it.  llie  rainbow. 
He  gave  the  true  explanation  of  the  outer 
bow  by  a  second  intermediate  reflection 
of  the  solar  ray  within  the  drop  ;  and  he 
seems  to  have  answered  the  question  most 
naturally  asked,  though  far  from  being  of 
obvious  solution,  why  all  this  refracted 
light  should  only  strike  the  eye  in  two 
arches  with  certain  angles  and  diameters, 
instead  of  pouring  its  prismatic  lustre  over 
all  the  raindrops  of  the  cloud.  He  found 
that  no  pencil  of  light  continued,  after 
undergoing  the  processes  of  refraction 
and  reflection  in  the  drop,  to  be  composed 
of  parallel  rays,  and,  consequently,  to 
possess  that  degree  of  density  which  fits 
it  to  excite  sensation  in  our  eyes,  except 
the  two  which  make  those  angles  with 
the  axis  drawn  from  the  sun  to  an  oppo- 
site point  at  which  the  two  bows  are  per- 
ceived. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

HISTORY    OF    SOME    OTHER    PROVINCES    OF    LITERATURE    FROM    1600    TO    1050. 


SECT.  I.     ON  NATURAL  HISTORY. 

Zoology. — Fabricius  on  Language  of  Brutes. — 
Botany. 

1.  THE  vast  collections  of  Aldrovandus 

X,drovandus.  ?n  zoolofy>  though  they  may 
be  considered  as  representing 
to  us  the  knowledge  of  the  sixteenth  cen- 
tury, were,  as  has  been  seen  before,  only 
published  in  a  small  part  before  its  close. 
The  fourth  and  concluding  part  of  his  Or- 
nithology appeared  in  1603  ;  the  History 
of  Insects  in  1604.  Aldrovandus  himself 
died  in  1605.  The  posthumous  volumes 
appeared  in  considerable  intervals  :  that 
on  molluscous  animals  and  zoophytes  in 
1606 ;  on  fishes  and  cetacea  in  1613  ;  on 
whole-hoofed  quadrupeds  in  1616  ;  on  di- 
gitate quadrupeds,  both  viviparous  and 
oviparous,  in  1637 ;  on  serpents  in  1640 ; 
and  on  cloven-hoofed  quadrupeds  in  1642. 
There  are  also  volumes  on  plants  and 
minerals.  These  were  all  printed  at  Bo- 


logna, and  most  of  them  afterward  at 
Frankfort ;  but  a  complete  collection  is 
very  rare. 

2.  In  the  Exotica  of  Clusius,  1605,  a 
miscellaneous  volume  on   natural  Clusiu& 
history,  chiefly,   but   not   wholly, 
consisting  of  translations  or  extracts  from 
older  works,  we  find  several  new  species  of 
simire,  the  manis,  or  scaly  ant-eater  of  the 
Old  World,  the  three-toed  sloth,  and  one 
or  two  armadilloes.    We  may  add  also  the 
since  'extinguished  race,  that  phoenix  of 
ornithologists,  the  much-lamented  dodo. 
This  portly  bird  is  delineated  by  Clusius, 
such  as  it  then  existed  in  the  Mauritius. 

3.  In  1648,  Piso  on  the  Materia  Medica 
of   Brazil,  together   with    Marc-  Rioand 
graf's    Natural   History    of    the  Marcgraf. 
same  country,  was  published  at  Leyden, 
with  notes  by  De  Laet.    The  descriptions 
of  Marcgraf  are  good,  and  enable  us  to 
identify  the   animals.     They  correct  the 
imperfect  notions  of  Gesner,  and  add  sev- 


FROM  1600  TO  1650. 


257 


eral  species  which  do  not  appear  in  his 
work,  or  perhaps  in  that  of  Aldrovan- 
dus  :  such  as  the  tamandua,  or  Brazilian 
ant-eater  ;  several  of  the  family  of  cavies ; 
the  coati-mondi,  which  Gesner  had  per- 
haps meant  in  a  defective  description;  the 
lama,  the  pacos,  the  jaguar,  and  some 
smaller  feline  animals ;  the  prehensile 
porcupine,  and  several  ruminants.  But 
some,  at  least,  of  these  had  been  already 
described  in  the  histories  of  the  West  In- 
dies, by  Hernandez  d'Ovideo,  Acosta,  and 
Herrera. 

4.  Jonston,  a  Pole  of  Scots  origin,  col- 
lected the  information  of  his  pred- 

Jonston.  .  ,T  ,    TT. 

ecessors  in  a  .Natural  History  of 
Animals,  published  in  successive  parts 
from  1648  to  1652.  The  History  of 
Quadrupeds  appeared  in  the  latter  year. 
"  The  text,"  says  Cuvier,  "  is  extracted, 
with  some  taste,  from  Gesner,  Aldrovan- 
dus,  Marcgraf,  and  Mouffet ;  and  it  an- 
swered its  purpose  as  an  elementary  work 
in  natural  history  till  Linnanis  taught  a 
more  accurate  method  of  classifying, 
naming,  and  describing  animals.  Even 
LinnaBiis  cites  him  continually."*  I  find 
in  Jonston  a  pretty  good  account  of  the 
chimpanzee  (Orang-outang  Indorum,  ab 
Angola  delatus),  taken,  perhaps,  from  the 
Observationes  Medicae  of  Tulpius.f  The 
delineations  in  Jonston  being  from  cop- 
perplates, are  superior  to  the  coarse  wood- 
cuts of  Gesner,  but  fail  sometimes  very 
greatly  in  exactness.  In  his  notions  of 
classification,  being  little  else  than  a  com- 
piler, it  may  be  supposed  that  he  did  not 
advance  a  step  beyond  his  predecessors. 
The  Theatrum  Insectorum,  by  Mouffet,  an 
English  physician  of  the  preceding  centu- 
ry, was  published  in  1634  ;  it  seems  to  be 
compiled,  in  a  considerable  degree,  from 
the  unpublished  papers  of  Gesner  and  for- 
eign naturalists,  whum  the  author  has 
rather  too  servilely  copied.  Haller,  how- 
ever, is  said  to  have  placed  Mouffet  above 
all  entomologists  before  the  age  of  Swam- 
merdam.J 


*  Biogr.  Univ. 

t  Grothis,  Flpist  ad  Gallos,  p.  21,  gives  an  ac- 
count of  a  chimpanzee,  monstrum  hoininis  dicam 
an  bestiae?  and  refers  to  Tulpius.  The  doubt  of 
Grotius  as  to  the  po.-sible  humanity  of  this  quam 
similis  turpissiaia  bestia  nobis  is  not  so  strange  as 
the  much  graver  language  of  Linnasus. 

|  Biogr.  Univ.  Chalmers.  I  am  no  judge  of 
the  merits  of  the  book  ;  but  if  the  following  sen- 
tence of  the  English  translation  does  it  no  injus- 
tice, Mouffet  must  have  taken  little  pains  to  do 
more  than  transcribe.  "  In  Germany  and  England 
1  do  not  hear  that  there  are  any  grasshoppers  at  all ; 
but  if  there  be,  they  are  in  both  countries  called 
Bow-krickets,  or  Baulm  krickets."— P.  989.  This 
translation  is  subjoined  to  Topsell's  History  of 
Four-footed  Beasts,  collected  out  of  Gesner  and 

VOL.  II.— K  K 


5.  We.  may  place  under  the  head  of  zo- 
ology a  short  essav  by  Fabricius  Fabriciusott 
de  Aquapendente  on  the  Ian-  the  language 
guage  of  brutes  ;  a  subject  very  01  brutes- 
curious  in  itself,  and  which  has  by  no 
means  sufficiently  attracted  notice  even 
in  this  experimental  age.  It  cannot  be 
said  that  Fabricius  enters  thoroughly  into 
the  problem,  much  less  exhausts  it.  He 
divides  the  subject  into  six  questions  :  1. 
Whether  brutes  have  a  language,  and  of 
what  kind  :  2.  How  far  it  differs  from  that 
of  man,  and  whether  the  languages  of  dif 
ferent  species  differ  from  one  another :  3. 
What  is  its  use  :  4.  In  what  modes  ani- 
mals express  their  affections :  5.  What 
means  we  have  of  understanding  their 
language :  6.  What  is  their  organ  of 
speech.  The  affirmative  of  the  first  ques- 
tion he  proves  by  authority  of  several 
writers,  confirmed  by  experience,  espe 
cially  of  hunters,  shepherds,  and  cow 
herds,  who  know  by  the  difference  of 
sounds  what  animals  mean  to  express. 
It  may  be  objected  that  brutes  utter 
sounds,  but  do  not  speak.  But  this  is 
merely  as  we  define  speech ;  and  he  at- 
tempts to  show  that  brutes,  by  varying 
their  utterance,  do  all  that  we  do  by  literal 
sounds.  This  leads  to  the  solution  of  the 
second  question.  Men  agree  with  brutes 
in  having  speech,  and  in  forming  ele- 
mentary sounds  of  determinate  time  ;  but 
ours  is  more  complex  ;  these  elementary 
sounds,  which  he  calls  arliculos,  or  joints 
of  the  voice,  being  quicker  and  more  nu- 
merous. Man,  again,  forms  his  sounds 
more  by  means  of  the  lips  and  tongue, 
which  are  softer  in  him  than  they  are  in 
brutes.  Hence  his  speech  runs  into  great 
variety  and  complication,  which  we  call 
language,  while  that  of  animals  within 
the  same  species  is  much  more  uniform. 

6.  The  question  as  to  the  use  of  speech 
to  bnjtes  is  not  difficult.  But  he  seems 
to  confine  this  utility  to  the  expression  of 
particular  emotions,  and  does  not  meddle 
with  the  more  curious  inquiry,  whether 
they  have  a  capacity  of  communicating 
specific  facts  to  one  another ;  and,  if  they 
have,  whether  this  is  done  through  the 
organs  of  the  voice.  The  fourth  question 
is,  in  how  many  modes  animals  express 
their  feelings.  These  are  by  look,  by 
gesture,  by  sound,  by  voice,  by  language. 
Fabricius  tells  us  that  he  had  seen  a  dog, 
meaning*  to  expel  another  dog  from  the 
place  he  wished  himself  to  occupy,  begin 
[>y  looking  fierce,  then  use  meaning  ges- 
tures, then  growl,  and  finally  bark.  In- 


others,  in  an  edition  of  1G5S.    The  first  edition  oi 
Topsell's  very  ordinary  composition  was  in  1608 


258 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


ferior  animals,  such  as  worms,  have  only 
the  two  former  sorts  of  communication. 
Fishes,  at  least  some  kinds,  have  a  power 
of  emitting  a  sound,  though  not  properly 
a  voice  ;  this  may  be  by  the  fins  or  gills. 
To  insects,  also,  he  seems  to  deny  voice, 
much  more  language,  though  they  declare 
their  feelings  by  sound.  Even  of  oxen, 
stags,  and  some  other  quadrupeds,  he 
would  rather  say  that  they  have  voice 
than  language.  But  cats,  dogs,  and  birds 
have  a  proper  language.  All,  however, 
are  excelled  by  man,  who  is  truly  called 
prpoi/;,  from  his  more  clear  and  distinct  ar- 
ticulations. 

7.  In  the  fifth  place,  however  difficult 
it  may  appear  to  understand  the  language 
of  brutes,  we  know  that  they  understand 
what  is  said  to  them ;  how  much  more, 
therefore,  ought  we,  superior  in  reason, 
to  understand  them.     He  proceeds  from 
hence  to   an  analysis   of   the   passions, 
which  he  reduces  to   four:  joy,  desire, 
grief,  and  fear.     Having  thus  drawn  our 
map  of  the  passions,  we  must  ascertain, 
by  observation,  what  are  the  articulations 
of  which  any  species  of  animals  is  capa- 
ble, which  cannot  be  done  by  description. 
His  own  experiments  were  made  on  the 
uog  and  the  hen.     Their  articulations  are 
sometimes   complex ;    as,  when    a    dog 
wants  to  come  into  his  master's  chamber, 
he  begins  by  a  shrill,  small  yelp,  express- 
ive of  desire,  which  becomes  deeper,  so 
as  to  denote  a  mingled  desire  and  annoy- 
ance, and  ends  in  a  lamentable  howl  of 
the  latter  feeling  alone.     Fabricius  gives 
several  other  rules,  deduced  from  obser- 
vation, of  dogs,  but  ends  by  confessing 
that  he  has  not  fully  attained  his  object, 
which  was  to  furnish  every  one  with  a 
compendious  method  of  understanding  the 
language  of  animals :   the  inquirer  must, 
therefore,  proceed  upon  these  rudiments, 
and  make  out  more  by  observation  and 
good  canine  society.     He  shows,  finally, 
from  the  different  structure  of  the  organs 
of  speech,  that  no  brute  can  ever  rival 
man;    their  chief  instrument  being  the 
throat,  which   we   use    only   for   vowel 
sounds.      Two   important   questions  are 
hardly  touched  in  this  little  treatise  :  first, 
as  has  been   said,  whether   brutes   can 
communicate  specific  facts  to  each  other ; 
and,  secondly,  to  what  extent  they  can 
associate  ideas  with  the  language  of  man. 
These  ought  to  occupy  our  excellent  nat- 
uralists. 

8.  Columna,  belonging  to  the  Colonna 
Botany:    family,  and  one  of  the  greatest 
Columna.  botanists  of  the  sixteenth  centu- 
ry, maintained  the  honour  of  that  science 
during  the  present  period,  which  his  long 


life  embraced.  In  the  Academy  of  the 
Lincei,  founded  by  Prince  Frederic  Cesi 
about  1606,  and  to  which  the  revival  of 
natural  philosophy  is  greatly  due,  Colum- 
na took  a  conspicuous  share.  His  Ec- 
phrasis,  a  history  of  rare  plants,  was  pub- 
lished in  two  parts  at  Rome,  in  1606  and 
1616.  In  this  he  laid  down  the  true  basis 
of  the  science,  by  establishing  the  distinc- 
tion of  genera,  which  Gesner,  Caesalpin, 
and  Camerarius  had  already  conceived, 
but  which  it  was  left  for  Columna  to  con- 
firm and  employ.  He  alone,  of  all  the 
contemporary  botanists,  seems  to  have 
appreciated  the  luminous  ideas  which 
Csesalpin  had  bequeathed  to  posterity.* 
In  his  posthumous  observations  on  the 
natural  history  of  Mexico  by  Hernandez, 
he  still  farther  developed  the  philosophy 
of  botanical  arrangements.  Columna  is 
the  first  who  used  copper  instead  of  wood 
to  delineate  plants  ;  an  improvement 
which  soon  became  general.  This  was 
in  the  <bvTo6a.Gavoz,  sive  Plantarum  aliquot 
Historia,  1594.  There  are  errors  in  this 
work ;  but  it  is  remarkable  for  the  accu- 
racy of  the  descriptions,  and  for  the  cor- 
rectness and  beauty  of  the  figures. f 

9.  Two  brothers,  John  and  Caspar  Bau- 
hin,  inferior  in  philosophy  to  Co-  John  and 
lumna,  made  more  copious  addi-  Gaspar 
tions  to  the  nomenclature  and  de-  Bauhm- 
scription  of  plants.  The  eldei,  who  was 
born  in  1541,  and  had  acquired  some  ce- 
lebrity as  a  botanist  in  the  last  century, 
lived  to  complete,  but  not  to  publish,  a 
Historia  Plantarum  Universalis,  which  did 
not  appear  till  1650.  It  contains  the  de- 
scriptions of  5000  species,  and  the  figures 
of  3577,  but  small  and  ill-executed.  His 
brother,  though  much  younger,  had  prece- 
ded him,  not  only  by  the  Phytopinax  in 
1596,  but  by  his  chief  work,  the  Pinax 
Theatri  Botanici,  in  1623.  "  Gaspar  Bau- 
hin,"  says  a  modern  botanist,  "  is  inferior 
to  his  brother  in  his  descriptions  and  in 
sagacity  ;  but  his  delineations  are  better, 
and  his  synonymes  more  complete.  They 
are  both  "below  Clusius  in  description,  and 
below  several  older  botanists  in  their  fig- 
ures. In  their  arrangement  they  follow 
Lobel,  and  have  neglected  the  lights  which 
Caesalpin  and  Columna  had  held  out. 
Their  chief  praise  is  to  have  brought  to- 
gether a  great  deal  of  knowledge  acquired 
by  their  predecessors,  but  the  merit  of 
both  has  been  exaggerated-''^ 


*  Biogr.  Univ.  t  Id.,  Sprengel. 

t  Biogr.  Univ.  Pulteney  speaks  more  highly  of 
John  Bauhin.  "  That  which  Gesner  performed  for 
zoology,  John  Bauhin  effected  in  botany.  It  is,  in 
reality,  a  repository  of  all  that  was  valuable  in  the 
ancients,  in  his  immediate  predecessors,  and  in  the 


FROM  1600  TO  1650. 


259 


10.  Johnson,  in  1636,  published  an  edi- 
tion of  Gerard's  Herbal.  But  the 
'•  Theatrum  Botanicum  of  Parkin- 
son, in  1640,  is  a  work,  says  Pulteney,  of 
much  more  originality  than  Gerard's,  and 
it  contains  abundantly  more  matter.  We 
find  in  it  near  3800  plants ;  but  many  de- 
scriptions recur  more  than  once.  The 
arrangement  is  in  seventeen  classes,  part- 
ly according  to  the  known  or  supposed 
qualities  of  the  plant,  and  partly  according 
to  their  external  character.*  "  This  het- 
erogeneous classification,  which  seems  to 
be  founded  on  that  of  Dodoens,  shows  the 
small  advances  that  had  been  made  to- 
wards any  truly  scientific  distribution ; 
on  the  contrary,  Gerard,  Johnson,  and 
Parkinson  had  rather  gone  back,  by  not 
sufficiently  pursuing  the  example  of  Lo- 
bel." 


SECT.  II.     ON  ANATOMY  AND  MEDICINE. 

Claims  of  early  Writers  to  the  Discovery  of  the 
Circulation  of  the  Blood.  —  Harvey.  —  Lacteal 
Vessels  discovered  by  Asellius. — Medicine. 

11.  THE  first  important  discovery  that 
Valves  of    was  made  public  in  this  century 
the  veins     was  that  of  the   valves   of  the 
discovered,  veins,  which  is  justly  ascribed 
to  Fabricius  de  Aqu'apendente,  a  professor 
at  Padua  ;  because,  though  some  of  these 
valves  are  described  even  by  Berenger, 
and  farther  observations  were  made  on 
the  subject  by  Sylvius,  Vesalius,  and  other 
anatomists,  yet  Fallopius  himself  had,  in 
this  instance,  thrown  back  the  science  by 
denying  their  existence,  and  no  one  before 
Fabricius  had  generalized  the  discovery. 
This  he  did  in  his  public  lectures  as  early 
as  1524;  but  his  tract  De  Venarum  Osti- 
olis  appeared  in  1603.      This  discovery, 
as  well  as  that  of  Harvey,  has  been  at- 
tributed to  Father  Paul  Sarpi,  whose  im- 
mense reputation  in  the  north  of  Italy  ac- 
credited every  tale  favourable  to  his  glory. 
But  there  seems  to  be  no  sort  of  ground 
for  either  supposition. 

12.  The  discovery  of  a  general  circula- 
Theoryof    ^on  m  tne  blood  has  done  such 
the  blood's  honour  to  Harvey's  name,  and 
circulation  nas  been  claimed  for  so  many 
others,  that  it  deserves  more  considera- 
tion than  we  can  usually  give  to  anatomi- 
cal science.     According  to  Galen,  and  the 
general  theory  of  anatomists  formed  by 
his  writings,  the  arterial  blood  flows  from 


discoveries  of  his  own  time  relating  to  the  history 
of  vegetables,  and  is  executed  with  that  accuracy 
and  critical  judgment  which  can  only  be  exhibited 
by  superior  talents."— Hist,  of  Botany  in  England, 
i.,  190.  *  P.  146. 


the  heart  to  the  extremities,  and  returns 
again  by  the  same  channels,  the  venous 
blood  being  propelled,  in  like  manner,  to 
and  from  the  liver.  The  discovery  attrib- 
uted to  Harvey  was,  that  the  arteries 
communicate  w'ith  the  veins,  and  that  all 
the  blood  returns  to  the  heart  by  the  lat- 
ter vessels.  Besides  this  general  or  sys- 
tematic circulation,  there  is  one  called  the 
pulmonary,  in  which  the  blood  is  carried 
by  certain  arteries  through  the  lungs,  and 
returned  again  by  corresponding  veins, 
preparatory  to  its  being  sent  into  the 
general  sanguineous  system ;  so  that  its 
course  is  through  a  double  series  of  rami- 
fied vessels,  each  beginning  and  termina- 
ting at  the  heart,  but  not  at  the  same  side 
of  the  heart ;  the  left  sidt ,  which,  from  a 
cavity  called  its  ventricle,  throws  out  the 
arterial  blood  by  the  aorta,  and  by  an- 
other, called  its  auricle,  receives  that 
which  has  passed  through  the  lungs  by 
the  pulmonary  vein,  being  separated  by  a 
solid  septum  from  the  right  side,  which, 
by  means  of  similar  cavities,  receives  the 
blood  of  all  the  veins,  excepting  those  of 
the  lungs,  and  throws  it  out  into  the  pul- 
monary artery.  It  is  thus  evident  that 
the  word  pulmonary  circulation  is  not 
strictly  proper,  there  being  only  one  for 
the  whole  body. 

13.  The  famous  work  of  Servetus, 
Christianismi  Restitutio,  has  ex-  Sometirne8 
cited  the  attention  of  the  literary  ascribed  to 
part  of  the  world,  not  only  by  the  Servetus; 
unhappy  fate  it  brought  upon  the  author, 
and  its  extreme  scarcity,  but  by  a  remark- 
able passage  wherein  he  has  been  suppo- 
sed to  describe  the  circulation  of  the  blood. 
That  Servetus  had  a  just  idea  of  the  pul- 
monary circulation  and  the  aeration  of  the 
blood  in  the  lungs,  is  manifest  by  this 
passage,  and  is  denied  by  no  one ;  but  it 
has  been  the  opinion  of  anatomists  that  he 
did  not  apprehend  the  return  of  the  mass 
of  the  blood  through  the  veins  to  the  right 
auricle  of  the  heart.* 


*  In  the  first  volume  of  this  work,  p.  239,  I  have 
observed  that  Levasseur  had  come  much  nearer  to 
the  theory  of  a  general  circulation  than  Servetus. 
But  the  passage  in  Levasseur,  which  I  knew  only 
from  the  quotation  in  Portal,  Hist,  de  I'Anatomie, 
i.,  373,  does  not,  on  consulting  the  book  itself,  bear 
out  the  inference  which  Portal  seems  to  deduce ; 
and  he  has,  not  quite  rightly,  omitted  all  expressions 
which  he  thought  erroneous.  Thus  Levasseur  pre- 
cedes the  first  sentence  of  Portal's  quotation  by  the 
following:  Intus  (in  corde)  sunt  sinus  seu  ven- 
triculi  duo  tantum,  septo  quodam  medio  discreti, 
per  CM/US  foramina  sanguis  et  spiritus  cornmunicatur. 
In  utroque  duo  vasa  habentur.  For  this  he  quotes 
Galen ;  and  the  perforation  of  the  septum  of  the 
heart  is  known  to  be  one  of  Galen's  errors.  Upon 
the  whole,  there  seems  no  ground  for  believing  that 
Levasseur  was  acquainted  with  the  general  circu- 
lation ;  and  though  his  language  may  at  first  lead 


260 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


14.  Columbus  is  acknowledged  to  have  ' 

been  acquainted  with  the  pulmo- ' 

to  Columbus ;  nary  circulation>     He  says  of: 

his  own  discovery,  that  no  one  had  ob-  j 

us  to  believe  that  he  speaks  of  that  through  the 
lung",  even  this  is  not  distinctly  made  out.    Spren-  ' 
gel,  in  his  History  of  Medicine,  does  not  mention  i 
the  name  of  Levasseur  (or  Vassaeus,  as  he  was  j 
called  in  Latin)  among  those  who  anticipated,  in  | 
any  degree,  the  discovery  of  circulation.   The  book 
quoted  by  Portal  is  Vassjeus  in  Anatomen  Corporis  ' 
Humani  Tabulae  Quatuor,  several   times  printed  i 
between  1540  and  1560. 

Andres  (Origine  e  Progressio  d'Ogni  Litteratura,  : 
vol.  xiv.,  p.  37)  has  put  in  a  claim  for  a  Spanish  far- 
rier, by  name  Reina,  who,  in  a  book  printed  in  1552,  ! 
but  of  which  there  seems  to  have  been  an  earlier 
edition  (Libro  di  Maniscalcheria  hecho  y  ordenado 
por  Francisco  de  la  Reyna),  asserts  in  few  and  plain 
words,  as  Andres  quotes  them  in  Italian,  that  the 
blood  goes  in  a  circle  through  all  the  limbs.  1  do 
not  know  that  the  book  has  been  seen  by  any  one 
else;  and  it  would  be  desirable  to  examine  the  con- 
text, since  other  writers  have  seemed  to  know  the 
truth  without  really  apprehending  it. 

That  Servetus  was  only  acquainted  with  the 
pulmonary  circulation  has  been  the  general  opinion. 
Portal,  though  in  one  place  he  speaks  with  less  I 
precision,  repeatedly  limits  the  discovery  to  this ; 
and  Spreugel  does  not  entertain  the  least  suspicion 
that  it  went  farther.  Andres  (xiv.,  38),  not  cer- 
tainly a  medical  authority,  but  conversant  with 
such,  and  very  partial  to  Spanish  claimants,  asserts 
the  same.  If  a  more  general  language  may  be 
found  in  some  writers,  it  may  be  ascribed  to  their 
want  of  distinguishing  the  two  circulations.  A 
medical  friend,  who,  at  my  request,  perused  and 
considered  the  passage  in  Servetus,  as  it  is  quoted 
in  Allwoerden's  life,  says  in  a  letter,  "  All  that  this 
passage  implies  which  has  any  reference  to  the 
greater  circulation,  may  be  comprised  in  the  follow-  j 
ing  points:  1.  That  the  heart  tiansmits  a  vivifying 
principle  along  the  arteries  and  the  blood  which  | 
they  contain  to  the  anastomosing  veins.  2.  That 
this  living  principle  vivifies  the  liver  and  the  venous 
system  generally :  3.  That  the  liver  produces  the 
blood  itself,  and  transmits  it  through  the  vena  cava 
to  the  heart,  in  order  to  obtain  the  vital  principle, 
by  performing  the  lesser  circulation,  which  Serve- 
tus seems  perfectly  to  comprehend. 

"  Now,  according  to  this  view  of  the  passage,  all 
the  movement  of  the  blood  implied  is  that  which 
takes  place  from  the  liver,  through  the  vena  cava  to 
the  heart,  and  that  of  the  lesser  circulation.  It 
would  appear  to  me  that  Servetus  is  on  the  brink 
of  the  discovery  of  the  circulation ;  but  that  his 
notions  respecting  the  transmission  of  his  'vitalis 
spiritus'  diverted  Kis  attention  from  that  great 
movement  of  the  blood  itself  which  Harvey  discov- 
ered. ...  It  is  clear  that  the  quantity  of  blood  sent 
to  the  heart  for  the  elaboration  of  the  vital  spiritus 
is,  according  to  Servetus,  only  that  furnished  by  the 
liver  to  the  vena  cava  inferior.  But  the  blood  thus 
introduced  is  represented  by  him  as  performing  the 
circulation  through  the  lungs  very  regularly." 

It  appears  singular  that,  while  Servetus  distinct- 
ly knew  that  the  septum  of  the  heart,  paries  ille 
medius,  as  he  calls  it,  is  closed,  which  Beroger 
had  discovered,  and  Vesalius  confirmed  (though  The 
bulk  of  anatomists  longafterward  adhered  toGalen's 
notion  of  perforation),  and,  consequently,  that  some 
other  means  must  exist  for  restoring  the  blood  from 
the  left  division  of  the  heart  to  the  right,  he  should 
not  have  seen  the  necessity  of  a  system  of  vessels 
to  carry  forward  this  communication. 


served  or  consigned  it  to  writing  before. 
Arantius,  according  to  Portal,  has  descri- 
bed the  pulmonary  circulation  still  better 
than  Columbus,  while  Sprengel  denies  that 
he  has  described  it  all.  It  is  perfectly 
certain,  and  is  admitted  on  all  sides,  that 
Columbus  did  not  know  the  systemic  cir- 
culation :  in  what  manner  he  disposed  of 
the  blood  does  not  very  clearly  appear; 
but,  as  he  conceived  a  passage  to  exist 
between  the  ventricles  of  the  heart,  it  is 
probable,  though  his  words  do  not  lead  to 
this  inference,  that  lie  supposed  the  aera- 
ted blood  to  be  transmitted  back  in  this 
course.* 

15.  Ceesalpin,  whose  versatile  genius 
entered  upon  every  field  of  re-  and  to  cat- 
search,  has,  in  more  than  one  of  saipin. 
his  treatises  relating  to  very  different 
topics,  and  especially  in  that  upon  plants, 
some  remarkable  passages  on  the  same 
subject,  which  approach  more  nearly  than 
any  we  have  seen,  to  a  just  notion  of  the 
general  circulation,  and  have  led  several 
writers  to  insist  on  his  claim  as  a  prior 
discoverer  to  Harvey.  Portal  admits  that 
this  might  be  regarded  as  a  fair  pretension, 
if  he  were  to  judge  from  such  passages ; 
but  there  are  others  which  contradict  this 
supposition,  and  show  Caesalpin  to  have 
had  a  confused  and  imperfect  idea  of  the 
office  of  the  veins.  Sprengel,  though  at 
first  he  seems  to  inelm'e  more  towards  the 
pretensions  of  Cassalpin,  comes  ultimately 
almost  to  the  same  conclusion  ;  and,  giving 
the  reader  the  words  of  most  importance, 
leaves  him  to  form  his  own  judgment. 
The  Italians  are  more  confident :  Tira- 
boschi  and  Corniani,  neither  of  whom  is 
medical  authority,  put  in  an  unhesitating 
claim  for  Ccesalpin  as  the  discoverer  of 


*  The  leading  passage  in  Columbus  (De  Re 
Anatomica,  lib.  vii ,  p.  177,  edit.  1559),  which  1  have 
not  found  quoted  by  Portal  or  Sprengel,  is  as  fol- 
lows: Inter  kos  ventriculos  septum  adest,  per  quod 
fere  onrnes  existimant  sanguini  a  dextro  ventriculo 
ad  sinistrnm  p.ditum  pateficri ;  id  ut  fieret  facilius, 
in  transitu  ob  vitalium  spirituum  generationem 
demum  reddi ;  sed  longa  errant  via ;  nam  sanguis 
per  arteriosam  venam  ad  pulmonem  fertur  ;  ibique 
attenuatur;  deinde  cum  aere  una  per  arteriam 
venalem  ad  sinistrum  cordis  ventriculum  defertur; 
quod  nemo  hactenus  aut  animadvertit  aut  scriptum 
reliquit ;  licet  maxim&  et  ab  omnibus  animadverten- 
dum.  He  afterward  makes  a  remark,  in  which 
Servetus  had  preceded  him,  that  the  size  of  the 
pulmonary  artery  (vena  arteriosa)  is  greater  than 
would  be  required  for  the  nutrition  of  the  lungs 
alone.  Whether  he  knew  of  the  passages  in  Ser- 
vetus or  no,  notwithstanding  his  claim  of  originality, 
is  not  perhaps  manifest :  the  coincidence  as  to  the 
function  of  the  lungs  in  aerating  the  blood  is  re 
markable  ;  but,  if  Columbus  had  any  direct  knowl 
edge  of  the  Christianismi  Restitutio,  he  did  not 
choose  to  follow  it  in  the  remarkable  discovery 
that  there  is  no  perforation  in  the  septum  between 
the  ventricles. 


FROM  1COO  TO  1650. 


261 


the  circulation  of  the  blood,  not  without 
unfair  reflections  on  Harvey.* 

16.  It  is  thus  manifest,  that  several  anat- 
Generaiiy  un-  omists  of  the  sixteenth  century 
known  before  were  on  the  verge  of  complete- 
uarvey.         jy  detecting  the  law  by  which 
the  motion  of  the  blood  is  governed ;  and 
the  language  of  one  is  so  strong,  that  we 
must  have  recourse,  in  order  to  exclude 
his  claim,  to  the  irresistible  fact  that  he 
did  not  confirm  by  proof  his  own  theory, 
nor  announce  it  in  such  a  manner  as  to 
attract  the  attention  of  the  world.     Cer- 
tainly, when  the  doctrine  of  a  general  cir- 
culation was  advanced  by  Harvey,  ha  both 
announced  it  as  a  paradox,  and  was  not 
deceived  in  expecting  that  it  would  be  so 
accounted.     Those,  again,  who  strove  to 
depreciate  his  originality,  sought  intima- 
tions in  the  writings  of  the  ancients,  and 
even  spread  a  rumour  that  he  had  stolen 
the  papers  of  Father  Paul ;  but  it  does  not 
appear  that  they  talked,  like  some  mod- 
erns,  of  plagiarism   from   Levasseur  or 
Caesalpin. 

17.  William  Harvey  first  taught  the  cir- 

culation of  the  blood  in  London 

His  discovery.  .    but  ^  Exercitatio  de 


*  Tiraboschi, x.,49.  Corniani.vi.,  8.  Hequotes, 
on  the  anttiority  of  another  Italian  writer,  il  giitdi- 
zio  di  due  illustri  Inglesi,  i  fratelli  Hunter,  i  quali, 
esaminato  bene  il  processo  di  questa  causa,  si  mara- 
vigliano  della  sentenza  data  in  favors  del  luro  concitta- 
dino.  I  must  doubt,  till  more  evidence  is  produced, 
whether  this  be  true. 

The  passage  in  Csesalpin's  Quaestiones  Peripatet- 
ics? is  certainly  the  most  resembling  a  statement 
of  the  entire  truth  that  can  be  found  in  any  writer 
before  Harvey.  1  transcribe  it  from  Dutens's  Origine 
des  Decouvertes,  vol.  ii ,  p.  23.  Ideirco  pulmo  per 
venam  arteriis  sirnilein  ex  dextro  cordis  ventriculo 
fervidum  hauriens  sanguinem,  eumque  per  anasto- 
mosin  arteriae  venali  reddens,  quae  in  sinistrum 
cordis  ventriculum  tendit,  transmisso  interim  acre 
frigido  per  aspera?  arteriffi  canales,  qui  juxta  arteriam 
venalem  protenduntur,  non  tameri  osculis  com- 
municantes,  ut  putavit  Galenas,  solo  tactu  tempera t. 
Huic  sanguinis  circulation!  ex  dextro  cordis  ven- 
triculo per  pulmones  in  sinistrum  ejusdem  ven- 
triculum optime  respondent  ea  quae  ex  dissectione 
apparent.  Nam  duo  sunt  vasa  in  dextrym  ventricu- 
lum desinetuia,  duo  eti-.im  in  sinistrum:  duorum 
autem  unurn  intromittit  tantum,  alterum  educit, 
inembrams  eo  ingenio  constitutis.  Vas  igitur  in- 
tromittens  vena  et  magna  quidem  in  dextro,  qua) 
cava  appellatur  ;  parva  autem  in  sinistro  ex  pul- 
mone  introducens,  cujus  unica  est  tunica,  et  caete- 
rarum  venarum.  Vas  autem  educens  arteria  est 
magna  quidem  in  sinistro,  quae  aorta  appellatur; 
parva  autem  in  dextro,  ad  pulmones  derivans,  cujus 
siimliter  d<ias  sunt  tunica;,  ut  in  cateris  arteriis. 

In  the  treatise  De  Plantis  we  have  a  similar,  but 
shorter  passage.  Nam  in  anirnalibus  vidimus  ali- 
mentum  per  venas  duci  ad  cor  tanquam  ad  officinam 
caloris  insiti,  et  adepta  inibi  ultima  perfectione,  per 
arterias  in  universum  corpus  distribui  agente  spiritu, 
qui  ex  eodem  alimento  in  corde  gignitur.  I  have 
taken  this  from  the  article  of  Caesalpin  in  the 
Biographic  Universelle. 


Motu  Cordis  was  not  published  till  1628. 
He  was  induced,  as  is  said,  to  conceive 
the  probability  of  this  great  truth  by  re- 
flecting on  the  final  cause  of  those  valves, 
which  his  master,  Fabricius  de  Aquapen- 
dente,  had  demonstrated  in  the  veins ; 
valves  whose  structure  was  such  as  to 
prevent  the  reflux  of  the  blood  towards  the 
extremities.  Fabricius  himself  seems  to 
have  been  ignorant  of  this  structure,  and 
certainly  of  the  circulation ;  for  he  pre- 
sumes that  they  serve  to  prevent  the  blood 
from  flowing  like  a  river  towards  the  feet 
and  hands,  and  from  collecting  in  one  part. 
Harvey  followed  his  own  happy  conjec- 
ture by  a  long  inductive  process  of  ex- 
periments on  the  effects  of  ligatures,  and 
on  the  observed  motion  of  the  blood  in 
living  animals. 

18.  Portal  has  imputed  to  Harvey  an 
unfair  silence  as  to  Servetus,  tjnjusliy 
Columbus,  Levasseur,  and  Caesal-  doubted  to 
pin,  who  had  all  preceded  him  be  ™w™1- 
iu  the  same  track.  Tiraboschi  copies 
Portal,  and  Corniani  speaks  of  the  appro- 
priation of  Cassalpin's  discovery  by  Har- 
vey. It  may  be  replied,  that  no  one  can 
reasonably  suppose  Harvey  to  have  been 
acquainted  with  the  passage  in  Servetus. 
But  the  imputation  of  suppressing  the 
merits  of  Columbus  is  grossly  unjust,  and 
founded  upon  ignorance  or  forgetfulness 
of  Harvey's  celebrated  Exercitation.  In 
the  procemium  to  this  treatise  he  observes, 
that  almost  all  anatomists  have  hitherto 
supposed  with  Galen,  that  the  mechanism 
of  the  pulse  is  the  same  as  that  of  respira- 
tion. But  he  not  less  than  three  times 
makes  an  exception  for  Columbus,  to 
whom  he  most  expressly  refers  the  theory 
of  a  pulmonary  circulation.*  Of  Caesalpin 
ho  certainly  says  nothing ;  but  there  seems 
to  be  no  presumption  that  he  was  acquaint- 
ed with  that  author's  writings.  Were  it 
even  true  that  he  had  been  guided  in  his 
researches  by  the  obscure  passages  we 
have  quoted,  could  this  set  aside  the  merit 
of  that  patient  induction  by  which  he  es- 
tablished his  own  theory  f  Caesalpin  as- 


*  Pssne  omnes  hue  usque  anatomici  medici  et 
philosophi  supponunt  cum  Galeno  eundem  usum 
esse  pulsus,  quam  respirationis.  But  though  he 
certainly  claims  the  doctrine  of  a  general  circulation 
as  wholly  his  own,  and  counts  it  a  paradox  which 
will  startle  every  one,  he  as  expressly  refers  (p.  38 
and  41  of  the  Exercitatio)  that  of  a  pulmonary 
transmission  of  the  blood  to  Columbus,  peritissimo, 
doctissimoque  anatomico  ;  and  observes,  in  his  pro- 
cemium, as  an  objection  to  the  received  theory, 
quomodo  probabile  est  (uti  notavit  Rualdus  Colum- 
bus) tanto  sanguine  opus  esse  ad  r.utritionern  pul 
monuin,  cum  hoc  vas,  vena  videlicet  arteriosa  [hoc 
est,  uti  turn  loquebantur,  arteria  pulmonalis]  ex- 
superet  magtiitudine  utrumque  rainum  distribution 
is  vena?  cavae  descendentis  cruralem,  p.  16. 


262 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


serts  at  best,  what  we  may  say  he  divined, 
but  did  riot  know  to  be  true :  Harvey  as- 
serts what  he  had  demonstrated.  The 
one  is  an  empiric  in  a  philosophical  sense, 
the  other  a  legitimate  minister  of  truth. 
It  has  been  justly  said,  that  he  alone  dis- 
covers who  proves ;  nor  is  there  a  more 
odious  office,  or  a  more  sophistical  course 
of  reasoning,  than  to  impair  the  credit  of 
great  men,  as  Dutens  wasted  his  erudition 
in  doing,  by  hunting  out  equivocal  and  in- 
sulated passages  from  older  writers,  in 
order  to  depreciate  the  originality  of  the 
real  teachers  of  mankind.*  It  may,  in- 
deed, be  thought  wonderful  that  Servetus, 
Columbus,  or  Caesalpin  should  not  have 
more  distinctly  apprehended  the  conse- 
quences of  what  they  maintained,  since  it 
seems  difficult  to  conceive  the  lesser  cir- 
culation without  the  greater;  but  the  de- 
fectiveness  of  their  views  is  not  to  be  al- 
leged as  a  counterbalance  to  the  more 
steady  sagacity  of  Harvey.  The  solution 
of  their  falling  so  short  is  that  they  were 
right,  not  indeed  quite  by  guess,  but  upon 
insufficient  proof;  and  that  the  conscious- 
ness of  this,  embarrassing  their  minds, 
prevented  them  from  deducing  inferences 
which  now  appear  irresistible.  In  every 
department  of  philosophy,  the  researches 
of  the  first  inquirers  have  often  been  ar- 
rested by  similar  causes. f 


*  This  is  the  general  character  of  a  really  learned 
and  interesting  work  by  Dutens,  Origine  des  De- 
couvertes  attributes  aux  Modernes.  Justice  is  due 
to  those  who  have  first  struck  out,  even  without 
following  up,  original  ideas  in  any  science  ;  but  not 
at  the  expense  of  those  who,  generally  without 
knowledge  of  what  had  been  said  before,  have  de- 
duced the  same  principles  from  reasoning  or  fro«i 
observation,  and  carried  them  out  to  important  con- 
sequences. Pascal  quotes  Montaigne  for  the  shrewd 
remark,  that  we  should  try  a  man  who  says  a  wise 
thing,  for  we  may  often  find  that  he  does  not  under- 
stand it.  Those  who  entertain  a  morbid  jealousy 
of  modern  philosophy  are  glad  to  avail  themselves 
of  such  hunters  into  obscure  antiquity  as  Dutens, 
and  they  are  seconded  by  all  the  envious,  the  un- 
candid,  and  by  many  of  the  unreflecting  among 
mankind.  With  respect  to  the  immediate  question, 
the  passages  which  Dutens  has  quoted  from  Hip- 
pocrates and  Plato  have  certainly  an  appearance 
of  expressing  a  real  circulation  of  the  blood  by  the 
words  irepioSos  and  irtpt<f>epofitvov  al^aros ',  but  others, 
and  especially  one  from  Nernesius,  on  which  some 
reliance  has  been  placed,  mean  nothing  more  than 
the  flux  and  reflux  of  the  blood,  which  the  contrac- 
tion and  dilatation  of  the  heart  was  supposed  to  pro- 
duce.— See  Dutens,  vol.  ii.,  p.  8-13.  Mr.  Coleridge 
has  been  deceived  in  the  same  manner  by  some 
lines  of  Jordano  Bruno,  which  he  takes  to  describe 
the  circulation  of  the  blood  ;  whereas  they  merely 
express  its  movement  to  and  fro,  meat  et  remeat, 
which  might  be  by  the  same  system  of  vessels. 

t  The  biographer  of  Harvey  in  the  Biographic 
Universelle  strongly  vindicates  his  claim.  Tous 
les  hommes  instruits  conviennent  aujourd'hui  que 
Harvey  est  la  veritable  auteur  de  cette  belle  decou- 
Terte.  .  .  .  Cesalpin  pressentoit  la  circulation  arte- 


19.  Harvey  is  the  author  of  a  treatise, 
on  generation,  wherein  lie  main-  narvey-s 
tains  that  all  animals,  including  treatise  on 
men,  are  derived  from  an  egg.  Genera|ion- 
In  this  book  we  first  find  an  argument 
maintained  against  spontaneous   genera- 
tion, which,  in  the  case  of  the  lower  ani- 
mals, had  been  generally  received.    Spren- 
gel   thinks   this   treatise  prolix,  and  not 
equal  to  the  author's  reputation.*     It  was 
first  published  in  1651. 

20.  Next  in  importance  to  the  discovery 
of  Harvey  is  that  of  Asellius  as  i,ncteals 
to  the  lacteal  vessels.     Eusta-  discovered 
chius  had  observed  the  thoracic  bv  Asellius- 
duct  in  a  horse.     But  Asellius,  more  by 
chance,  as  he  owns,  than  by  reflection, 
perceived  the  lacteals  in  a  fat  dog  which 
he  opened  soon  after  it  had  eaten.     This 
was  in  1622,  and  his  treatise  De  Lacteis 
Venis  was  published  in  1627. f     Harvey 
did  not  assent  to  this  discovery,  and  en- 
deavoured to  dispute  the  use  of  the  ves- 
sels ;  nor  is  it  to  his  honour  that,  even  to 
the  end  of  his  life,  he  disregarded  the  sub- 
sequent confirmation  that    Pecquet   and 
Bartholin  had   furnished.^     The   former 
detected  the  common  origin  of  the  lacteal 
and  lymphatic  vessels  in  1647,  though  his 
work  on  the  subject  was  not  published  till 
1651.     But  Olaus  Rudbeck  was  the  first 
who  clearly  distinguished  these  two  kinds 
of  vessels. 

21.  Scheiner,  the  Jesuit,  proved  that  the 
retina  is  the  organ  of  sight,  and  Optical  dif). 
that  the  humours  serve  only  to  coveries  of 
refract  the  rays  which  paint  the  Scheiner- 
object  on  the  optic  nerve.     This  was  in  a 
treatise  entitled  Oculus,  hoc  est,  Funda- 
mentum  Opticum,  1619. §     The  writings 
of  several  anatomists  of  this  period,  such 
as  Riolan,  Vesling,  Bartholin,  contain  par- 
tial accessions  to  the  science ;  but  it  seems 
to  have  been  less  enriched  by  great  dis- 
coveries, after  those  already  named,  than 
in  the  preceding  century. 

22.  The  mystical  medicine  of  Paracel- 
sus continued  to  have  many  ad-  MediCjne. 
vocates    in    Germany.      A    new  vanHei-" 
class  of  enthusiasts  sprung  from  Inont- 
the  same  school,  and,  calling  themselves 


rielle,  en  supposant  que  le  sang  retourne  des  extrem- 
ites  au  coeur ;  mais  ces  assertions  ne  furent  point 
prouvees  ;  elles  ne  se  trouverent  etayees  par  ancune 
experience,  par  aucun  fait;  et  1'on  pent  dire  do 
Cesalpin  qu'il  divina  presque  la  grande  circulation 
dont  les  lois  lui  furent  totalement  inconnues ;  la 
de'couverte  en  4tait  reservee  a  Guillanme  Harvey 

*  Hist,  de  la  Medecine,  iv.,  299.     Portal,  ii.,  477. 

t  Portal,  ii.,  461.  Sprengel,  iv.,  201.  Peiresc 
soon  after  this  got  the  body  of  a  man  fresh  hanged 
after  a  good  supper,  and  had  the  pleasure  of  con 
firming  the  discovery  of  Asellius  by  his  own  eyes 
— Gassendi,  Vita  Peirescii,  p.  177. 

J  Sprengel,  iv.,  203.  §  Id.,  270 


FROM  1GOO  TO  1650. 


263 


Rosicrucians,  pretended  to  cure  diseases 
by  faith  and  imagination.  A  true  Rosi- 
crucian,  they  held,  had  only  to  look  on  a 
patient  to  cure  him.  The  analogy  of 
magnetism,  revived  in  the  last  and  pres- 
ent age,  was  commonly  employed.*  Of 
this  school  the  most  eminent  was  Van 
Helmont,  who  combined  the  Paracelsian 
superstitions  with  some  original  ideas  of 
his  own.  His  general  idea  of  medicine 
was,  that  its  business  was  to  regulate  the 
archauis,  an  immaterial  principle  of  life 
and  health  ;  to  which,  like  Paracelsus,  he 
attributed  a  mysterious  being  and  efficacy. 
The  seat  of  the  archaous  is  in  the  stom- 
ach ;  and  it  is  to  be  effected  either  by  a 
scheme  of  diet  or  through  the  imagination. 
Sprengel  praises  Van  Helmont  for  over- 
throwing many  current  errors,  and  for  an- 
nouncing principles  since  pursued. f  The 
French  physicians  adhered  to  the  Hippo- 
cratic  school,  in  opposition  to  what  Spren- 
gel calls  the  Chemiatric,  which  more  or 
less  may  be  reckoned  that  of  Paracelsus. 
The  Italians  were  still  renowned  in  medi- 
cine. Sanctorius,  De  Medicina  Statica, 
1614,  seems  the  only  work  to  which  we 
need  allude.  It  is  loaded  with  eulogy  by 
Portal,  Tiraboschi,  and  other  writers. J 


SECTION  III. 

On  Oriental  Literature.  — Hebrew  Learning. — Ara- 
bic, anel  other  Eastern  Languages. 

23.  DURING  no  period  of  equal  length 
Diffusion  of  since  the  revival  of  letters  has 
Hebrew.  tne  knowledge  of  the  Hebrew 
language  been,  apparently,  so  much  diffu- 
sed among  the  literary  world  as  in  that 
before  us.  The  frequent  sprinkling  of  its 
characters  in  works  of  the  most  miscella- 
neous erudition  will  strike  the  eye  of  ev- 
ery one  who  habitually  consults  them. 
Nor  was  this  learning  by  any  means  so 
much  confined  to  the  clergy  as  it  has  been 
in  later  times,  though  their  order  naturally 
furnished  the  greater  portion  of  those  who 
laboured  in  that  field.  Some  of  the  chief 
Hebraists  of  this  age  were  laymen.  The 
study  of  this  language  prevailed  most  in 


*  All  in  nature,  says  Croll  of  Hesse,  one  of  the 
principal  theosophists  in  medicine,  is  living  ;  all 
that  lives  has  its  vital  force,  or  astrum,  which  can- 
not act  without  a  body,  hut  passes  from  one  to  an- 
other. All  things  in  (he  macrocosm  are  found  also 
in  the  microcosm.  The  inward  or  astral  man  is 
Gabalis,  from  which  the  science  is  named.  This 
Gabalis  or  imagination  is  as  a  magnet  to  external 
objects,  which  it  thus  attracts.  Medicines  act  by 
a  magnetic  force. —  Sprengel,  iii.,  362. 

t  Vol.  v.,  p.  22. 

j  Portal,  ii.,  391.  Tiraboschi,  xi.,  270.  Biogr. 
Univ. 


the  Protestant  countries  of  Europe,  and  it 
was  cultivated  with  much  zeal  in  Eng- 
land. The  period  between  the  last  years 
of  Elizabeth  and  the  Restoration  may  be 
reckoned  that  in  which  a  knowledge  of 
Hebrew  has  been  most  usual  among  our 
divines. 

24.  Upon  this  subject  I  can  only  assert 
what  I  collect  to  be  the  verdict  Language  not 
of  judicious  critics.*    It  seems  studied  fn  the 
that  the  Hebrew  language  was  bestmethod- 
not  yet  sufficiently  studied  in  the  method 
most  likely  to   give  an  insight  into  its 
principles,  by  comparing  it  with  all  the 
cognate  tongues,  latterly  called  Semitic, 
spoken  in  the  neighbouring  parts  of  Asia, 
and  manifestly  springing  from  a  common 
source.     Postel,  indeed,  had  made  some 
attempts  at  this  in  the  last  century,  but 
his  learning  was  very  slight ;  and  Schindler 
published,  in  1612,  a  Lexicon  Pentaglot- 
tum,  in  which  the  Arabic,  as  well  as  Syr- 
iac  and  Chaldaic,  were  placed  in  apposi- 
tion with  the   Hebrew  text.      Louis  de 
Dieu,  whose  "  Remarks  on  all  the  Books 
of  the  Old  Testament"  were  published  at 
Leyden  in  1648,  has  frequently  recourse 
to  some  of  the  kindred  languages  in  or- 
der to  explain  the  Hebrew.f    But  the  first 
instructors  in  the  latter  had  been  Jewish 
rabbis  ;  and  the  Hebraists  of  the  sixteenth 
age  had  imbibed  a  prejudice,  not  unnatu- 
ral, though  unfounded,  that  their  teachers 
were  best  conversant  with  the  language 
of  their  forefathers. |    They  had  derived 
from  the  same  source  an  extravagant  no- 
tion of  the  beauty,  antiquity,  and  capacity 
of  the  Hebrew  ;  and,  combining  this  with 
still  more  chimerical  dreams  of  a  mysti- 
cal philosophy,  lost  sight  of  all  real  prin- 
ciples of  criticism. 

25.  The  most  eminent  Hebrew  scholars 
of  this  age  were  the  two  Bux-  The  Buxtorf8 
torfs  of  Basle,  father  and  son, 

both   devoted   to   the   rabbinical   school. 


*  The  fifth  volume  of  Eichhorn's  Geschichte 
der  Cultur  is  devoted  to  the  progress  of  Oriental 
literature  in  Europe,  not  very  full  in  characterizing 
the  various  productions  it  mentions,  but  analytically 
arranged,  and  highly  useful  for  reference.  Jenisch, 
in  his  preface  to  Meninski's  Thesaurus  (Vienna, 
1780),  has  traced  a  sketch  of  the  same  subject. 
We  may  have  trusted  in  some  respects  to  Simon, 
Histoire  Critique  du  Vieux  Testament.  The  bio- 
graphical dictionaries,  English  and  French,  have  of 
course  been  resorted  to. 

t  Simon,  Hist.  Critique  du  Vieux  Testament,  p. 
494. 

t  This  was  not  the  case  with  Luther,  who  re- 
jected the  authority  of  the  rabbis,  and  thought  none 
but  Christians  could  understand  the  Old  Testament. 
—Simon,  p.  375.  But  Munster,  Fagius,  and  several 
others,  who  are  found  in  the  Critici  Sacri,  gave  way 
to  the  prejudice  in  favour  of  rabbinical  opinions, 
and  their  commentaries  are,  consequently,  too  Ju- 
daical.— P.  496. 


264 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


The  elder,  who  had  become  distinguished 
before  the  end  of  the  preceding  century, 
published  a  grammar  in  1609,  which  long 
continued  to  be  reckoned  the  best,  and  a 
lexicon  of  Hebrew,  Chaldee,  and  Syriac 
in  1623,  which  was  not  superseded  for 
more  than  a  hundred  years.  Many  other 
works  relating  to  these  three  dialects,  as 
•well  as  to  that  of  the  later  Jews,  do  hon- 
our to  the  erudition  of  the  elder  Buxtorf; 
but  he  is  considered  as  representing  a 
class  of  Hebraists  which,  in  the  more 
comprehensive  Orientalism  of  the  eigh- 
teenth century,  has  lost  much  of  its  credit. 
The  son  trod  closely  in  his  father's  foot- 
steps, whom  he  succeeded  as  professor 
of  Hebrew  at  Basle.  They  held  this  chair 
between  them  more  than  seventy  years. 
The  younger  Buxtorf  was  engaged  in  con- 
troversies which  had  not  begun  in  his  fa- 
ther's lifetime.  Morin,  one  of  those  learn- 
ed Protestants  who  had  gone  over  to  the 
Church  of  Rome,  systematically  laboured 
to  establish  the  authority  of  those  versions 
which  the  Church  had  approved,  by  weak 
ening  that  of  the  text  which  passed  for 
original.*  Hence  he  endeavoured  to  show, 
though  this  could  not  logically  do  much 
for  his  object,  that  the  Samaritan  Penta- 
teuch, lately  brought  to  Europe,  which  is 
not  in  a  different  language,  but  merely  the 
Hebrew  written  in  Samaritan  characters, 
is  deserving  of  preference  above  what  is 
called  the  Masoretic  text,  from  which  the 
Protestant  versions  are  taken.  The  vari- 
ations between  these  are  sufficiently  nu- 
merous to  affect  a  favourite  hypothesis, 
borrowed  from  the  rabbis,  but  strenuously 
maintained  by  the  generality  of  Protest- 
ants, that  the  Hebrew  text  of  the  Maso- 
retic recension  is  perfectly  incorrupt. f 
Morin's  opinion  was  opposed  by  Buxtorf 
and  Hottinger,  and  by  other  writers  even 
of  the  Romish  Church.  It  has,  however, 
been  countenanced  by  Simon  and  Kenni- 
cott.  The  integrity,  at  least,  of  the  He- 
brew copyist  was  gradually  given  up,  and 
it  has  since  been  shown  that  they  differ 
greatly  among  themselves.  The  Samari- 
tan Pentateuch  was  first  published  in 
1645,  several  years  after  this  controversy 
began,  by  Sionita,  editor  of  the  Parisian 
Polyglott.  This  edition,  sometimes  call- 
ed by  the  name  of  Le  Jay,  contains  most 
that  is  in  the  Polyglott  of  Antwerp,  with 
the  addition  of  the  Syriac  and  Arabic 
versions  of  the  Old  Testament. 

26.  An  epoch  was  made  in  Hebrew  crit- 
vowei  points  icism  by  a  work  of  Louis  Cap- 
rejected  by  pel,  professor  of  that  language 
Caflpei.  at  gaumur,  the  Arcanum  Punc- 


tuationis  Revelatum,  in  1624.  He  main- 
tained in  this  an  opinion  promulgated  by 
Elias  Levita,  and  held  by  the  first  reform- 
ers and  many  other  Protestants  of  the 
highest  authority,  though  contrary  to  that 
vulgar  orthodoxy  which  is  always  omniv- 
orous, that  the  vowel  points  of  Hebrew 
were  invented  by  certain  Jews  of  Tiberias 
in  the  sixth  century.  They  had  been  gen- 
erally deemed  coeval  with  the  language, 
or,  at  least,  brought  in  by  Esdras  through 
divine  inspiration.  It  is  not  surprising 
that  such  an  hypothesis  clashed  with  the 
prejudices  of  mankind,  and  Cappel  was 
obliged  to  publish  his  work  in  Holland. 
The  Protestants  looked  upon  it  as  too 
great  a  concession  in  favour  of  the  Vul- 
gate ;  which,  having  been  translated  be- 
fore the  Masoretic  punctuation,  on  Cap- 
pel's  hypothesis,  had  been  applied  to  the 
text,  might  now  claim  to  stand  on  higher 
ground,  and  was  not  to  be  judged  by  these 
innovations.  After  twenty  years,  the 
younger  Buxtorf  endeavoured  to  vindi- 
cate the  antiquity  of  vowel-points  ;  but  it 
is  now  confessed  that  the  victory  remain- 
ed with  Cappel,  who  has  been  styled  the 
father  of  Hebrew  criticism.  His  princi- 
pal work  is  the  Critica  Sacra,  published 
at  Paris  in  1650,  wherein  he  still  farther 
discredits  the  existing  manuscripts  of  the 
Hebrew  Scriptures,  as  well  as  the  Maso- 
retic punctuation.* 

27.  The  rabbinical  literature,  meaning 
as  well  the  Talmud  and  other  an-  Hebrew 
cient  books,  as  those  of  the  later  scholars,, 
ages  since  the  revival  of  intellectual  pur- 
suits among  the  Jews  of  Spain  and  the 
East,  gave  occupation  to  a  considerable 
class  of  scholars.  Several  of  these  be- 
long to  England,  as  Ainsworth,  Godwin, 
Lightfoot,  Selden,  and  Pococke.  The  an- 
tiquities of  Judaism  were  illustrated  by 
Cunaeus  in  Jus  Regium  Hebraeorum,  1623, 
and  especially  by  Selden,  both  in  the  Uxor 
Hebraica,  and  in  the  treatise  De  Jure  Nat- 
urali  et  Gentium  juxta  Hebraeos.  But  no 
one  has  left  a  more  durable  reputation  in 
this  literature  than  Bochavt,  a  Protestant 
minister  at  Caen.  His  Geographia  Sacra, 
published  in  1646,  is  not  the  most  famous 
of  his  works,  but  the  only  one  which  falls 
within  this  period.  It  displa)'s  great 
learning  and  sagacity ;  but  it  was  impos- 
sible, as  has  been  justly  observed,  that  he 
could  thoroughly  elucidate  this  subject  at 
a  time  when  we  knew  comparatively  little 


*  Simon,  p.  522.         f  Id.  ibid.    Eichhorn,  5,  464. 


*  Simon,  Eichhom,  &c.  A  detailed  account  of 
this  controversy  about  vowel-points  between  Cap- 
pel  and  the  Buxtorfs  will  be  found  in  the  12th  vol- 
ume of  the  Bibliotheqne  Universelle  ;  and  a  shorter 
precis  in  Eichhorn's  Einleitung  in  das  alte  Testa- 
ment, vol.  i.,  p.  242. 


FROM  1600  TO  1650. 


265 


of  modern  Asia,  and  had  few  good  books 
of  travels.  A  similar  observation  might 
of  course  be  applied  to  his  Hierozoicon, 
on  the  animals  mentioned  in  Scripture. 
Both  these  works,  however,  were  much 
extolled  in  the  seventeenth  century. 

28.  In  the  Chaldee  and  Syriac  langua- 
cimidee  and  ges,  which  approach  so  closely 
Syriac.         to  Hebrew  that  the  best  schol- 
ars in  the  latter  are  rarely  unacquainted 
with  them,  besides  the  Buxtorfs,  we  find 
Ferrari,  author  of  a  Syriac  lexicon,  pub- 
lished at  Rome  in  1622;  Louis  de  l)ieu 
of   Leyden,  whose  Syriac  grammar  ap- 
peared in  1626 ;  and  the  Syriac  transla- 
tion of  the  Old  Testament  in  the  Parisian 
Polyglott,  edited  by  Gabriel  Sionita,  in 
1642.     A  Syriac  college  for  the  Maronites 
of   Libanus    was    founded   at   Rome   by 
Gregory  XIII. ;  but  it  did  not  as  yet  pro- 
duce anything  of  importance. 

29.  But  a  language  incomparably  more 
Arabic    r*c^  m  literary  treasures,  and  long 

neglected  by  Europe,  now  began  to 
take  a  conspicuous  place  in  the  annals  of 
learning.  Scaliger  deserves  the  glory  of 
being  the  first  real  Arabic  scholar ;  for 
Postel,  Christman,  and  a  very  few  more 
of  the  sixteenth  century,  are  hardly  worth 
noticing.  His  friend  Casaubon,  who  ex- 
tols his  acquirements,  as  usual,  very  high- 
ly, devoted  himself  some  time  to  this  study. 
But  Scaliger  made  use  of  the  language 
chiefly  to  enlarge  his  own  vast  sphere  of 
erudition.  He  published  nothing  on  the 
subject ;  but  his  collections  became  the 
base  of  Rapheling's  Arabic  Lexicon ;  and 
it  is  said  that  they  were  far  more  exten- 
sive than  what  appears  in  that  work.  He 
who  properly  added  this  language  to  the 
Erpenius  domain  °f  learning  was  Erpenius. 
a  native  of  Corcum,  who  at  an 
early  age  had  gained  so  unrivalled  an  ac- 
quaintance with  the  Oriental  languages  as 
to  be  appointed  professor  of  them  at  Ley- 
den  in  1613.  He  edited,  the  same  year, 
the  above-mentioned  lexicon  of  Rapheling, 
and  published  a  grammar,  which  might  not 
only  be  accounted  the  first  composed  in 
Europe  that  deserved  the  name,  but  be- 
came the  guide  to  most  later  scholars. 
Erpenius  gave  several  other  works  to  the 
\vorld,  chiefly  connected  with  the  Arabic 
version  of  the  Scriptures.*  Golius, 
his  successor  in  the  Oriental  chair 
at  Leyden,  besides  publishing  a  lexicon  of 
the  language,  which  is  said  to  be  still  the 
most  copious,  elaborate,  and  complete  that 

*  Biogr.  Univ. 
VOL.  II.— L  L 


has  appeared,*  and  several  editions  of  Ar 
abic  writings,  poetical  and  historical,  con- 
tributed still  more  extensively  to  bring  the 
range  of  Arabian  literature  before  the 
world.  He  enriched  with  a  hundred  and 
fifty  manuscripts,  collected  in  his  travels, 
the  library  of  Leyden,  to  which  Scaliger 
had  bequeathed  forty. f  The  manuscripts 
belonging  to  Erpenius  found  their  way  to 
Cambridge ;  while,  partly  by  the  munifi- 
cence of  Laud,  partly  by  later  accessions, 
the  Bodleian  Library  at  Oxford  became 
extremely  rich  in  this  line.  The  much 
larger  collection  in  the  Escurial  seems  to 
have  been  chiefly  formed  under  Philip  III. 
England  was  now  as  conspicuous  in  Ara- 
bian as  in  Hebrew  learning.  Selden, 
Greaves,  and  Pococke,  especially  the  last, 
who  was  probably  equal  to  any  Oriental 
scholar  whom  Europe  had  hitherto  pro- 
duced, by  translations  of  the  historical 
and  philosophical  writings  of  the  Sara- 
cenic period,  gave  a  larger  coiiipass  to 
general  erudition.;): 

30.  The  remaining  languages  of  the 
East  are  of  less  importance,  ou^r  Eastern 
The  Turkish  had  attracted  languages. 
some  degree  of  attention  in  the  sixteenth 
century;  but  the  first  grammar  was  pub- 
lished by  Megiser  in  1612,  a  very  slight 
performance  ;  and  a  better  at  Paris,  by  Du 
Ryer,  in  1630. §  The  Persic  grammar  was 
given  at  Rome,  by  Raymondi,  in  1614  ;  by 
De  Dieu,  at  Leyden,  in  1639;  by  Greaves, 
at  London,  in  1641  and  1619. ||  An  Arme- 
nian dictionary,  by  Rivoli,  in  1621,  seems 
the  only  accession  to  our  knowledge  of 
that  ancient  language  during  this  period. ^f 
Athanasius  Kircher,  a  man  of  immense 
erudition,  restored  the  Coptic,  of  which 
Europe  had  been  wholly  ignorant.  Those 
farther  eastward  had  not  yet  begun  to  en- 
ter much  into  the  studies  of  Europe.  No- 
thing was  known  of  the  Indian  ;  but  some 
Chinese  manuscripts  had  been  brought  to 
Rome  and  IMBdrid  as  early  as  1580  ;  and, 
not  long  afterward,  two  Jesuits,  Roger  and 
Ricci,  both  missionaries  in  China,  were 
the  first  who  acquired  a  sufficient  knowl- 
edge of  the  language  to  translate  from 
it.**  But  scarcely  any  farther  advance 
took  place  before  the  middle  of  the  cen- 
tury. 


"  Jenisch,  prasfatio  in  Meninski  Thesaurus  Lin- 
gunrnm  Orientalium,  p.  110. 

t  Biogr.  Univ. 

j  Jenisch.  Eichhorn.  Biogr.  Universelle.  Biogr. 
Britannica. 

$   Eichhorn,  5,  3C7.  II  M..  320. 

1T  Id. ,351.  **  W-,64. 


266 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


SECTION  IV. 
On  Geography  and  History. 

31.  PCRCHAS,  an  English  clergyman,  im- 
Purchas's  bued  by  nature,  like  Hakluyt,  with 
Pilgrim,     a  strong  bias  towards  geographical 
studies,  after  having  formed  an  extensive 
library  in  that  department,  and  consulted, 
as  he  professes,  above  1200  authors,  pub- 
lished the  first  volume  of  his  Pilgrim,  a 
collection  of  voyages  in  all  parts  of  the 
world,  in  1613 ;  four  more  followed  in  1625. 
The  accuracy  of  this  useful  compiler  has 
been  denied  by  those  who  have  had  better 
means  of  knowledge,  and  probably  is  in- 
ferior to  that  of  Hakluyt ;  but  his  labour 
was  far  more  comprehensive.     The  Pil- 
grim was,  at  all  events,  a  great  source  of 
knowledge  to  the  contemporaries  of  Pur- 
chas.* 

32.  Olearius  was  ambassador  from  the 
oiearius      Duke   of  Holstein  to  Muscovy 
and  Pietro   and  Persia  from   1633  to  1639. 
deiia  vaiie.  His  travels,  in  German,  were  pub- 
lished in  1647,  and  have  been  several  times 
reprinted  and  translated.    He  has  well  de- 
scribed the  barbarism  of  Russia  and  the 
despotism  of  Persia ;  he  is  diffuse  and  epi- 
sodical, but  not  wearisome  ;  he  observes 
well  and  relates  faithfully :  all  who  have 
known  the  countries  he  has  visited  are  said 
to  speak  well  of  him.f    Pietro  della  Valle 
is  a  far  more  amusing  writer.     He  has 
thrown  his  travels  over  Syria  and  Persia 
into  the  form  of  letters  written  from  time 
to  time,  and  which  he  professes  to  have 
recovered  from  his  correspondents.    This, 
perhaps,  is  not  a  very  probable  story,  both 
on  account  of  the  length  of  the  letters,  and 
the  want  of  that  reference  to  the  present 
time  and  to  small  passing  events  which 
authentic  letters  commonly  exhibit.     His 
observations,  however,  on  all  the  countries 
he  visited,  especially  Persia,  are  apparent- 
ly such  as  consist  with  the  knowledge  we 
have  obtained  from  later  travellers.    Gib- 
bon says  that  none  have  better  observed 
Persia,  but  his  vanity  and  prolixity  are  in- 
sufferable.    Yet  I  think  that  Delia  Valle 
can  hardly  be  reckoned  tedious  ;  and  if  he 
is  a  little 'egotistical,  the  usual  and  almost 
laudable  characteristic  of  travellers,  this 
gives  a  liveliness  and  racy  air  to  his  nar- 
rative.    What  his  wife,  the  Lady  Maani, 
an  Assyrian  Christian,  whom  he  met  with 
at  Bagdad,   and  who    accompanied  him 
through  his  long  wanderings,  may  really 
have  been,  we  can  only  judge  from  his  eu- 
logies on  her  beauty,  her  fidelity,  and  her 
courage ;  but  she  throws  an  air  of  romance 


*  Biogr.  Univ.  Pinkerton's  collection  of  Voya- 
ges and  Travels.  The  latter  does  not  value  Pur- 
chas  highly  for  correctness.  f  Biogr.  Univ. 


over  his  adventures  not  unpleasing  to  the 
reader.  The  travels  of  Pietro  della  Valle 
took  place  from  1614  to  1626  ;  but  the 
book  was  first  published  at  Rome  in  1650, 
and  has  been  translated  into  different  Ian- 
guages. 

33.  The  Lexicon  Geographicum  of  Fer- 
rari, in  1627,  was  the  chief  gen-  Lexicon  of 
eral  work  on  geography ;  it  is  al-  Ferrari, 
phabetical,    and   contains    9600    articles. 
The  errors  have  been  corrected  in  later 
editions,  so  that  the  first  would  probably 
be  required  in  order  to  estimate  the  knowl 
edge  of  its  author's  age.* 

34.  The  best  measure,  perhaps,  of  geo- 
graphical science  are  the  maps  pub-  Maps  of 
lished  from  time  to  time,  as  perfect-  Biaew. 
ly,  for  the  most  part,  we  may  presume,  as 
their  editors  could  render  them.     If  we 
compare  the   map  of  the  world  in  the 
"  Theatrum  Orbis  Terrarum  sive  Novus 
Atlas"  of  Blaew,  in  1648,  with  that  of  the 
edition  of  Ortelius  published  at  Antwerp 
in  1612,  the  improvements  will  not  appear 
exceedingly  great.     America  is  still  sep- 
arated from  Asia  by  the  straits  of  Anian 
about  lat.  60 ;  but  the  coast  to  the  south 
is  made  to  trend  away  more  than  before  ; 
on  the  N.E.  coast  we  find  Davis's  Sea,  and 
Estotiland  has  vanished  to  gi\e  way  to 
Greenland.     Canada  is  still  most  inaccu- 
rate, though  there  is  a  general  idea  of 
lakes  and  rivers  better  than  in  Ortelius. 
Scandinavia  is  far  better,  and  tolerably 
correct.     In  the  South,  Terra  del  Fuego 
terminates  in  Cape  Horn  instead  of  being 
united  to  Terra  Australis  ;  but  in  the  East, 
Corea  appears  as  an  oblong  island  ;  the 
Sea  of  Aral  is  not  set  down,  and  the  wall 
of  China  is  placed  north  of  the  fiftieth  par- 
allel.    India  is  very  much  too  small,  and 
the  shape  of  the  Caspian  Sea  is  wholly  in- 
accurate.    But  a  comparison  with  the  map 
in  Hakluyt,  mentioned  in  our  first  vol- 
ume, will  not  exhibit  so  much  superiority 
of  Blaew's  Atlas.     The  latter,  however, 
shows  more  knowledge  of  the  interior 
country,  especially  in  North  America,  and 
a  better  outline,  in  many  parts,  of  the 
Asiatic  coast.     The  maps  of  particular  re- 
gions in  Europe  are  on  a  large  scale,  and 
numerous.     Speed's  maps,   1646,  appear 
by  no  means  inferior  to  those  of  Blaew  ; 
but  several  of  the  errors  are  the  same. 
Considering  the  progress   of  commerce, 
especially  that  of  the  Dutch,  during  this 
half  century,  we  may  rather  be  surprised 
at  the  defective  state  of  these  maps. 

35.  Two  histories  of  general  reputation 
were  published  in  the  Italian  Ian-  Daviia  and 
guage  during  these  fifty  years ;  Bentivogiio 


*  Salfi,  xi.,  418.    Biogr.  Universelle. 


FROM  1(500  TO  1650. 


267 


one  of  the  civil  wars  in  France  by  Davila, 
in  1630,  and  another  of  those  in  Flanders, 
by  Cardinal  Bentivoglio.  Both  of  these 
had  the  advantage  of  interesting  subjects  ; 
they  had  been  sufficiently  conversant,  with 
the  actors  to  know  much  and  to  judge 
well,  without  that,  particular  responsibility 
which  tempts  an  historian  to  prevarica- 
tion. They  were  both  men  of  cool  and 
sedate  tempers,  accustomed  to  think  poli- 
cy a  game  in  which  the  strong  play  with 
the  weak,  obtuse,  especially  the  former, 
in  moral  sentiment,  but  on  this  account 
not  inclined  to  calumniate  an  opposite  par- 
ty, or  to  withhold  admiration  from  intel- 
lectual power.  Both  these  histories  may 
be  read  over  and  over  with  pleasure  ;  if 
Davila  is  too  refined,  if  he  is  not  altogeth- 
er faithful,  if  his  style  wants  the  elegance 
of  some  older  Italians,  he  more  than  re- 
deems all  this  by  the  importance  of  his 
subject,  the  variety  and  picturesqueness  of 
his  narration,  and  the  acuteness  of  his  re- 
flections. Bentivoglio  is  reckoned,  as  a 
writer,  among  the  very  first  of  his  age. 

36.  The  History  of  the  War  of  Grana- 
Mendozs-s  ^a>  ^iat  *S)  tne  rebellion  of*  the 
Wars  of  Moriscos  in  1565,  by  the  famous 
Granada.  Diego  de  Mendoza,  was  published 
posthumously  in  1610.  It  is  placed  by  the 
Spaniards  themselves  on  a  level  with  the 
most  renowned  of  the  ancients.  The 
French  have  now  their  first  gen- 
y'  eral  historian,  Mezeray,  a  writer 
esteemed  for  his  lively  style  and  bold 
sense,  but  little  read,  of  course,  in  an  age 
like  the  last  or  our  own,  which  have  de- 
manded an  exactness  in  matter  of  fact  and 
an  extent  of  historical  erudition  which  was 
English  formerly  unknown.  Wenowbe- 
histori.m.s.  g;in,  in  England,  to  cultivate  his- 
torical composition,  and  with  so  much 
success,  that  the  present  period  was  far 
more  productive  of  such  works  as  deserve 
remembrance  than  a  whole  century  that 
next  followed.  But  the  most  considerable 
of  these  have  already  been  mentioned. 
English  Lord  Herbert  of  Oherbury's  His- 
histori  •*.  tory  of  Henry  VIII.  ought  here  to 
be  added  to  the  list,  as  a  book  of  good  au- 
thority, relatively  at  least  to  any  that  pre- 
ceded, and  written  in  a  manly  and  judicious 
spirit.  Camden's  Life  of  Elizabeth  is  also 
a  solid  and  valuable  history.  Bacon's 
Life  of  Henry  VII.  is  something  more  ;  it 
is  the  first  instance  in  our  language  of  the 
application  of  philosophy  to  reasoning  on 
public  events  in  the  manner  of  the  ancients 
and  the  Italians.  Praise  upon  Henry  is 
too  largely  bestowed ;  but  it  was  in  the 
nature  of  Bacon  to  admire  too  much  a 
crafty  and  selfish  policy ;  and  he  thought 
also,  no  doubt,  that  so  near  an  ancestor  of 


his  own  sovereign  should  not  be  treated 
with  severe  impartiality. 


SECTION  V. 
On  General  State  of  Literatuio. 

37.  OF  the  Italian  and  other  Continental 
universities,  we  have  little  to  say 
beyond  what  may  be  collected  Ulliversitie8 
from  the  general  tenour  of  this  literary  his- 
tory, that  they  contributed  little  to  those 
departments  of  knowledge  to  which  we 
have   paid   most  attention,  and,  adhering 
pertinaciously  to   their   ancient   studies, 
were  left  behind  in  the  advance  of  the  hu- 
man mind.     They  were,  indeed,  not  less 
crowded  with  scholars  than  before,  being 
the  necessary  and  prescribed  road  to  lu- 
crative professions.    In  theology,  law,  and 
medicine,  sciences,   the   two   former  of 
which,  at  least,  did  not  claim  to  be  pro- 
gressive, they  might  sustain  a  respectable 
posture  ;  in  philosophy,  and  even  in  polite 
letters,  they  were  less  prominent. 

38.  The  English  universities  are,  in  one 
point  of  view,  very  different  from  Bodleian 
those  of  the  rest  of  Europe.  Their  library 
great  endowments  created  a  resi-  founde(J- 
dent  class,  neither  teachers  nor  students, 
who  might  devote  an  unbroken  leisure  to 
learning  with  the  advantage  of  that  com 
mand  of  books  which  no  other  cpurse  of 
life  could  have  afforded.    It  is  true  that  in 
no  age  has  the  number  of  these  been  great ; 
but  the  diligence  of  a  few  is  enough  to 
cast  a  veil   over  the  laziness  of  many. 
The  century  began  with  an  extraordinary 
piece  of  fortune  to  the  University  of  Ox- 
ford, which  formed  in   the    seventeenth 
century,  whatever  it  may  since  have  been, 
one  great  cause  of  her  literary  distinc- 
tion.    Sir  Thomas  Bodley,  with  a  munifi- 
cence which  has  rendered  his  name  more 
immortal  than  the  foundation  of  a  family 
could  have  done,  bestowed  on  the  Univer- 
sity a  library  collected  by  him  at  great 
cost,  building  a  magnificent  room  for  its 
reception,  and  bequeathed  large  funds  for 
its  increase.   The  building  was  completed 
in  1606  ;  and  Casaubon  has,  very  shortly 
afterward,  given  such  an  account,  of  the 
University  itself,  as  well  as  of  the  Bodleian 
library,  as  will,  perhaps,  be  interesting  to 
the  reader,  though  it  contains  some  of 
those  mistakes  into  which  a  stranger  is 
apt  to  fall. 

39.  "  I  wrote  you  word,"  he  says,  in 
July,  1613,  to  one  of  his  corre-  casaubon't 
spondents,  "  a  month  since,  that  I  account  of 
was  going  to  Oxford,  in  order  to  Oxf°rd- 
visit  that  University  and  its  library,  of 


268 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


which  I  had  heard  much.      Everything 
proved  beyond  my  expectation.    The  col- 
leges are  numerous ;  most  of  them  very 
rich.     The   revenues  of  these   colleges 
maintain  above   two   thousand   students, 
generally  of  respectable  parentage,  and 
some  even  of  the  first  nobility ;  for  what 
we  call  the  habits  of  pedagogues  (pseda- 
gogica  vitse  ratio)  is  not  found  in  these 
English  colleges.     Learning  is  here  culti- 
vated  in  a  liberal  style ;   the  heads   of 
houses  live  handsomely,  even  splendidly, 
like  men  of  rank.   Some  of  them  can  spend 
ten  thousand  livres  [about  £1000  at  that 
time,  if  I  mistake  not]  by  the  year.   I  much 
approved  the   mode  in  which  pecuniary 
concerns  are  kept  distinct  from  the  busi- 
ness of  learning.*     Many  still  are  found, 
who  emulate  the  liberality  of  their  prede- 
cessors.    Hence  new  buildings  vrise  every 
day ;  even  some  new  colleges  are  raised 
from  the  foundation :  some  are  enlarged, 
such  as  that  of  Merton,  over  which  Savile 
presides,  and  several  more.    There  is  one 
begun  by  Cardinal  Wolsey,  which,  if  it 
should  be  completed,  will  be  worthy  of  the 
greatest  admiration.     But  he  left  at  his 
death  many  buildings,  which  he  had  begun, 
in  an  unfinished  state,  which  no  one  ex- 
pects to  see  complete.     None  of  the  col- 
leges, however,  attracted  me  so  much  as 
the  Bodleian  library,  a  work  rather  for  a 
king  than  a  private  man.    It  is  certain  that 
Bodley,  living  or  dead,  must  have  expend- 
ed 200,000  livres  on  that  building.     The 
ground-plot  is  the  figure  of  the  letter  T. 
The  part  which  represents  the  perpendicu- 
lar  stem   was   formerly    built   by   some 
prince,  and  is  very  handsome ;  the  rest 
was  added  by  Bodley  with  no  less  mag- 
nificence.    In  the  lower  part  is  a  divinity 
school,  to  which  perhaps  nothing  in  Eu- 
rope is  comparable.     It  is  vaulted  with 
peculiar  skill.     The  upper  story  is  the  li- 
brary itself,  very  well  built,  and  fitted  with 
an  immense  quantity  of  books.     Do  not 
imagine  that  such  plenty  of  manuscripts 
can  be  found  here  as  in  the  royal  library 
(of  Paris) ;  there  are  not  a  few  manu- 
scripts in  England,  but  nothing  to  what 
the  king  possesses.     But  the  number  of 
printed  books  is  wonderful,  and  increasing 
every  year ;  for  Bodley  has  bequeathed  a 
considerable   revenue  for   that   purpose. 
As  long  as  I  remained  at  Oxford,  I  passed 
whole  days  in  the  library ;  for  books  can- 
not be  taken  out,  but  the  library  is  open 
to  all  scholars  for  seven  or  eight  hours 
every  day.   You  might  always  see,  there- 
fore, many  of  these  greedily  enjoying  the 


*  Res  studiosorurn  et  rationes  separatas  sunt, 
quod  vnlde  probavi.  I  have  given  the  translation 
which  seemed  best ;  but  I  may  be  mistaken. 


banquet  prepared  for  them,  which  gave  me 
no  small  pleasure."* 

40.  The  Earl  of  Pembroke,  Selden,  and, 
above  all,  Archbishop  Laud,  greatly  inj- 
proved  the  Bodleian  library.     It  became, 
especially  through  the  munificence  of  that 
prelate,  extremely  rich  in  Oriental  manu- 
scripts.    The  Duke  of  Buckingham  pre- 
sented a  collection  made  by  Erpenius  to 
the  public  library  at  Cambridge,  which, 
though  far  behind  that  of  the  sister  uni- 
versity, was  enriched  by  many  donations, 
and   became  very  considerable.      Usher 
formed   the   library   of  Trinity   College, 
Dublin  ;  a  university  founded  on  the  Eng- 
lish model,  with  noble  revenues,  and  a 
corporate  body  of  fellows  and  scholars  to 
enjoy  them. 

41.  A  catalogue  of  the  Bodleian  library 
was  published  by  James  in  1620.  rata!ogue 
It  contains  about  20,000  articles,  of  Bodfeian 
Of  these,  no  great  number  are  in  m'rary- 
English,  and  such  as  there   are   chiefly 
since  the  year  1600  ;  Bodley,  perhaps,  had 
been  rather  negligent  of  poetry  and  plays. 
The  editor  observes  that  there  were  in 
the  library  three  or  four  thousand  volumes 
in  modern  languages.     This  catalog'ue  is 
not  classed,  but  alphabetical ;  which  James 
mentions  as  something  new,  remarking,  at 
the  same  time,  the  difficulty  of  classifica- 
tion, and  that  in  the  German  catalogues 
we  find  grammars  entered  under  the  head 
of  philosophy.     One  published  by  Draud, 
Bibliotheca  Classica,  sive  Catalogus  Offi- 
cinalis,  Frankfort,  1625,  is  hardly  worth 
mention.    It  professes  to  be  a  general  list 
of  printed  books;  but,  as  the  number  seems 
to  be  not  more  than  30,000,  all  in  Latin,  it 
must  be  very  defective.     About  two  fifths 
of  the  whole  are  theological.    A  catalogue 
of  the  library  of  Sion  College,  founded  in 
1631,  was  printed  in  1650  ;  it  contains  eight 
or  nine  thousand  volumes. f 

42.  The  library  of  Leyden  had  been 
founded  by  the  first  Prince  of  continental 
Orange.      Scaliger    bequeathed  libraries. 
his  own  to  it ;  and  it  obtained  the  Oriental 
manuscripts  of  Golius.     A  catalogue  had 
been  printed  by  Peter  Bertius  as  early  as 
1597. 1    Many  public  and  private  libraries 
either  now  began  to  be  formed  in  France, 
or  received  great  accessions  ;  among  the 
latter,  those  of  the  historian  De  Thou,  and 
the  president  Seguier.fy     No  German  li- 
brary, after  that  of  Vienna,  had  been  so 
considerable  as  one  formed  in  the  course 
of  several  ages  by  the  Electors  Palatine 
at  Heidelberg.     It  contained  many  rare 
manuscripts.     On  the  capture  of  the  city 
by  Tilly  in  1622,  he  sent  a  number  of  these 


*  Casaub.,  Epist.  899.      t  In  Museo  Britannico. 
t  Jugler,  Hist.  Lilteraria,  c.  3.        §  Id.  ibid 


FROM  1606  TO  1650. 


269 


lo  Rome,  and  they  long  continued  to  sleep 
in  the  recesses  of  the  Vatican.  Napoleon, 
emulous  of  such  a  precedent,  obtained 
thirty-eight  of  the  Heidelberg  manuscripts 
by  the  treaty  of  Tolentino,  which  were 
transmitted  to  Paris.  On  the  restitution 
of  these  in  1815,  it  was  justly  thought  that 
prescription  was  not  to  be  pleaded  by 
Rome  for  the  rest  of  the  plunder,  especially 
when  she  was  recovering  what  she  had 
lost  by  the  same  right  of  spoliation  ;  and 
the  whole  collection  has  been  replaced  in 
the  library  of  Heidelberg. 

43.  The  Italian  academies  have  been 
Italian  often  represented  as  partaking  in 
academies,  the  alleged  decline  of  literary 
spirit  during  the  first  part  of  the  seven- 
teenth century.  Nor  is  this  reproach*  a 
new  one.  Boccalini,  after  the  commence- 
ment of  this  period,  tells  us  that  these  in- 
stitutions, once  so  famous,  had  fallen  into 
decay,  their  ardent  zeal  in  literary  exer- 
cises and  discussions  having  abated  by 
time,  so  that  while  they  had  once  been 
frequented  by  private  men,  and  esteemed 
by  princes,  they  were  now  abandoned  and 
despised  by  all.  They  petition  Apollo, 
therefore,  in  a  chapter  of  his  Ragguagli  di 
Parnasso,  for  a  reform.  But  the  god  re- 
plies that  all  things  have  their  old  age  and 
decay,  and  as  nothing  can  prevent  the 
neatest  pair  of  slippers  from  wearing  out, 
so  nothing  can  rescue  academies  from  a 
similar  lot ;  hence  he  can  only  advise  them 
to  suppress  the  worst,  and  to  supply  their 
places  by  others.*  If  only  such  a  counsel 
were  required,  the  institution  of  academies 
in  general  would  not.  perish.  And,  in  fact, 
we  really  find  that,  while  some  societies  of  j 
this  class  came  to  nothing,  as  is  always  the 
case  with  self-constituted  bodies,  the  sev- 
enteenth century  had  births  of  its  own  to 
boast,  not  inferior  to  the  older  progeny  of 
the  last  age.  The  Academy  of  Humorists 
at  Rome  was  one  of  these.  It  arose 
casually  at  the  marriage  of  a  young  noble- 
man of  the  Mancini  family,  and  took  the 
same  line  as  many  had  done,  reciting 
verses  and  discourses,  or  occasionally  rep- 
resenting plays.  The  tragedy  of  Deme- 
trius, by  Rocco,  one  of  this  academy,  is 
reckoned  among  the  best  of  the  age.  The 
Apatisti  of  Florence  took  their  name  from 
Fioretti,  who  had  assumed  the  appellation 
of  Udeno  Nisielo,  Academico  Apatista. 
The  Rozzi  of  Siena,  whom  the  government 
had  suppressed  in  1568,  revived  again  in 
1605,  and  rivalled  another  society  of  the 
same  city,  the  Intronati.  The  former  es- 
pecially dedicated  their  time  to  pastoral, 
in  the  rustic  dialect  (comedia  rusticale),  a 

*  Ragg.,  xviii.,  c.  1. 


species  of  dramatic  writing  that  might 
amuse  at  the  moment,  and  was  designed 
for  no  other  end,  though  several  of  these 
farces  are  extant.* 

44.  The  Academy  della  Crusca,  which 
had  more  solid  objects  for  the  The 
advantages  of  letters  in  view, 

has  been  mentioned  in  another  place.  But 
that  of  the  Lincei,  founded  by  Frederic 
Cesi,  stands  upon  a  higher  ground  than 
any  of  the  rest.  This  young  man  was 
born  at  Rome  in  1585,  son  of  the  duke  of 
Acqua  Sparta,  a  father  and  a  family  known 
only  for  their  pride  and  ignorance.  But 
nature  had  created  in  Cesi  a  philosophic 
mind;  in  conjunction  w,ith  a  few  of  similar 
dispositions,  he  gave  his  entire  regard  to 
science,  and  projected  himself,  at  the  age 
of  eighteen,  an  academy,  that  is,  a  private 
association  of  friends  for  intellectual  pur- 
suits, which,  with  reference  to  their  desire 
of  piercing  with  acute  discernment  into 
the  depths  of  truth,  he  denominated  the 
Lynxes.  Their  device  was  that  animal, 
with  its  eyes  turned  towards  heaven,  and 
tearing  a  Cerberus  with  its  claws ;  thus 
intimating  that  they  were  prepared  for 
war  against  error  and  falsehood.  The 
Church,  always  suspicious,  and  inclined 
to  make  common  cause  with  all  establish- 
ed tenets,  gave  them  some  trouble,  though 
neither  theology  nor  politics  entered  into 
their  scheme.  This  embraced,  as  in  their 
academies,  poetry  and  elegant  literature ; 
but  physical  science  was  their  peculiar 
object.  Porta,  Galileo,  Colonna,  and  many 
other  distinguished  men,  both  of  Italy  and 
the  Transalpine  countries,  were  enrolled 
among  the  Lynxes  ;  and  Cesi  is  said  to 
have  framed  rather  a  visionary  plan  of  a 
general  combination  of  philosophers,  in 
the  manner  of  the  Pythagoreans,  which 
should  extend  itself  to  every  part  of  Eu- 
rope. The  constitutions  of  this  imaginary 
order  were  even  published  in  16-24  ;  they 
are  sucli  as  could  not  have  been  realized, 
but,  from  the  organization  and  secrecy 
that  seem  to  have  been  their  elements, 
might  not  improbably  have  drawn  down  a 
persecution  upon  themselves,  or  even  ren- 
dered the  name  of  philosophy  obnoxious. 
Cesi  died  in  1630,  and  his  academy  ol 
Lynxes  did  not  long  survive  the  loss  ol 
their  chief.f 

45.  The  tide  of  public  opinion  had  hith- 
erto set  regularly  in  one  diroc-  prejudice  foi 
tion  ;    ancient    times,    ancient  antiquity  di- 
learning,   ancient  wisdom   and  m 
virtue,  were    regarded    with    unqualified 
veneration  ;    the  very  course  of  nature 


*  Salfi,  vol.  xii. 

t  Id.,  xi.,  102.    Tiraboschi,  xi.,  42,  243. 


270 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


was  hardly  believed  to  be  the  same,  and  a 
common  degeneracy  was  thought  to  have 
overspread  the  earth  and  its  inhabitants. 
This  had  been  at  its  height  in  the  first 
century  after  the  revival  of  letters,  the 
prejudice  in  favour  of  the  past,  always 
current  with  the  old,  who  affect  to  dictate 
the  maxims  of  experience,  conspiring  with 
the  genuine  lustre  of  classical  literature 
and  ancient  history,  which  dazzled  the 
youthful  scholar.  But  this  aristocracy  of 
learning  was  now  assailed  by  a  new  pow- 
er, which  had  risen  up  in  sufficient  strength 
to  dispute  the  pre-eminence.  We,  said 
Bacon,  are  the  true  ancients ;  what  we 
call  the  antiquity  of  the  world  was  but^ts 
infancy.  This  thought,  equally  just  and 
brilliant,  was  caught  up  and  echoed  by 
many  ;  it  will  be  repeatedly  found  in  later 
works.  It  became  a  question  whether 
the  moderns  had  not  really  left  behind 
their  progenitors  ;  and,  though  it  has  been 
hinted  that  a  dwarf  on  a  giant's  shoulders 
sees  farther  than  the  giant,  this  is,  in  one 
sense,  to  concede  the  point  in  dispute.* 

46.  Tassoni  was  one  of  the  first  who 
combated  the  established  prejudice  by 
maintaining  that  modern  times  are  not 
inferior  to  ancient ;  it  well  became  his 
Intrepid  disposition.!  But  Lancilotti,  an 
Italian  ecclesiastic,  and  member  of  sev- 
eral academies,  pursued  this  subject  in  an 
elaborate  work,  intended  to  prove,  first, 
that  the  world  was  neither  morally  worse 
nor  more  afflicted  by  calamities  than  it 
had  been  ;  secondly,  that  the  intellectual 
abilities  of  mankind  had  not  degenerated. 
It  bears  the  general  title  L'Hoggidi,  To- 
Day  ;  and  is,  throughout,  a  ridicule  of  those 
whom  he  calls  Hoggidiani,  perpetual  de- 
claimers  against  the  present  state  of 
things.  He  is  a  very  copious  and  learned 
writer,  and  no  friend  to  antiquity ;  each 
chapter  being  entitled  Disinganno,  and 
intended  to  remove  some  false  prejudice. 
The  first  part  of  this  work  appeared  in 
1623,  the  second  after  the  author's  death, 
not  till  1658.  Lancilotti  wrote  another 
book  with  somewhat  a  similar  object,  en- 
titled Farfalloni  degF  Antichi  Istorici,  and 
designed  to  turn  the  ancient  historians 
into  ridicule ;  with  a  good  deal  of  pleas- 
antry, but  chiefly  on  account  of  stories 
which  no  one  in  his  time  would  have  be- 
lieved. The  same  ground  was  taken 

*  Ac  quemadmodum  pygmaeus  humeris  gigantis 
insidens  longius  quarn  gigas  prospicere,  neque  ta- 
men  se  gigante  majorem  habere  aut  sibi  mullum 
tribuere  potest.ita  nos  veterum  laboribus  vigilijsque 
in  nostros  usus  conversis  adjicere  aliquid,  non  su- 
percilia  tollere,  aut  parvi  facere,  qui  ante  nos  fue- 
runt,  debemus.— Cyprianus,  Vita  Campanellae,  p.  15. 

t  Salfi,  xi.,  381. 


soon  afterward  by  an  English  divine, 
George  Hake  will,  in  his  "  Apology,  or 
Declaration  of  the  Power  and  Providence 
of  God  in  the  Government  of  the  World," 
published  in  1627.  This  is  designed  to 
prove  that  there  is  not  that  perpetual  and 
universal  decay  in  nature  which  many 
suppose.  It  is  an  elaborate  refutation  of 
many  absurd  notions  which  seem  to  have 
prevailed  ;  some  believing  that  even  phys- 
ical nature,  the  sun  and  stars,  the  earth 
and  waters,  were  the  worse  for  wear.  A 
greater  number  thought  this  true  of  man  ; 
his  age,  his  size,  his  strength,  his  powers 
of  mind  were  all  supposed  to  have  been 
deteriorated.  Hakewill  patiently  and 
learnedly  refuted  all  this.  The  moral 
character  of  antiquity  he  shows  to  be 
much  exaggerated,  animadverting  espe- 
cially on  the  Romans.  The  most  re- 
markable, and  certainly  the  most  disputa- 
ble chapters,  are  those  which  relate  to  the 
literary  merits  of  ancient  and  modern 
times.  He  seems  to  be  one  of  the  first 
who  ventured  to  put  in  a  claim  for  the 
latter.  In  this  he  anticipates  Wotton, 
who  had  more  to  say.  Hakewill  goes 
much  too  far  in  calling  Sidney's  Arcadia 
"  nothing  inferior  to  the  choicest  piece 
among  the  ancients ;"  and  even  thinks 
"  he  should  not  much  wrong  Virgil  by 
matching  him  with  Du  Bartas."  The 
learning  shown  in  this  treatise  is  very 
extensive,  but  Hakewiil  has  no  taste,  and 
cannot  perceive  any  real  superiority  in 
the  ancients.  Compared  with  Lancilotti, 
he  is  much  inferior  in  liveliness,  perhaps 
even  in  learning ;  but  I  have  not  ob- 
served that  he  has  borrowed  anything 
from  the  Italian,  whose  publication  was 
but  four  years  earlier. 

47.  Browne's  Inquiry  into  Vulgar  Er- 
rors displays  a  great  deal  of  erudi-  Browne's 
tion,  but  scarcely  raises  a  high  no-  vulgar 
tion  of  Browne  himself  as  a  phi-  Errors- 
losopher,  or  of  the  state  of  physical 
knowledge  in  England.  The  errors  he 
indicates  are  such  as  none  but  illiterate 
persons,  we  should  think,  were  likely  to 
hold ;  and  I  believe  that  few  on  the  Con- 
tinent, so  late  as  1646,  would  have  re- 
quired to  have  them  exploded  with  such 
an  ostentation  of  proof.  Who  did  not 
know  that  the  phoenix  is  a  fable  1 
Browne  was  where  the  learned  in  Eu- 
rope had  been  seventy  years  before,  and 
seems  to  have  been  one  of  those  who 
saturate  their  minds  with  bad  books  till 
they  have  little  room  for  anything  new 
that  is  better.  A  man  of  so  much  cre- 
dulity and  such  an  irregular  imagination 
as  Browne  was  almost  sure  to  believe  in 
witchcraft  and  all  sorts  of  spiritual  agen- 


FROM  1600  TO  1650. 


271 


cies.  In  no  respect  did  he  go  in  advance 
of  his  age,  unless  we  make  an  exception 
for  his  declaration  against  persecution. 
He  seems  to  have  been  fond  of  those  tri- 
fling questions  which  the  bad  taste  of  the 
schoolmen  and  their  contemporaries  in- 
troduced ;  as  whether  a  man  has  fewer 
ribs  than  a  woman ;  whether  Adam  and 
Eve  had  navels  ;  whether  Methusaleh  was 
the  oldest  man  ;  the  problems  of  children 
put  to  adults.  With  a  strong  curiosity 
and  a  real  love  of  truth,  Browne  is  a 
striking  instance  of  a  merely  empirical 
mind ;  he  is  at  sea  with  sails  and  a  rud- 
der, but  withoui  a  compass  or  logbook ; 
and  has  so  little  notion  of  any  laws  of 
nature,  or  of  any  inductive  reasoning  ei- 
ther as  to  efficient  or  final  causes,  that  he 
never  seems  to  judge  anything  to  be  true 
or  false  except  by  experiment. 

48.  In  concluding  our  review  of  the  six- 
Life  and      teenth  century,  we  selected  Pi- 
character    nelli,  as  a  single   model  of   the 

Peiresc.  ]jterary  character,  which,  loving 
and  encouraging  knowledge,  is  yet  too 
little  distinguished  by  any  writings  to  fall 
naturally  within  the  general  subject  of 
these  volumes.  The  period  which  wo 
now  bring  to  a  close  will  furnish  us  with 
a  much  more  considerable  instance.  Nic- 
olas Peiresc  was  born  in  1580,  of  an  an- 
cient family  in  Provence,  which  had  for 
some  generations  held  judicial  offices  in 
the  Parliament  of  Aix.  An  extraordinary 
thirst  for  every  kind  of  knowledge  char- 
acterized Peiresc  from  his  early  youth ; 
and,  being  of  a  weak  constitution,  as  well 
as  ample  fortune,  though  he  retained,  like 
his  family,  an  honourable  post  in  the  par- 
liament, his  time  was  principally  devoted 
to  the  multifarious  pursuits  of  an  enlight- 
ened scholar.  Like  Pinelli,  he  delighted 
in  the  rarities  of  art  and  antiquity ;  but 
his  own  superior  genius,  and  the  vocation 
of  that  age  towards  science,  led  him  on  to 
a  far  more  extensive  field  of  inquiry.  We 
have  the  life  of  Peiresc,  written  by  his 
countryman  and  intimate  friend  Gassen- 
di ;  and  no  one  who  has  any  sympathy 
with  science  or  with  a  noble  character 
will  read  it  without  pleasure.  Few  books, 
indeed,  of  that  period  are  more  full  of 
casual  information. 

49.  Peiresc  travelled  much  in  the  early 
part  of  his  life  :  he  was1  at  Rome  in  1600, 
and  came  to  England  and  Holland  in  1600. 
The  hard  drinking,  even  of  our  learned 
men,*  disconcerted  his  southern  stomach ; 
but  he  was  repaid  by  the  society  of  Cam- 
den,  Savile,  and  Cotton.     The  king  re- 
ceived Peiresc  courteously,  and  he  was 


present  at  the  opening  of  Parliament.  On 
returning  to  his  native  province,  he  began 
to  form  his  extensive  collections  of  mar- 
bles and  medals,  but  especially  of  natural 
history  in  every  line.  He  was,  perhaps, 
the  first  who  observed  the  structure  of 
zoophytes,  though  he  seems  not  to  have 
suspected  their  animal  nature.  Petrifac- 
tions occupied  much  of  his  time  ;  and  he 
framed  a  theory  of  them  which  Gassendi 
explains  at  length,  but  which,  as  might  be 
expected,  is  not  the  truth.*  Botany  was  * 
among  his  favourite  studies,  and  Europe 
owes  to  him,  according  to  Gassendi,  the 
Indian  jessamine,  the  gourd  of  Mecca,  the 
real  Egyptian  papyrus,  which  is  not  that 
described  by  Prosper  Alpinus.  He  first 
planted  ginger,  as  well  as  many  other 
Oriental  plants,  in  a  European  garden, 
and  also  the  cocoanut,  from  which,  how- 
ever, he  could  not  obtain  fruit. 

50.  Peiresc  was  not  less  devoted  to 
astronomy :   he  had  no  sooner  heard  of 
the  discoveries  of  Galileo  than  he   set 
himself  to  procure  a  telescope,  and  had, 
in  the  course  of  the  same  year,  1610,  the 
pleasure  of  observing  the  moons  of  Jupi- 
ter.    It  even  occurred  to  him  that  these 
might  serve  to  ascertain  the  longitude, 
though  he  did  not  follow  up  the  idea. 
Galileo,  indeed,  with  a  still  more  invent- 
ive mind,  and  with  more  of  mathematics, 
seems  to  have  stood  in  the  way  of  Pei- 
resc.    He  took,  as  far  as  appears,  no  great 
pains  to  publish  his  researches,  content- 
ing himself  with  the  intercourse  of  litera- 
ry men  who  passed   near  him,  or  with 
whom  he  could  maintain  correspondence. 
Several  discoveries  are  ascribed  to  him 
by  Gassendi ;  of  their  originality  I  cannot 
venture  to  decide.     "  From  his  retreat," 
says  another  biographer,  "  Peiresc  gave 
more  encouragement  to  letters  than  any 
prince ;  more  even  than  the  Cardinal  de 
Richelieu,  who  some  time  afterward  found 
ed  the  French  Academy.    Worthy  to  have 
been  called  by  Bayle  the  attorney -general 
of  literature,  he  kept  always  on  the  level 
of  progressive  science,  published  manu- 
scripts at  his  own  expense,  followed  the 
labours  of  the  learned  throughout  Europe, 
and  gave  them  an  active  impulse  by  his 
own  aid."     Scaliger,  Salmasius,  Holste- 
nius,  Kircher,  Mersenne,  Grotius,  Valois, 
are  but  some  of  the  great  names  of  Eu- 
rope whom  he  assisted  by  various  kinds 
of  liberality.f    He  published  nothing  him- 
self, but  some  of  his  letters  have  been 
collected. 

51.  The  character  of  Peiresc  was  amia- 
ble and  unreserved  among  his  friends ;  bui 


Gassendi,  Vita  Peiresc,  p.  51. 


*  P.  147. 


t  Biogr.  Universelle. 


272 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


he  was  too  much  absorbed  in  the  love  of  j 
knowledge  for  insipid  conversation.  For , 
the  same  reason,  his  biographer  informs 
us,  he  'disliked  the  society  of  women, 
gaining  nothing  valuable  from  the  trifles 
and  scandal  upon  which  alone  they  could 
converse.*  Possibly  the  society  of  both 
sexes  at  Aix,  in  the  age  of  Peiresc,  was 
such  as,  with  no  excessive  fastidiousness, 
he  might  avoid.  In  his  eagerness  for  new 
truths  he  became  somewhat  credulous ; 
an  error  not,  perhaps,  easy  to  be  avoided, 
while  the  accumulation  of  facts  proceeded 


more  rapidly  than  the  ascertainment  of 
natural  laws.  But  for  a  genuine  liberali 
ty  of  mind  and  extensive  attainments  in 
knowledge  very  few  can  be  compared  to 
Peirese ;  nor,  among  those  who  have  re- 
sembled him  in  this  employment  of  wealth 
and  leisure,  do  I  know  that  any  names 
have  descended  to  posterity  with  equal 
lustre,  except  our  two  countrymen  of  the 
next  generation,  who  approached  so  near- 
ly to  his  character  and  course  of  life,  Boyle 
and  Evelyn. 


CHAPTER  I. 

HISTORY    OF    ANCIENT    LITERATURE    IN    EUROPE    FROM    1650    TO    1700. 


SECTION  I. 

Dutch  Scholars. — Jesuit  and  Jansenist  Philologers. 
Delphin  Editions. —  French  Scholars. —  English 
Scholars. — Bentley. 

1.  THE  death  of  Salmasius,  about  the 
James  Fred-  beginning  of  this  period,  left  a 
eric  Grouo-  chasm  in  critical  literature  which 
no  one  was  equal  to  fill.  But 
the  nearest  to  this  giant  of  philology  was 
James  Frederic  Gronovius,  a  native  of 
Hamburg,  but  drawn,  like  several  more 
of  his  countrymen,  to  the  universities  of 
Holland,  the  peculiarly  learned  state  of 
Europe  through  the  seventeenth  century. 
The  principal  labours  of  Gronovius  were 
those  of  correcting  the  text  of  Latin  wri- 
ters ;  in  Greek  we  find  very  little  due  to 
him.f  His  notes  form  a  useful  and  con- 
siderable part  of  those  which  are  collect- 
ed in  what  are  generally  styled  the  Vario- 
rum editions,  published,  chiefly  after  1660, 
by  the  Dutch  booksellers.  These  contain 
selections  from  the  older  critics,  some  of 
them,  especially  those  fir^  edited,  indif- 
ferently made,  and  often  mutilated ;  oth- 
ers with  more  attention  to  preserve  entire 
the  original  notes.  These,  however,  are, 
for  the  most  part,  only  critical,  as  if  ex- 
planatory observations  were  below  the 
notice  of  an  editor ;  though,  as  Le  Clerc 
says,  those  of  Manutius  on  Cicero's  epis- 
tles cost  him  much  more  time  than  mod- 
ern editors  have  given  to  their  conjec- 
tures.J  In  general,  the  Variorum  editions 
were  not  greatly  prized,  with  the  excep- 
tion of  those  by  the  two  Gronovii  and 
Grsevius.fy 


*  Ga««pr.i'.i,  p.  219. 

t  Baillet.  Critiques  Grammairiens,  n.  548. 
Blonnt  Biogr.  Univ.  {  Parrhasiana,  i.,  233. 

<J  \  list  of  the  Variorum  editions  will  be  found  in 
Baillet,  Critiques  Grammairiens,  n.  604. 


2.  The  place  of  the  elder  Gronovius,  m 
the  latter  part  of  this   present  James  Gro- 
period,  was  filled   by  his   son.  novms. 
James  Gronovius,  by  indefatigable  labour, 
and  by  a  greater  number  of  editions  which 
bear  his  name,  may  be  reckoned,  if  not  a 
greater  philologer,  one  not  less  celebrated 
than  his  father.     He  was,  at  least,  a  bet- 
ter Greek  critic,  and,  in  this   language, 
though  far  below  those  who  were  about 
to  arise,  and  who  did,  in  fact,  eclipse  him 
long  before  his  death,  Bentley  and  Bur- 
man,  he  kept  a  high  place   for  several 
years.*    Gnevius,  another  German  _ 

"  i  i       TV    ,    i          -          -.-        11    uraeviua. 

whom  the  Dutch  universities  had 
attracted  and  retained,  contributed  to  the 
Variorum  editions,  chiefly  those  of  Latin 
authors,  an  erudition  not  less  copious  than 
that  of  any  contemporary  scholar. 

3.  The   philological   character  of  Ge- 
rard Vossius  himself,  if  we  might  isaac 
believe  some   partial  testimonies,  Vossius. 
fell  short  of  that  of  his  son  Isaac ;  whose 
observations  on  Pomponius  Mela,  and  an 
edition  of  Catullus,  did  him  extraordinary 
credit,  and  have  placed  him  among  the 
first  philologers  of  this  age.     He  was  of  a 
more  lively  genius,  and  perhaps  hardly 
less  erudition,  than  his  father,  but  with  a 
paradoxical  judgment,  and  has  certainly 
rendered  much  less  service  to  letters.";}. 
Another  son  of  a  great  father,  Nicolas 
Heinsius,  has  by  none  been  placed  on  a 
level  with  him ;  but  his  editions  of  Pru 
dentius  and  Claudian  are  better  than  any 
that  had  preceded  them. 

4.  Germany  fell  lower  and  lower  in 
classical  literature.     A  writer  as  Dedjne  of 
late  as  1714  complains  that  only  German 
modern    books    of   Latin    were  learning- 

*  Baillet,  n.  548.     Niceron,  ii.,  177. 
+  Niceron,  vol.  xiii. 


FROM  1650  TO  1700. 


273 


taught  in  the  schools,  and  that  the  stu- 
dents in  the  universities  despised  all  gram- 
matical learning.  The  study,  "  not  of  our 
own  language,  which  we  entirely  neglect, 
but  of  French,"  he  reckons  among  the 
causes  of  this  decay  iu  ancient  learning ; 
the  French  translations  of  the  classics  led 
many  to  imagine  that  the  original  could  be 
spanheim.  dispensed  with.*  Ezekiel  Span- 
heim,  envoy  from  the  court  of 
Brandeburg  to  that  of  Louis  XIV.,  was  a 
distinguished  exception  ;  his  edition  of  Ju- 
lian, and  his  notes  on  several  other  wri- 
ters, attest  an  extensive  learning,  which 
has  still  preserved  his  name  in  honour. 
As  the  century  drew  nigh  to  its  close, 
Germany  began  to  revive  ;  a  few  men  of 
real  philological  learning,  especially  Fabri- 
cius,  appeared  as  heralds  of  those  greater 
names  which  adorn  her  literary  annals  in 
the  next  age. 

5.  The  Jesuits  had  long  been  conspicu- 
Jesuitpoi-  ously  the   classical  scholars  .of 
leges  in     'France  ;  in  their  colleges  the  pu- 
France.      rest  an(j  most   eiegant  Latinity 

was  supposed  to  be  found  ;  they  had  early 
cultivated  these  graces  of  literature,  while 
all  polite  writing  was  confined  to  the  Latin 
language,  and  they  still  preserved  them  in 
its  comparative  disuse.  "  The  Jesuits," 
Huet  says,  "  write  and  speak  Latin  well, 
but  their  style  is  almost  always  too  rhe- 
torical. This  is  owing  to  their  keeping 
regencies  (a  usual  phrase  for  academical 
exercises)  from  their  early  youth,  which 
causes  them  to  speak  incessantly  in  pub- 
lic, and  become  accustomed  to  a  sustained 
and  polished  style  above  the  tone  of  com- 
mon subjects."!  Jouvancy,  whose  Latin 
orations  were  published  in  1700,  has  had 
no  equal,  if  we  may  trust  a  panegyrist, 
since  Maffei  and  Muretus.J 

6.  The  Jansenists  appeared  ready  at  one 
Ton  noyai  time  to  wrest  this  palm  from  their 
writers,      inveterate  foes.     Lancelot  threw 
Lancelot.     SQme  additional  lustre  round  Port 
Royal  by  the  Latin  and  Greek  grammars, 
which  are  more  frequently  called  by  the 
name  of  that  famous  cloister  than  by  his 
own.     Both  were  received  with  great  ap- 
probation in  the  French  schools,  except, 
I  suppose,  where  the  Jesuits  predomina- 
ted, and  their  reputation  lasted  for  many 
years.     They  were    never    so    popular, 
though    well    known,    in    this    country. 
"  The  public,"  says  Baillet  of  the  Greek 
grammar,  which  is  rather  the  more  emi- 
nent of  the  two,  "  bears  witness  that  no- 
thing of  its  kind  has  been  more  finished. 
The  order  is  clear  and  concise.     We  find 


*  Bnrckhardt,  De  Linguae  Latinae  hodie  neglectae 
Causis  Oratio,  p.  34. 

t  Huetiana,  p.  71.  t  Biogr.  Univ. 

VOL.  II.— M  M 


in  it  many  remarks,  both  judicious  and 
important  for  the  full  knowledge  of  the 
language.  Though  Lancelot  has  chiefly 
followed  Caninius,  Sylburgius,  Santius, 
and  Vossius,  his  arrangement  is  new,  and 
he  has  selected  what  is  most  valuable  in 
their  works."*  In  fact,  he  professes  to 
advance  nothing  of  his  own,  being  more 
indebted,  he  says,  to  Caninius  than  to  any 
one  else.  The  method  of  Clenardus  he 
disapproves,  and  thinks  that  of  Ramus  in- 
tricate. He  adopts  the  division  into  three 
declensions.  But  his  notions  of  the  prop- 
er meaning  of  the  tenses  are  strangely 
confused  and  erroneous :  several  other 
mistakes  of  an  obvious  nature,  as  we 
should  now  say,  will  occur  in  his  syntax  ; 
and,  upon  the  whole,  the  Port  Royal  gram- 
mar does  not  give  us  a  high  idea  of  the 
critical  knowledge  of  the  seventeenth  cen- 
tury, as  to  the  more  difficult  language  of 
antiquity. 

7.  The  Latin,  on  the  other  hand,  had 
been  so  minutely  and  laboriously  Latin  gram- 
studied,  that  little   more   than  mars.   i'er- 
gleanings  after  a  great  harvest  I7'omus- 
could  be  obtained.     The  Aristarchus  of 
Vossius,  and  his  other  grammatical  works, 
though  partly  not  published  till  this  period, 
have  been  mentioned  in  the  former  vol- 
ume.    Perizonius,  a  professor  at  Frane- 
ker,  and  in  many  respects  one  of  the  most 
learned  of  this  age,  published  a  good  edi- 
tion of  the  Minerva  of  Sanctius  in  1687. 
This  celebrated  grammar  had  become  very 
scarce,  as  well  as  that  of  Scioppius,  which 
contained  nothing  but  remarks  upon  Sanc- 
tius.    Perizonius  combined  the  two  with 
notes  more  ample  than  those  of  Scioppius, 
and  more  bold  in  differing  from  the  Span- 
ish grammarian. 

8.  If  other  editions  of  the  classical  au- 
thors have  been  preferred  by  crit-  Deiphin 
ics,  none,  at  least  of  this  period,  editions. 
have   been   more   celebrated   that  those 
which  Louis  XIV.,  at  the  suggestion  of 
the  Duke  de  Montausier,  caused  to  be  pre- 
pared for  the  use  of  the  Dauphin.     The 
object  in  view  was  to  elucidate  the  Latin 
writers,  both  by  a  continual  gloss  in  the 
margin,  and  by  such  notes  as  should  bring 
a  copious  mass  of  ancient  learning  to  bear 
on  the  explanation,  not  of  the  more  diffi- 
cult passages  alone,  but  of  all  those  in 
which  an  ordinary  reader  might  require 
some  aid.     The  former  of  these  is  less 
useful   and    less   satisfactorily  executed 
than  the  latter ;  for  the  notes,  it  must  be 
owned  that,  with  much  that  is  superfluous 
even  to  tolerable  scholars,  they  bring  to- 
gether a  great  deal  of  very  serviceable 


*  Baillet,  n.  714. 


274 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


illustration.  The  choice  of  authors  as 
well  as  of  editors  was  referred  to  Huet, 
who  fixed  the  number  of  the  former  at  for- 
ty. The  idea  of  an  index  on  a  more  ex- 
tensive plan  than  in  any  earlier  editions 
was  also  due  to  Huet,  who  had  designed 
to  fuse  those  of  each  work  into  one  more 
general,  as  a  standing  historical  analysis 
of  the  Latin  language.*  These  editions 
are  of  very  unequal  merit,  as  might  be  ex- 
pected from  the  number  of  persons  em- 
ployed ;  a  list  of  whom  will  be  found  in 
13aillet.| 

9.  Tanaquil  Faber,  thus  better  known 
l,e  Fevre  and  than  by  his  real  name,  Tanne- 
the  Daciers.  gUy  \e  Fevre,  a  man  learned,  an- 
imated, not  fearing  the  reproach  of  para- 
dox, acquired  a  considerable  name  among 
French  critics  by  several  editions,  as  well 
as  by  other  writings  in  philology.     But 
none  of  his  literary  productions  were  so 
celebrated  as  his  daughter,  Anne  le  Fevre, 
afterward  Madame  Dacier.     The  knowl- 
edge of  Greek,  though  once  not  very  un- 
common in  a  woman,  had  become  pro- 
digious in  the  days  of  Louis  XIV. ;  and 
•when  this  distinguished  lady  taught  Ho- 
mer and  Sappho  to  speak  French  prose, 
she  appeared  a  phoenix  in  the  eyes  of  her 
countrymen.     She  was  undoubtedly  a  per- 
son of  very  rare  talents  and  estimable 
character  ;  her  translations  are  numerous 
and  reputed  to  be  correct,  though  Niceron 
has  observed  that  she  did  not  raise  Homer 
in  the  eyes  of  those  who  were  not  preju- 
diced in  his  favour.     Her  husband  was  a 
scholar  of  kindred  mind  and  the   same 
pursuits.     Their   union  was   facetiously 
called  the  wedding  of  Latin  and  Greek. 
But  each  of  this  learned  couple  was  skill- 
ed in  both  languages.     Dacier  was  a  great 
translator ;  his  Horace  is  perhaps  the  best 
known  of  his  versions ;  but  the  Poetics 
of  Aristotle  have  done  him  most  honour. 
The  Daciers  had  to  fight  the  battle  of  an- 
tiquity against  a  generation  both  ignorant 
and  vainglorious,  yet  keen-sighted  in  the 
detection  of  blemishes,  and  disposed  to 
avenge  the  wrongs  of  their  fathers,  who 
had  been  trampled  upon  by  pedants  with 
the  help  of  a  new  pedantry,  that  of  the 
court  and  the  mode.     With  great  learning, 
they  had  a  competent  share  of  good  sense, 
but  not,  perhaps,  a  sufficiently  discerning 
taste,  or  liveliness    enough  of  style   to 
maintain  a  cause  that  had  so  many  preju- 
dices of  the  world  now  enlisted  against  it.J 

10.  Henry  Valois  might  have  been  men- 


*  Huetiana,  p.  92. 

t  Critiques  Grammairiens,  n.  605. 

J  Baillet.  Niceron,  vol.  iii.  Bibliotheque  Uni- 
verselle,  x.,  295  ;  xxii.,  176 ;  xxiv.,  241,  261.  Biogr. 
Univ. 


tioned  before  for  his  edition  of  Henry  v«- 
Ammianus  Marcellinus  in  1636,  '°is-  Con?- 
which  established  his  philolo-  S"?^ 
gical  reputation.  Many  other  >»ng. 
works  in  the  same  line  of  criticism  fol- 
lowed ;  he  is  among  the  great  ornaments 
of  learning  in  this  period.  Nor  was 
France  destitute  of  others  that  did  her 
honour.  Cotelier,  it  is  said,  deserved  by 
his  knowledge  of  Greek  to  be  placed  on  a 
level  with  the  great  scholars  of  former 
times.  Yet  there  seems  to  have  been 
some  decline,  at  least  towards  the  close 
of  the  century,  in  that  prodigious  erudition 
which  had  distinguished  the  preceding  pe- 
riod. "  For  we  know  no  one,"  says  Le 
Clerc,  about  1699,  "who  equals  in  learn- 
ing, in  diligence,  and  in  the  quantity  of  his 
works,  the  Scaligers,  the  Lipsii,  the  Ca- 
saubons,  the  Salmasii,  the  Meursii,  the 
Vossii,  the  Seldens,  the  Gronovii,  and 
many  more  of  former  times."*  Though 
perhaps  in  this  reflection  there  was  some- 
thing of  the  customary  bias  against  the 
present  generation,  we  must  own  that  the 
writings  of  scholars  were  less  massive, 
and,  consequently,  gave  less  apparent  evi- 
dence of  industry  than  formerly.  But  in 
classical  philology  at  least,  a  better  day 
was  about  to  arise,  and  the  first  omen  of 
it  came  from  a  country  not  yet  much 
known  in  that  literature. 

11.  It  has  been  observed  in  the  former 
part  of  this  volume,  that,  while  English 
England  was  very  far  from  want-  learning, 
ing  men  of  extensive  erudition,  she  DuP°n- 
had  not  been  at  all  eminent  in  classi- 
cal literature.  The  proof  which  the  ab- 
sence of  critical  writings,  or  even  of  any 
respectable  editions,  furnishes,  appears 
weighty;  nor  can  it  be  repelled  by  suffi- 
cient testimony.  In  the  middle  of  the 
century,  James  Duport,  Greek  professor 
at  Cambridge,  deserves  honour  by  stand- 
ing almost  alone.  "  He  appears,"  says  a 
late  biographer,  "  to  have  been  the  main 
instrument  by  which  literature  was  upheld 
in  this  university  during  the  civil  disturb- 
ances of  the  seventeenth  century ;  and, 
though  little  known  at  present,  he  enjoyed 
an  almost  transcendant  reputation  for  a 
great  length  of  time  among  his  contem- 
poraries, as  well  as  in  the  generation  winch 
immediately  succeeded."!  Duport,  how- 
ever, has  little  claim  to  this  reputation  ex- 


*  Parrhasiana,  vol.  L,  p.  225.  Je  viens  d'appren- 
dre,  says  Charles  Patin  in  one  of  his  letters,  que 
M.  Gronovius  est  mort  &  Leyden.  II  restoit  pres- 
que  tout  seul  du  nombre  des  savans  d'Hollande.  II 
n'est  plus  dans  ce  pais-la  des  gens  fails  comrr.e  Jos 
Scaliger,  Baudius,  Heinsius,  Salmasius,  et  Grotius. 
(P.  582.) 

t  Museum  Criticum,  vol.  ii.,  p.  672  (by  the  Bishop 
of  Gloucester  and  Bristol). 


FROM  1650  TO  1700. 


275 


cept  by  translations  of  the  writings  of 
Solomon,  the  book  of  Job,  and  the  Psalms, 
into  Greek  hexameters,  concerning  which 
his  biographer  gently  intimates  that  "his 
notions  of  versification  were  not  formed 
in  a  severe  or  critical  school,"  and  by  what 
has  certainly  been  more  esteemed,  his 
Homeri  Gnomologia,  which  Le  Clerc  and 
Bishop  Monk  agree  to  praise,  as  very  use- 
ful to  the  student  of  Homer.  Duport  gave 
also  some  lectures  on  Theophrastus  about 
1656,  which  were  afterward  published  in 
Needham's  edition  of  that  author.  "  In 
these,"  says  Le  Clerc,  "  he  explains  words 
with  much  exactness,  and  so  as  to  show 
that  he  understood  the  analogy  of  the 
language."*  "  They  are,  upon  the  whole, 
calculated,"  says  the  Bishop  of  Gloucester, 
"to  give  no  unfavourable  opinion  of  the 
state  of  Greek  learning  in  the  University 
at  that  memorable  crisis." 

12.  It  cannot  be   fairly  said  that  our 
Greek  not    universities  declined  in  general 
much  stud-  learning  under  the  usurpation  of 

Cromwell.  They  contained,  on 
the  contrary,  more  extraordinary  men  than 
in  any  earlier  period,  but  not  generally  well 
affected  to  the  predominant  power.  Greek, 
however,  seems  not  much  to  have  flourish- 
ed, even  immediately  after  the  restoration. 
Barrow,  who  was  chosen  Greek  professor 
in  1660,  complains  that  no  one  attended 
his  lectures.  "I  sit  like  an  Attic  owl," 
he  says,  "  driven  out  from  the  society  of 
all  other  birds. "f  According,  indeed,  to 
the  scheme  of  study  retained  from  a  more 
barbarous  age,  no  knowledge  of  the  Greek 
language  appears  to  have  been  required 
from  the  students  as  necessary  for  their 
degrees.  And  if  we  may  believe  a  satiri- 
cal writer  of  the  time  of  Charles  II.,  but 
one  whose  satire  had  great  circulation  and 
was  not  taxed  with  falsehood,  the  gen- 
eral state  of  education,  both  in  the  schools 
and  universities,  was  as  narrow,  pedantic, 
and  unprofitable  as  can  be  conceived. J 

13.  We  were  not,  nevertheless,  desti- 
Gataker-s     tute   of  men  distinguished    for 
Cinnus  and  critical  skill,  even  from  the  com- 
Antoninus.   mencement  Of  this  period.     The 
first  was  a  very  learned  divine,  Thomas 
Gataker,  0113  whom  a  foreign  writer  has 


*  Bibliotheque  Choisie,  xxv.,  18. 

t  See  a  biographical  memoir  of  Barrow  prefixed 
to  Hus;hps's  edition  of  his  works.  This  contains  a 
sketch  of  studies  pursued  in  the  University  of  Cam- 
bridge from  the  twelfth  to  the  seventeenth  century ; 
brief,  in-leed,  but  such  as  I  should  have  been  glad  to 
have  seon  before,  p.  62.  No  alteration  in  the  stat- 
utes, so  far  as  they  related  to  study,  was  made  af- 
ter the  time  of  Henry  VIII.  or  Edward  VI. 

J  Eachard's  Grounds  and  Occasions  of  the  Con- 
tempt of  the  Clergy.  This  little  tract  was  published 
IK  1670,  and  went 'through  ten  editions  by  1696. 


placed  among  the  six  Protestants  most 
conspicuous,  in  his  judgment,  for  depth  of 
reading.  His  Cinnus,  sive  Adversaria  Mis- 
cellanea, published  in  1651,  to  which  a 
longer  work,  entitled  Adversaria  Posthu- 
ma,  is  subjoined  in  later  editions,  may  be 
introduced  here  ;  since,  among  a  far  great- 
er number  of  Scriptural  explanations,  both 
of  these  miscellanies  contain  many  re- 
lating to  profane  antiquity.  He  claims 
a  higher  place  for  his  edition  of  Marcus 
Antoninus  the  next  year.  This  is  the 
earliest  edition,  if  I  am  not  mistaken,  of 
any  classical  writer  published  in  England 
with  original  annotations.  Those  of  Ga- 
takcr  evince  a  very  copious  learning,  and 
the  edition  is  still,  perhaps,  reckoned  the 
best  that  has  been  given  of  this  author. 

14.  Thomas  Stanley,  author  of  the  His- 
tory of  Ancient  Philosophy,  un-  Stanley's 
dertook  a  more  difficult  task,  and  ^schyius. 
gave,  in  1603,  his  celebrated  edition  of 
^Eschylus.     It  was,  as  every  one  has  ad- 
mitted, by  far  superior  to  any  that  had 
preceded  it ;  nor  can  Stanley's  real  praise 
be  effaced,  though  it  may  be  diminished, 
by  an  unfortunate  charge  that  has  been 
brought  against  him,  of  having  appropria- 
ted to  himself  the  conjectures,  most  of 
them   unpublished,   of  Casaubon,  Dorat, 
and  Scaliger,  to  the  number  of  at  least  300 
emendations  of  the  text.     It  will  hardly 
be  reckoned  a  proof  of  our  nationality,  thai 
a  living  English  scholar  was  the  first  to 
detect  and  announce  this  plagiarism  of  a 
critic,  in  whom  we  had  been  accustomed 
to  take  pride,  from  these  foreigners.*   Af- 
ter these  plumes  have  been  withdrawn, 
Stanley's  ^Eschylus  will  remain  a  great 
monument  of  critical  learning. 

15.  Meric  Casaubon  by  his  notes  on  Per- 
sius,  Antoninus,  and  Diogenes  other  English 
Laertius,  Pearson  by  those  on  phiioiogers. 
the  last  author,  Gale  on  lamblichus,  Price 
on  Apuleius,  Hudson  by  his  editions  of 
Thucydides  and  Josephus,  Potter  by  that 
of  Lycophron,  Baxter  of  Anacreon,  attest- 
ed the  progress  of  classical  learning  in  a 
soil  so  well  fitted  to  give  it  nourishment. 
The  same  William  Baxter  published  the 
first  grammar,  not  quite  elementary,  which 
had  appeared  in  England,  entitled  De  An- 
alogia,  seu  Arte  Latinae  Linguae  Commen- 
tarius.     It  relates  principally  to  etymolo- 
gy, and  to  the  deduction  of  the  different 
parts  of  the  verb  from  a  stem,  which  he 
conceives  to   be   the   imperative    mood. 
Baxter  was  a  man  of  some  ability,  but,  in 
the  style  of  critics,  offensively  contemp- 
tuous towards  his  brethren  of  the  craft. 


*  Edinburgh  Review,  xix.,  494.    Museum  Criti- 
cum,  ii.,  498  (both  by  the  Bishop  of  London). 


276 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


16.  We  must  hasten  to  the  greatest  of 
Bentiey.      English  critics  in  this,  or,  possi- 
Hts  epistle  bly,  any  other  age,  Richard  Bent- 
to  Mm.      iev     His  first  book  was  the  Epis- 
tle to  Mill,  subjoined  to  the  latter's  edition 
of  the  chronicle  of  John  Malala,  a  Greek 
writer  of  the  lower  empire.     In  a  desul- 
tory and  almost  garrulous  strain,  Bentiey 
pours  forth  an  immense  store  of  novel 
learning  and  of  acute  criticism,  especially 
on  his  favourite  subject,  which  was  des- 
tined to  become  his  glory,  the  scattered 
relics   of  the   ancient  dramatists.      The 
style  of  Bentiey,  always  terse  and  lively, 
sometimes  humorous  and  dryly  sarcastic, 
whether  he  wrote  in  Latin  or  in  English, 
could  not  but   augment  the    admiration 
which  his  learning  challenged.     Graevius 
and  Spanheim  pronounced  him  the  rising 
star  of  British  literature,  and  a  correspond- 
ence with  the  former  began  in  1692,  which 
continued  in  unbroken  friendship  till  his 
death. 

17.  But  the  rare  qualities  of  Bentiey 
Dissertation  were  more  abundantly  displayed, 
on  Phaiaris.  and  before  the  eyes  of  a  more 
numerous  tribunal,  in  his  famous  disser- 
tation on  the  epistles  ascribed  to  Phaiaris. 
This  was  provoked,  in  the  first  instance, 
by  a  few  lines  of  eulogy  on  these  epistles 
by  Sir  William  Temple,  who  pretended  to 
find  in  them  indubitable  marks  of  authen- 
ticity.    Bentiey,  in  a  dissertation  subjoin- 
ed to  Wotton's  Reflections  on  Modern  and 
Ancient  Learning,  gave  tolerably  conclu- 
sive proofs  of  the  contrary.    A  young  man 
of  high  family  and  respectable  learning, 
Charles  Boyle,  had  published  an  edition  of 
the  Epistles  of  Phaiaris,  with  some  reflec- 
tion on  Bentiey  for  personal  incivility ;  a 
charge  which  he  seems  to  have  satisfac- 
torily disproved.     Bentiey  animadverted 
on  this  in  his  dissertation.    Boyle,  the  next 
year,  with  the  assistance  of  some  leading 
men  at  Oxford,  Aldrich,  King,  and  Atter- 
bury,  published  his  Examination  of  Bent- 
ley's   Dissertation  on  Phaiaris  ;  a  book 
generally  called,  in  familiar  brevity,  Boyle 
against  Bentiey.*    The  Cambridge  giant 
of  criticism  replied  in  an  answer  which 
goes  by  the   name   of   Bentiey  against 
Boyle.     It  was  the  first  great  literary  war 
that  had  been  waged  in  England ;  and, 
like  that  of  Troy,  it  has  still  the  preroga- 
tive of  being  remembered  after  the  Epis- 
tles of  Phaiaris  are  almost  as  much  buried 
as  the  walls  of  Troy  itself.     Both  combat- 
ants were  skilful  in  wielding  the  sword : 


*  "  The  principal  share  in  the  undertaking  fell  to 
the  lot  of  Atterbury ;  this  was  suspected  at  the 
time,  and  has  since  been  placed  beyond  all  doubt 
by  the  publication  of  a  letter  of  his  to  Boyle." — 
Monk's  Life  of  Bentiey,  p.  69. 


the  arms  of  Boyle,  in  Swift's  language, 
were  given  him  by  all  the  gods ;  but  his 
antagonist  stood  forward  in  no  such  figu- 
rative strength,  master  of  a  learning  to 
which  nothing  parallel  had  been  known  in 
England,  and  that  directed  by  an  under- 
standing prompt,  discriminating,  not  idly 
skeptical,  but  still  farther  removed  from 
trust  in  authority,  sagacious  in  perceiving 
corruptions  of  language,  and  ingenious,  at 
the  least,  in  removing  them,  with  a  style 
rapid,  concise,  amusing,  and  superior  to 
Boyle  in  that  which  he  had  most  to  boast, 
a  sarcastic  wit.* 

18.  It  may  now  seem  extraordinary  to 
us,  even  without  looking  at  the  anachro- 
nisms or  similar  errors  which  Bentiey  has 
exposed,  that  any  one  should  be  deceived 
by  the  Epistles  of  Phaiaris.     The  rhetor- 
ical commonplaces,  the  cold  declamation 
of  the  sophist,  the  care  to  please  the  read- 
er, the  absence  of  that  simplicity,  with 
which  a  man  who  has  never  known  re- 
straint in  disguising  his  thoughts  or  choos- 
ing his  words  is  sure  to  express  himself, 
strike  us  in  the  pretended  letters  of  this 
buskined  tyrant,  the  Icon  Basilice  of  the 
ancient  world.     But  this  was   doubtless 
thought  evidence  of  their  authenticity  by 
many,  who  might  say,  as  others  have  done 
in  a  happy  vein  of  metaphor,  that  they 
seemed  not  written  with  a  pen,  but  with  a 
sceptre.     The  argument  from  the  use  of 
the  Attic  dialect  by  a  Sicilian  tyrant,  con- 
temporary with  Pythagoras,  is  of  itself 
conclusive,  and  would  leave  no  doubt  in 
the  present  day. 

19.  "It  may  be  remarked,"  says  the 
Bishop   of  Gloucester.  "  that  a  Disadvan. 
scholar  at   that  time  possessed  tages  of 
neither  the  aids  nor  the  encour-  ^tol"g in 
agements   which   are  now  pre- 
sented to  smooth  the  paths  of  literature. 
The  grammars  of  the  Latin  and  Greek 
languages  were  imperfectly  and  errone- 
ously  taught;    and    the    critical   scholar 
must  have  felt  severely  the  absence  of 


*  "  In  point  of  classical  learning,  the  joint  stock 
of  the  confederacy  bore  no  proportion  to  that  of 
Bentiey ;  their  acquaintance  with  several  of  the 
hooks  upon  which  they  comment  appears  only  to 
have  begun  on  that  occasion,  and  sometimes  they 
are  indebted  for  their  knowledge  of  them  to  their 
adversary  ;  compared  with  his  boundless  erudition, 
their  learning  was  that  of  schoolboys,  and  not  al- 
ways sufficient  to  preserve  them  from  distressing 
mistakes.  But  profound  literature  was  at  that  pe- 
riod confined  to  few,  while  wit  and  raillery  found 
numerous  and  eager  readers.  It  may  be  doubtful 
whether  Busby  himself,  by  whom  every  one  of  the 
confederated  band  had  been  educated,  possessed 
knowledge  which  would  have  qualified  him  to  enter 
the  lists  in  such  a  controversy." — Monk's  Bentiey, 
p.  69.  Warburton  has  justly  said,  that  Bentiey,  by 
his  wit,  foiled  the  Oxford  men  at  their  own  weapons. 


FROM  1650  TO  1700. 


277 


sufficient  indexes,  particularly  of  the  volu- 
minous scholiasts,  grammarians,  and  later 
writers  of  Greece,  in  the  examination  of 
which  no  inconsiderable  portion  of  a  life 
might  be  consumed.  Bentley,  relying 
upon  his  own  exertions  and  the  resources 
of  his  own  mind,  pursued  an  original  path 
of  criticism,  in  which  the  intuitive  quick- 
ness and  subtlety  of  his  genius  qualified 
him  to  excel.  In  the  faculty  of  memory, 
so  important  for  such  pursuits,  he  has 
himself  candidly  declared  that  he  was  not 
particularly  gifted.  Consequently,  he  prac- 
tised throughout  life  the  precaution  of 
noting  in  the  margin  of  his  books  the  sug- 
gestions and  conjectures  which  rushed 
into  his  mind  during  their  perusal.  To 
this  habit  of  laying  up  materials  in  store 
we  may  partly  attribute  the  surprising  ra- 
pidity with  which  some  of  his  most  im- 
portant works  were  completed.  He  was 
also  at  the  trouble  of  constructing  for  his 
own  use  indexes  of  authors  quoted' by  the 
principal  scholiasts,  by  Eustathius  and  oth- 
er ancient  commentators,  of  a  nature  sim- 
ilar to  those  afterward  published  by  Fa- 
bricius  in  his  Bibliotheca  Graeca;  which 
latter  were  the  produce  of  the  joint  labour 
of  various  hands."* 


SECT.  II.     ON  ANTIQUITIES. 

Graevius  and  Gronovius. — Fabretti. —  Numismatic 
Writers. — Chronology. 

20.  THE  two  most  industrious  scholars 
Thesauri  of  of  their  time,  Graevius  and  Gro- 
Gravius  and  novius,  collected  into  one  body 
ofGronovius.  such  of  the  numerous  treatises 

on  Roman  and  Greek  antiquities  as  they 
thought  most  worthy  of  preservation  in  a 
uniform  and  accessible  work.  These 
form  the  Thesaurus  Antiquitatum  Roman- 
arum  by  Graevius,  in  twelve  volumes,  the 
Thesaurus  Antiquitatum  Graecarum  by 
Gronovius,  in  thirteen  volumes ;  the  for- 
mer published  in  1694,  the  first  volumes  of 
the  latter  in  1697.  They  comprehend 
many  of  the  labours  of  the  older  antiqua- 
ries already  commemorated  from  the  mid- 
dle of  the  sixteenth  to  that  of  the  seven- 
teenth century,  and  some  also  of  a  later 
date.  Among  these,  in  the  collection  of 
Graevius,  are  a  treatise  of  Albert  Rubens, 
son  of  the  great  painter,  on  the  dress  of 
the  Romans,  particularly  the  laticlave 
(Antwerp,  1665).  the  enlarged  edition  of 
Octavius  Ferrarius  on  the  same  subject, 
several  treatises  by  Spanheim  and  Ursa- 
tus,  and  the  Roma  Antiea  of  Nardina, 


Monk's  Life  of  Bentley,  p.  12. 


published  in  1666.  Gronovius  gave  a 
place  in  his  twelfth  volume  (1702)  to  the 
very  recent  work  of  a  young  Englishman. 
Potter's  Antiquities,  which  the  author,  at 
the  request  of  the  veteran  antiquary,  had 
so  much  enlarged,  that  the  Latin  transla- 
tion in  Gronovius  is  nearly  double  in 
length  the  first  edition  of  the  English.* 
The  warm  eulogies  of  Gronovius  attest 
the  merit  of  this  celebrated  work.  Pot- 
ter was  but  twenty-three  years  of  age  ;  he 
had,  of  course,  availed  himself  of  the  wri- 
tings of  Meursius,  but  he  has  also  contrib- 
uted to  supersede  them.  It  has  been  said 
that  he  is  less  exact  in  attending  to  the 
difference  of  times  and  places  than  our 
finer  criticism  requires.! 

21.  Bellori  in  a  long  list  of  antiquarian 
writings,  Falconieri  in  several  more,  FabrettL 
especially  his  Inscriptiones  Athlct- 
icag,  maintained  the  honour  of  Italy  in  this 
province,  so  justly  claimed  as  her  own.J 
But  no  one  has  been  accounted  equal  to 
Raphael  Fabretti,  by  judges  so  competent 
as  Maffei,  Gravina,  Fabroni,  and  Viscon- 
ti.fy  His  diligence  in  collecting  inscrip- 
tions was  only  surpassed  by  his  sagacity 
in  explaining  them  ;  and  his  authority  has 
been  preferred  to  that  of  any  other  anti- 
quary. ||  His  time  was  spent  in  delving 
among  ruins  and  vaults  to  explore  the  sub- 
terranean treasures  of  Latium ;  no  heat,  , 
nor  cold,  nor  rain,  nor  badness  of  road 
could  deter  him  from  these  solitary  pere- 
grinations. Yet  the  glory  of  Fabretti 
must  be  partly  shared  with  his  horse. 
This  wise  and  faithful  animal,  named  Mar- 
co Polo,  had  acquired,  it  is  said,  the  habit 
of  standing  still,  and,  as  it  were,  pointing 
when  he  came  near  an  antiquity ;  his 
master  candidly  owning  that  several 
things  which  would  have  escaped  him  had 
been  detected  by  the  antiquarian  quadru- 
ped.Tf  Fabretti's  principal  works  are  three 
dissertations  on  the  Roman  aqueducts, 
and  one  on  the  Trajan  column.  Little, 
says  Fabroni,  was  known  before  about 
the  Roman  galleys  or  their  naval  affairs 
in  general.**  Fabretti  was  the  first  who 
reduced  lapidary  remains  into  classes,  and 
arranged  them  so  as  to  illustrate  each 
other ;  a  method,  says  one  of  his  most 
distinguished  successors,  which  has  laid 
the  foundations  of  the  science. tf  A  pro- 
fusion of  collateral  learning  is  mingled 


*  The  first  edition  of  Potter's  Antiquities  was 
published  in  1697  and  1698. 

t  Bio^r  Univ.  J  Salfi,  vol.  xi.,  364. 

§  Fabretti's  life  has  been  written  by  two  very  fa- 
vourahle  biographers.  Fabroni,  in  Vitae  Italorum,  vol. 
vi  ,  and  Visconti,  in  the  Biographic  Universelle. 

II  Fabroni,  p.  187.     BiogrUniv. 

If  Fabroni,  p.  192.    *•  P.  201.     -ft  Biogr.  Univ 


278 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


with  the  main  stream  of  all  his  investiga- 
tions. 

22.  No  one  had  ever  come  to  the  study 
Knmismat-   °f  »nedals  with  such  stores  of 
its:    Span-  erudition  as  Ezekiel  Spanheim. 

tan?1'  VaU"  The  earlier  writers  on  the  sub- 
ject, Vico,Erizzo,Angeloni,  were 
not  comparable  to  him,  and  had  rather 
dwelt  on  the  genuineness  or  rarity  of 
coins  than  on  their  usefulness  in  illustra- 
ting history.  Spanheim's  Dissertations  on 
the  Use  of  Medals,  the  second  improved 
edition  of  which  appeared  in  1671,  first 
connected  them  with  the  most  profound 
and  critical  research  into  antiquity.*  Vail- 
lant,  travelling  into  the  Levant,  brought 
home  great  treasures  of  Greek  coinage, 
especially  those  of  the  Seleucidas,  at  once 
enriching  the  cabinets  of  the  curious  and 
establishing  historical  truth.  Medallic 
evidence,  in  fact,  may  be  reckoned  among 
those  checks  upon  the  negligence  of  his- 
torians, which,  having  been  retrieved  by 
industrious  antiquaries,  have  created  that 
cautious  and  discerning  spirit  which  has 
been  exercised  in  later  times  upon  facts, 
and  which,  beginning  in  skepticism,  pass- 
es onward  to  a  more  rational,  and,  there- 
fore, more  secure  conviction  of  what  can 
fairly  be  proved.  Jobert,  in  1692,  consol- 
idated the  researches  of  Spanheim,  Vail- 
laht,  and  other  numismatic  writers  in  his 
book,  entitled  La  Science  des  Medailles, 
a  better  system  of  the  science  than  had 
been  published.! 

23.  It  would,  of  course,  not  be  difficult 
Chronology:  to  fill  these  pages  with  brief  no- 
Usher,          tices  of  other  books   that  fall 
within  the   extensive  range  of  classical 
antiquity.    But  we  have  no  space  for  more 
than  a  mere  enumeration,  which  would 
give  little  satisfaction.     Chronology  has 
received  some   attention  in  our  former 
volume.     Our  learned  Archbishop  Usher 
might  there  have  been  named,  since  the 
first  part  of  his  Annals  of  the  Old  Testa- 
ment, which  goes  down  to  the  year  of  the 
world  3828,  was  published  in  1650.     The 
second  part  followed  in  1654.     This  has 
been  the  chronology  generally  adopted  by 
English  historians,  as  well  as  by  Bossuet, 
Calmet,  and  Rollin,  so  that  for  many  years 
it  might  be  called  the  orthodox  scheme  of 
Europe.     No  former  annals  of  the  world 
had  been  so  exact  in  marking  dates  and 
collating  sacred  history  with  profane.     It 
was,  therefore,  exceedingly  convenient  for 
those  who,  possessing  no  sufficient  leisure 
or  learning  for  these  inquiries,  might  very 
reasonably  confide  in  such  authority. 

24.  Usher,  like  Scaliger  and  Petavius, 

*  Bibl.  Choisie,  vol.  xxii.  f  Biogr.  Univ. 


had  strictly  conformed  to  the  He- 
brew chronology  in  all  scriptural 
dates.  But  it  is  well  known  that  the  Sep- 
tuagint  version,  and  also  the  Samaritan 
Pentateuch,  differ  greatly  from  the  He- 
brew and  from  each  other,  so  that  the 
age  of  the  world  has  nearly  2000  years 
more  antiquity  in  the  Greek  than  in  the 
original  text.  Jerome  had  followed  the 
latter  in  the  Vulgate ;  and,  in  the  seven- 
teenth century,  it  was  usual  to  maintain 
the  incorrupt  purity  of  the  Hebrew  man- 
uscripts, so  that  when  Pezron,  in  his  An- 
tiquite  des  Temps  Devoilee,  1687,  attempt- 
ed to  establish  the  Scptuagint  chronology, 
it  excited  a  clamour  in  some  of  his  church 
as  derogatory  to  the  Vulgate  translation. 
Martianay  defended  the  received  chronol- 
ogy, and  the  system  of  Pezron  gained  lit- 
tle favour  in  that  age.*  It  has  since  be- 
come more  popular,  chiefly,  perhaps,  on 
account  of  the  greater  latitude  it  gives  to 
speculations  on  the  origin  of  kingdoms 
and  other  events  of  the  early  world,  which 
are  certainly  somewhat  cramped  in  the 
common  reckoning.  But  the  Septusigint 
chronology  is  not  free  from  its  own  diffi- 
culties, and  the  internal  evidence  seems 
rather  against  its  having  been  the  origi- 
nal. Where  two  must  be  wrong,  it  is 
possible  that  all  three  may  be  so  ;  and  the 
most  judicious  inquirers  into  ancient  his- 
tory have  of  late  been  coming  to  the 
opinion  that,  with  some  few  exceptions, 
there  are  no  means  of  establishing  accu- 
rate dates  before  the  Olympiads.  While 
the  more  ancient  history  itself,  even  in 
leading  and  important  events,  is  so  pre- 
carious at>  must  be  acknowledged,  there 
can  be  little  confidence  in  chronological 
schemes.  They  seem,  however,  to  be 
very  seducing,  so  that  those  who  enter 
upon  the  subject  as  skeptics  become  be- 
lievers in  their  own  theory. 

25.  Among  those  who  addressed  their 
attention  to  particular  portions  of  ., 

i  CM-       TUTU        u          Marsham. 

chronology,  Sir  John  Marsham 
ought  to  be  mentioned.  In  his  Canon 
Chronicus  jEgyptiacus  he  attempted,  as 
the  learned  were  still  more  prone  than 
they  are  now,  to  reconcile  conflicting  au- 
thorities without  rejecting  any.  He  is 
said  to  have  first  started  the  ingenious 
idea  that  the  Egyptian  dynasties,  stretch- 
ing to  such  immense  antiquity,  were  not 
successive,  but  collateral. f  Marsham  fell, 
like  many  others  after  him.  into  the  un- 
fortunate mistake  of  confounding  Sesos- 
tris  with  Sesac.  But  in  times  when  dis- 


*  Biogr.  Univ.,  arts  Pezrcn  and  Martianay 
Bibliothfeque  Univ.,  xxiv.,  103. 

t  Biogr.  Britannica.  I  have  some  suspicion  that 
this  will  be  found  in  Lydiat. 


FROM  1650  TO  1700. 


coveries  that  Marsham  could  not  have 
anticipated  were  yet  at  a  distance,  he  is 
extolled  by  most  of  those  who  had  labour- 
ed, by  help  of  the  Greek  and  Hebrew 


279 


writers  alone,  to  fix  ancient  history  on  a 
stable  foundation,  as  the  restorer  of  the 
Egyptian  annals. 


CHAPTER  II. 


HISTORY  OF  THEOLOGICAL  LITERATURE  FROM  1650  TO  1700. 


SECTION  I. 

Papal  Power  limited  by  the  Gallican  Church. — 
Dupiu.  —  Fleury.  —  Protestant  Controversy.  — 
Bossuet :  his  Assaults  on  Protestantism. — Jan- 
senism.—  Progress  of  Armmianistn  m  England. 
— Trinitarian  Controversy. — Defences  of  Chris- 
tianity. —  Pascal's  Thoughts.  —  Toleration.  — 
Boyle. —  Locke. —  French  Sermons — And  Eng- 
lish.—Other  Theological  Works. 

1.  IT  has  been  observed  in  a  former  part 
Duciine  of   °f  tn^s  v°lume>  that  while  little 
papal  influ-  or  no  decline  could  be  perceived 
ence-          in  the  general  Church  of  Rome 
at  the  conclusion  of  that  period  which  we 
then  had  before  us,  yet  the  papal  authori- 
ty itself  had  lost  a  part  of  that  formidable 
character  which,  through  the  Jesuits,  and 
especially  Bellarmin.  it  had  some  years 
before  assumed.    This  was  now  stiil  more 
decidedly  manifest :  the  temporal  power 
over  kings  was  not  certainly  renounced, 
for  Rome  never  retracts  anything;  nor 
was  it,  perhaps,  without  Italian  Jesuits  to 
write  in  its  behalf ;  but  the  common  con- 
sent of  nations  rejected  it  so  strenuously, 
that  on  no  occasion  has  it  been  brought 
forward  by  any  accredited  or  eminent  ad- 
vocate.    There  was  also  a  growing  dis- 
position to  control  the  court  of  Rome  ;  the 
treaty  of  Westphalia  was  concluded  in  ut- 
ter disregard  of  her  protest.     But  such 
matters  of  history  do  not  bfelong  to  us, 
when  they  do  not  bear  a  close  relation  to 
the  warfare  of  the  pen.      Some   events 
there  were  which  have  had  a  remarkable 
influence  on  the  theological  literature  of 
France,  and  indirectly  of  the  rest  of  Eu- 
rope. 

2.  Louis  XIV.,  more  arrogant,  in  his 

earlier  life,  than  bigoted,  became 
LMas'xiv.  involved  in  a  contest  with  Inno- 
with  iniio-  cent  XL,  by  a  piece  of  his  usual 
cent  xi  despotism  and  contempt  of  his 
subjects'  rights.  He  extended  in  1673  the 
ancient  prerogative,  called  the  regale,  by 
which  the  king  enjoyed  the  revenues  of 
vacant  bishoprics,  to  all  the  kingdom, 
though  many  sees  had  been  legally  ex- 
empt from  it.  Two  bishops  appealed  to 
the  pope,  who  interfered  in  their  favour 
more  peremptorily  than  the  times  would 


permit.  Innocent,  it  is  but  just  to  say, 
was  maintaining  the  fair  rights  of  the 
Church  rather  than  any  claim  of  his  own. 
But  the  dispute  took  at  length  a  different 
form.  France  was  rich  in  prelates  of  emi- 
nent worth,  and  among  such,  as  is  evident, 
the  Cisalpine  theories  had  never  lain  dor- 
mant since  the  councils  of  Constance  and 
Basle.  Louis  convened  the  famous  as- 
sembly of  the  Gallican  clergy  in  1682. 
Bossuet,  who  is  said  to  have  felt  some 
apprehensions  lest  the  spirit  of  resistance 
should  become  one  of  rebellion,  was  ap- 
pointed to  open  this  assembly ;  and  his 
sermon  on  that  occasion  is  among  his 
most  splendid  works.  His  posture  was 
indeed  magnificent ;  he  stands  forward, 
not  so  much  the  minister  of  religion  as 
her  arbitrator;  we  see  him  poise  in  his 
hands  earth  and  heaven,  and  draw  that 
boundary-line  which  neither  was  to  trans- 
gress ;  he  speaks  the  language  of  reveren- 
tial love  towards  the  Mother-church,  that 
of  St.  Peter,  and  the  fairest  of  her  daugh- 
ters to  which  he  belongs,  conciliating  their 
transient  feud ;  yet  in  this  majestic  tone 
which  he  assumes,  no  arrogance  betrays 
itself,  no  thought  of  himself  as  one  en- 
dowed with  transcendant  influence ;  he 
speaks  for  the  Church,  and  yet  we  feel 
that  he  raises  himself  above  those  for 
whom  he  speaks.* 

3.  Bossuet  was  finally  intrusted  with 
drawing  up  the  four  articles,  Four  articles 
which  the  assembly,  rather  at  ofiesa. 
the  instigation,  perhaps,  of  Colbert  than  of 
its  own  accord,  promulgated  as  the  Galli- 
can Creed  on  the  limitations  of  papal 
authority.  These  declare  :  1.  That  kings 
are  subject  to  no  ecclesiastical  power  in 
temporals,  nor  can  be  deposed  directly  or 
indirectly  by  the  chiefs  of  the  Church  :  2. 
That  the  decrees  of  the  Council  of  Con- 
stance as  to  the  papal  authority  are  in  full 
force,  and  ought  to  be  observed :  3.  That 
this  authority  can  only  be  exerted  in  con- 
formity with  the  canons  received  in  the 
Gallican  Church :  4.  That,  though  the  pope 


*  This  sermon  will  be  found  in  (Euvres  de  Bo» 
suet,  vol.  ix. 


280 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


has  the  principal  share  in  determining 
controversies  of  faith,  and  his  decrees  ex- 
tend to  all  churches,  they  are  not  absolute- 
ly final,  unless  the  consent  of  the  Catholic 
Church  be  superadded.  It  appears  that 
some  bishops  would  have  willingly  used 
stronger  language,  but  Bossuet  foresaw 
the  risk  of  an  absolute  schism.  Even 
thus  the  Gallican  Church  approached  so 
nearly  to  it,  that,  the  pope  refusing  the 
usual  bulls  to  bishops  nominated  by  the 
king  according  to  the  concordat,  between 
thirty  and  forty  sees,  at  last,  were  left 
vacant.  No  reconciliation  was  effected 
till  1693,  in  the  pontificate  of  Innocent 
XII.  It  is  to  be  observed,  whether  the 
French  writers  slur  this  over  or  not,  that 
the  pope  gained  the  honours  of  war ;  the 
bishops  who  had  sat  in  the  assembly  of 
1682  writing  separately  letters  which 
have  the  appearance  of  regretting,  if  not 
retracting,  what  they  had  done.  These 
were,  however,  worded 'with  intentional 
equivocation ;  and,  as  the  court  of  Rome 
yields  to  none  in  suspecting  the  subter- 
fuges of  words,  it  is  plain  that  it  contented 
itself  with  an  exterior  humiliation  of  its 
adversaries.  The  old  question  of  the  re- 
gale was  tacitly  abandoned ;  Louis  en- 
joyed all  he  had  desired,  and  Rome  might 
justly  think  herself  not  bound  to  fight  for 
the  privileges  of  those  who  had  made  her 
so  bad  a  return.* 

5.  The  doctrine  of  the  four  articles 
Uupmonthe  gained  ground,  perhaps,  in  the 
ancient  dts-  Church  of  France  through  a 
cipime.  work  of  great  boldness,  and  de- 
riving authority  from  the  learning  and 
judgment  of  its  author,  Dupin.  In  the 
height  of  the  contest,  while  many  were 
considering  how  far  the  Gallican  Church 
might  dispense  with  the  institution  of 
bishops  at  Rome,  that  point  in  the  estab- 
lished system  which  evidently  secured  the 
victory  to  their  antagonist,  in  the  year 
1686,  he  published  a  treatise  on  the  ancient 
discipline  of  the  Church.  It  is  written  in 
Latin,  which  he  probably  chose  as  less 
obnoxious  than  his  own  language.  It  may 
be  true,  which  I  cannot  affirm  or  deny, 
that  each  position  in  this  work  had  been 
advanced  before  ;  but  the  general  tone 
seems  undoubtedly  more  adverse  to  the 
papal  supremacy  than  any  book  which 
could  have  come  from  a  man  of  reputed 
orthodoxy.  It  tends,  notwithstanding  a 


*  I  have  derived  most  of  this  account  from  Baus- 
set's  life  of  Bossuet,  vol.  ii.  Both  the  bishop  and 
his  biographer  shuffle  a  good  deal  about  the  letter 
of  the  Gallican  prelates  in  1693.  But  when  the 
Roman  legions  had  passed  under  the  yoke  at  the 
Caudine  forks,  they  were  ready  to  take  up  arms 
again. 


few  necessary  admissions,  to  represent 
almost  all  that  can  be  called  power  or 
jurisdiction  in  the  see  of  Rome  as  ac- 
quired, if  not  abusive,  and  would  leave,  in 
a  practical  sense,  no  real  pope  at  all ;  mere 
primacy  being  a  trifle,  and  even  the  right 
of  interfering  by  admonition  being  of  no 
great  value  when  there  was  no  definite 
obligation  to  obey.  The  principle  of  Dupin 
is,  that  the  Church  having  reached  her 
perfection  in  the  fourth  century,  we  should 
endeavour,  as  far  as  circumstances  will 
admit,  to  restore  the  discipline  of  that  age. 
But  even  in  the  Gallican  Church  it  has 
generally  been  held  that  he  has  urged  his 
arguments  farther  than  is  consistent  with 
a  necessary  subordination  to  Rome.* 

6.  In  the  same  year  Dupin  published  the 
first  volume  of  a  more  celebrated  Dupin.s  Ec. 
work,  his  Nouvelle  Bibliotheque  ciesiasticai 
des  Auteurs  Ecclesiastiques,  a  Llbrary- 
complete  history  of  theological  literature, 
at  least  within  the  limits  of  the  Church, 
which,  in  a  long  series  of  volumes,  he 
finally  brought  clown  to  the  close  of  the 
seventeenth  century.  It  is  unquestion- 
ably the  most  standard  work  of  that  kind 
extant,  whatever  deficiencies  may  have 
been  found  in  its  execution.  The  im- 
mense erudition  requisite  for  such  an 
undertaking  may  have  rendered  it  inevi- 
table to  take  some  things  at  second  hand, 
or  to  fall  into  some  errors ;  and  we  may 
add  other  causes  less  necessary,  the  youth 
of  the  writer  in  the  first  volumes,  and  the 
rapidity  with  which  they  appeared.  Integ- 
rity, love  of  truth,  and  moderation  distin- 
guish this  ecclesiastical  history,  perhaps, 
beyond  any  other.  Dupin  is  often  near 
the  frontier  of  orthodoxy ;  but  he  is  careful, 
even  in  the  eyes  of  jealous  Catholics,  not 
quite  to  overstep  it.  This  work  was  soon 
translated  into  English,  and  furnished  a 
large  part  of  such  knowledge  on  the  sub- 
ject as  our  own  divines  possessed.  His 
free  way  of  speaking,  however,  on  the 
Roman  supremacy  and  some  other  points, 
excited  the  animadversion  of  more  rigid 
persons,  and,  among  others,  of  Bossuet, 
who  stood  on  his  own  vantage-ground, 
ready  to  strike  on  every  side.  The  most 
impartial  critics  have  been  of  Dupin's 
mind ;  but  Bossuet,  like  all  dogmatic 
champions  of  orthodoxy,  never  sought 
truth  by  an  analytical  process  of  inves- 
tigation, assuming  his  own  possession  of 
it  as  an  axiom  in  the  controversy.! 


*  Bibliotheque  Universelle,  vi.,  109.  The  book 
is  very  clear,  concise,  and  learned,  so  that  it  is 
worth  reading  through  by  those  who  would  under- 
stand such  matters.  I  have  not  observed  that  it  is 
much  quoted  by  English  writers. 

t  Bibliotheque   Universelle,  iii.,  39;  vii.,  335; 


FROM  1650  TO  1700. 


281 


7.  Dupin  was  followed  a  few  years  af- 
Fieury's  EC-  terward  by  one  not  his  superior 
ciesmsticai     in  learning  and  candour  (though 
History.        deficient  in  neither),  but  in  skill 
of  narration  and  beauty  of  style,  Claude 
Fleury.     The  first  volume  of  his  Ecclesi- 
astical History  came  forth  in  1691 ;  but  a 
part  only  of  the  long  series  falls  within 
this  century.     The  learning  of  Fleury  has 
been  said  to  be  frequently  not  original ; 
and  his  prolixity  to  be  too  great  for  an  el- 
ementary historian.     The  former  is  only 
blameable  when  he  has  concealed  his  im- 
mediate authorities  ;  few  works  of  great 
magnitude  have  been  written  wholly  from 
the  prime  sources  ;  with  regard  to  his  dif- 
fuseness,  it  is  very  convenient  to  those 
who  want  access  to  the  original  writers, 
or  leisure  to  collate   them.     Fleury  has 
been  called  by  some  credulous  and  uncrit- 
ical ;  but  he  is  esteemed  faithful,  moder- 
ate, and  more  respectful  or  cautious  than 
Dupin.     Yet  many  of  his  volumes  are  a 
continual  protest  against  the  vices   and 
ambition  of  the  mediaeval  popes,  and  his 
Ecclesiastical  History  must  be  reckoned 
among  the  causes  of  that  estrangement,  in 
spirit  and  affection,  from  the  court  of  Rome 
which  leavens  the  literature  of  France  in 
the  eighteenth  century. 

8.  The  dissertations  of  Fleury,  inter- 
His  Oisser-  spersed  with  his  history,  were 
tations.       more  generally  read  and  more 
conspicuously    excellent.      Concise,    but 
neither  dry  nor  superficial ;  luminous,  yet 
appearing  simple ;  philosophical  without 
the  affectation  of  profundity,  seizing  all 
that  is  most  essential  in  their  subject  with- 
out the  tediousness  of  detail  or  the  ped- 
antry of  quotation;    written,  above  all, 
with  that  clearness,  that  ease,  that  unaf- 
fected purity  of  taste  which  belong  to  the 
French  style  of  that  best  age,  they  present 
a  contrast  not  only  to  the  inferior  writings 
on  philosophical  history  with  which  our 
age  abounds,  but,  in  some  respects,  even 
to  the  best.     It  cannot  be  a  crime  that 
these  dissertations  contain  a  good  deal 
which,  after  more  than  a  century's  labour 
in  historical  inquiry,  has  become  more  fa- 
miliar than  it  was. 

9.  The    French    Protestants,  notwith- 
Protestant    standing  their  disarmed  condi- 
comroversy  tion,  were  not,  I  apprehend,  much 
in  France,    oppressed  under  Richelieu  and 
Mazarin.     But,  soon  afterward,  an  eager- 


xxii ,  120.  Biogr.  Universelle.  CEuvres  de  Bos- 
suet,  vol.  xxx.  Dupin  seems  not  to  have  held  the 
superiority  of  hishops  to  priests  juredivino,  which 
nettles  our  man  of  Meaux.  Ces  grands  critiques 
sont  peu  favorables  aux  superiority  ecclesiastiques 
et  n'aiment  guere  plus  celles  des  eveques  que  celle 
du  pape,  p.  491. 
VOL.  II.— N  N 


ness  to  accelerate  what  was  taking  place 
through  natural  causes,  their  return  into 
;he  Church,  brought  on  a  series  of  harass- 
ng  edicts,  which  ended  in  the  revocation 
of  that  of  Nantes.  During  this  time  they 
were  assailed  by  less  terrible  weapons, 
yet  such  as  required  no  ordinary  strength 
;o  resist,  the  polemical  writings  of  the 
hree  greatest  men  in  the  Church  of 
France,  Nicole,  Arnauld,  and  Bossuet. 
The  two  former  were  desirous  to  efface 
he  reproaches  of  an  approximation  to 
Calvinism,  and  of  a  disobedience  to  the 
Catholic  Church,  under  which  their  Jan- 
senist  party  was  labouring.  Nicole  began 
with  a  small  treatise,  entitled  La  Perpe- 
uite  de  la  Foi  de  1'Englise  Catholique, 
touchant  1'Eucharistie,  in  1664.  This 
aimed  to  prove  that  the  tenet  of  tran- 
ubstantiation  had  been  constant  in  the 
Church.  Claude,  the  most  able  contrp- 
vertist  among  the  French  Protestants,  re- 
ilied  in  the  next  year.  This  led  to  a 
nuch  more  considerable  work  by  Nicole 
and  Arnauld  conjointly,  with  the  same 
itle  as  the  former ;  nor  was  Claude  slow 
in  combating  his  double-headed  adversary. 
Micole  is  said  to  have  written  the  greater 
Dortion  of  this  second  treatise,  though  it 
ommonly  bears  the  name  of  his  more 
illustrious  colleague.* 

10.  Both  Arnauld  and  Nicole  were 
clipsed  by  the  most  distinguish-  Bossuet.s  ex. 
d  and  successful  advocate  of  position  of 
the  Catholic  Church,  Bossuet.  l(£fthCatholic  ' 
His  Exposition  de  la  Foi  Catho- 
lique was  written  in  1668,  for  the  use  of 
two  brothers  of  the  Dangeau  family  ;  but, 
having  been  communicated  to  Turenne, 
the  most  eminent  Protestant  that  remain- 
ed in  France,  it  contributed  much  to  his 
conversion.  It  was  published  in  1671 ; 
and.  though  enlarged  from  the  first  sketch, 
does  not  exceed  eighty  pages  in  octavo. 
Nothing  can  be  more  precise,  more  clear, 
or  more  free  from  all  circuity  and  detail 
than  this  little  book  ;  everything  is  put  in 
the  most  specious  light ;  the  authority  of 
the  ancient  Church,  recognised  by  the  ma- 
jority of  Protestants,  is  alone  kept  in  sight. 
Bossuet  limits  himself  to  doctrines  estab- 
lished by  the  Council  of  Trent,  leaving  out 
of  the  discussion  not  only  all  questionable 
points,  but,  what  is  perhaps  less  fair,  all 
rites  and  usages,  however  general  or  sanc- 
tioned by  the  regular  discipline  of  the 
Church,  except  so  far  as  formally  appro- 
ved by  that  council.  Hence  he  glides  with 
a  transient  step  over  the  invocation  of 
saints  and  the  worship  of  images,  but 
presses  with  his  usual  dexterity  on  the 


*  Biogr.  Univ. 


282 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


inconsistencies  and  weak  concessions  of 
his  antagonists.  The  Calvinists,  or  some 
of  them,  had  employed  a  jargon  of  word 
about  real  presence,  which  he  exposes 
with  admirable  brevity  and  vigour.*  Nor 
does  he  gain  less  advantage  in  favour  of 
tradition  and  church  authority  from  the 
assumption  of  somewhat  similar  claims 
by  the  same  party.  It  has  often  been  al- 
leged that  the  Exposition  of  Bossuet  was 
not  well  received  by  many  on  his  own 
side.  And  for  this  there  seems  to  be 
some  foundation,  though  the  Protestant 
controvertists  have  made  too  much  of  the 
facts.  It  was  published  at  Rome  in  1678, 
and  approved  in  the  most  formal  manner 
by  Innocent  XI.  the  next  year.  But  it 
must  have  been,  perceived  to  separate  the 
faith  of  the  Church,  as  it  rested  on  dry 
propositions,  from  the  same  faith  living 
and  imbodied  in  the  every-day  worship  of 
the  people. f 

11.  Bossuet  was  now  the  acknowledged 
His  confer-  champion  of  the  Roman  Church 
ence  with  in  France  ;  Claude  was  in  equal 
ciaude.  pre-eminence  on  the  other  side. 
These  great  adversaries  had  a  regular 
conference  in  1678.  Mademoiselle  de 
Duras,  a  Protestant  lady,  like  most  oth- 
ers of  her  rank  at  that  time,  was  waver- 
ing about  religion,  and  in  her  presence  the 
dispute  was  carried  on.  It  entirely  turn- 
ed on  Church  authority.  The  arguments 
of  Bossuet  differ  only  from  those  which 
have  often  been  adduced  by  the  spirit  and 
conciseness  with  which  he  presses  them. 
We  have  his  own  account,  which,  of  course, 
gives  himself  the  victory.  It  was  almost 
as  much  of  course  that  the  lady  was  con- 
verted ;  for  it  is  seldom  that  a  woman  can 
withstand  the  popular  argument  on  that 
side,  when  she  has  once  gone  far  enough 
to  admit  the  possibility  of  its  truth  by 
giving  it  a  hearing.  Yet  Bossuet  deals  in 
sophisms  which,  though  always  in  the 
mouths  of  those  who  call  themselves  or- 
thodox, are  contemptible  to  such  as  know 
facts  as  well  as  logic.  "  I  urged,"  he 
says,  "  in  a  few  words,  what  presumption 

*  Bossuet  observes  that  most  other  controversies 
are  found  to  depend  more  on  words  than  substance, 
and  the  difference  becomes  less  the  more  they  are 
examined  ;  but  in  that  of  the  eucharist  the  contrary 
is  the  case,  since  the  Calvinists  endeavour  to  ac- 
commodate their  phraseology  to  the  Catholics, 
while  essentially  they  differ. — Vol.  xviii.,  p.  135. 

t  The  writings  of  Bossuet  against  the  Protest- 
ants occupy  nine  volumes,  xviii.-xxvi.,  in  the  great 
edition  of  his  works,  Versailles,  1816.  The  Ex- 
position de  la  Foi  is  in  the  eighteenth.  Bausset,  in 
his  life  of  Bossuet,  appears  to  have  refuted  the  ex- 
aggerations of  many  Protestants  as  to  the  ill  recep- 
tion of  this  little  book  at  Rome.  Yet  there  was  a 
certain  foundation  for  it. — See  Bibliothtque  Uiii- 
verselle,  vol.  xi.,  p.  455. 


it  was  to  believe  that  we  can  better  un- 
derstand the  word  of  God  than  all  the  rest 
of  the  Church,  and  that  nothing  would 
thus  prevent  there  being  as  many  reli- 
gions as  persons."*  But  there  can  be  no 
presumption  in  supposing  that  we  may 
understand  anything  better  than  one  who 
has  never  examined  it  at  all ;  and  if  this 
rest  of  the  Church,  so  magnificently 
brought  forward,  have  commonly  acted 
on  Bossuet's  principle,  and  thought  it  pre- 
sumptuous to  judge  for  themselves  ;  if, 
out  of  many  millions  of  persons,  a  few 
only  have  deliberately  reasoned  on  reli- 
gion, and  the  rest  have  been,  like  true 
zeros,  nothing  in  themselves,  but  much  in 
sequence  ;  if,  also,  as  is  most  frequently 
the  case,  this  presuinptuousness  is  not  the 
assertion  of  a  paradox  or  novelty,  but  the 
preference  of  one  denomination  of  Chris- 
tians, or  of  one  tenet  maintained  by  re- 
spectable authority  to  another,  we  can 
only  scorn  the  emptiness,  as  well  as  re- 
sent the  effrontery  of  this  commonplace 
that  rings  so  often  in  our  ears.  Certainly 
reason  is  so  far  from  condemning  a  defer- 
ence to  the  judgment  of  the  wise  and 
good,  that  nothing  is  more  irrational  than 
to  neglect  it ;  but  when  this  is  claimed  for 
those  whom  we  need  not  believe  to  have 
been  wiser  and  better  than  ourselves,  nay, 
sometimes  whom,  without  vainglory,  we 
may  esteem  less,  and  that  so  as  to  set 
aside  the  real  authority  of  the  most  philo- 
sophical, unbiased,  and  judicious  of  man- 
kind, it  is  not  pride  or  presumption,  but  a 
sober  use  of  our  faculties  that  rejects  the 
jurisdiction. 

12.  Bossuet  once  more  engaged  in  a 
similar  discussion  about  1691.  Correspon(j. 
Among  the  German  Lutherans  ence  with 
there  seems  to  have  been  for  a  L^lu'z  ^ 
long  time  a  lurking  notion  that 
on  some  terms  or  other  a  reconciliation 
with  the  Church  of  Rome  could  be  ef- 
fected ;  and  this  was  most  countenanced 
in  the  dominions  of  Brunswick,  and,  above 
all,  in  the  University  of  Helmstadt.  Leib- 
nitz himself  and  Molanus,  a  Lutheran  di- 
vine, were  the  negotiators  on  that  side 
with  Bossuet.  Their  treaty — for  such  it 
was  apparently  understood  to  be — Avas 
conducted  by  writing  ;  and  when  we  read 
their  papers  on  both  sides,  nothing  is  more 
remarkable  than  the  tone  of  superiority 
which  the  Catholic  plenipotentiary,  if  such 
he  could  be  deemed  without  powers  from 
any  one  but  himself,  has  thought  fit  to 
assume.  No  concession  is  offered,  no 
tenet  explained  away; -the  sacramental 
up  to  the  laity,  and  a  permission  to  the 


*  O3uvres  de  Bossuet,  xxiii.,  290. 


FROM  1650  TO  1700. 


Lutheran  clergy  already  married  to  retain 
their  wives  after  their  reordination,  is  all 
that  he  holds  forth  ;  and  in  this,  doubtless, 
he  could  have  had  no  authority  from  Rome. 
Bossuet  could  not  veil  his  haughty  coun- 
tenance ;  and  his  language  is  that  of  as- 
perity and  contemptuousness  instead  of 
moderation.  He  dictates  terms  of  sur- 
render as  to  a  besieged  city  when  the 
breach  is  already  practicable,  and  hardly 
deigns  to  show  his  clemency  by  granting 
the  smallest  favour  to  the  garrison.  It  is 
curious  to  see  the  strained  constructions, 
the  artifices  of  silence,  to  which  Molanus 
has  recourse,  in  order  to  make  out  some 
pretence  for  his  ignominious  surrender. 
Leibnitz,  with  whom  the  correspondence 
broke  off  in  1693,  and  was  renewed  again 
in  1699,  seems  not  quite  so  yielding  as  the 
other  ;  and  the  last  biographer  of  Bossuet 
suspects  that  the  German  philosopher  was 
insincere  or  tortuous  in  the  negotiation. 
If  this  were  so,  he  must  have  entered  upon 
it  less  of  his  own  accord  than  to  satisfy 
the  Princess  Sophia,  who,  like  many  of 
her  family,  had  been  a  little  wavering,  till 
our  act  of  settlement  became  a  true  set- 
tlement to  their  faith.  .  This  bias  of  the 
court  of  Hanover  is  intimated  in  several 
passages.  The  success  of  this  treaty  of 
union,  or,  rather,  of  subjection,  was  as 
little  to  be  expected  as  it  was  desirable  ; 
the  old  spirit  of  Lutheranism  was  much 
worn  out,  yet  there  must  surely  have  been 
a  determination  to  resist  so  unequal  a 
compromise.  Rome  negotiated  as  a  con- 
queror with  these  beaten  Carthaginians ; 
yet  no  one  had  beaten  them  but  them- 
selves.* 

13.  The  warfare  of  the  Roman  Church 


on  eitner  in  a  se- 

tionsof  ries  of  conflicts  on  the  various 
Protestant  doctrines  wherein  the  reformers 
hes'  separated  from  her,  or  by  one 
pitched  battle  on  the  main  question  of  a 
conclusive  authority  somewhere  in  the 
Church.  Bossuet's  temper,  as  well  as  his 
inferiority  in  original  learning,  led  him,  in 
preference,  to  the  latter  scheme  of  theo- 
logical strategy.  It  was  also  manifestly 
that  course  of  argument  which  was  most 
likely  to  persuade  the  unlearned.  He  fol- 
lowed up  the  blow  which  he  had  already 
struck  against  Claude  in  his  famous  work 
on  the  Variations  of  Protestant  Churches. 
Never  did  his  genius  find  a  subject  more 
fit  to  display  its  characteristic  impetuosi- 
ty, its  arrogance,  or  its  cutting  and  merci- 
less spirit  of  sarcasm.  The  weaknesses, 
the  inconsistent  evasions,  the  extrava- 
gances of  Luther,  Zuingle,  Calvin,  and 

*  CEuvres  de  Bossuet,  vols.  xxv.  and  xxvL 


Beza  pass,  one  after  another,  before  us, 
till  these  great  reformers  seem,  like  vic- 
tim prisoners,  to  be  hewn  down  by  the 
indignant  prophet.  That  Bossuet  is  can- 
did in  statement,  or  even  faithful  in  quo- 
tation, I  should  much  doubt ;  he  gives 
the  words  of  his  adversaries  in  his  own 
French,  and  the  references  are  not  made 
to  any  specified  edition  of  their  volumi- 
nous writings.  The  main  point,  as  he 
contends  it  to  be,  that  the  Protestant 
churches  (for  he  does  not  confine  this  to 
persons)  fluctuated  much  in  the  sixteenth 
century,  is  sufficiently  proved ;  but  it  re- 
mained to  show  that  this  was  a  reproach. 
Those  who  have  taken  a  different  view 
from  Bossuet  may  perhaps  think  that  a 
little  more  of  this  censure  would  have 
been  well  incurred ;  that  they  have  va- 
ried too  little  rather  than  too  much ;  and 
that  it  is  far  more  difficult,  even  in  con- 
troversy with  the  Church  of  Rome,  to 
withstand  the  inference  which  their  long 
creeds  and  confessions,  as  well  as  the 
language  too  common  with  their  theolo- 
gians, have  furnished  to  her  more  ancient 
and  catholic  claim  of  infallibility,  than  to 
vindicate  those  successive  variations  which 
are  analogous  to  the  necessary  course  of 
human  reason  on  all  other  subjects.  The 
essential  fallacy  of  Romanism,  that  truth 
must  ever  exist  visibly  on  earth,  is  im- 
plied in  the  whole  strain  of  Bossuet's  at- 
tack on  the  variances  of  Protestantism  : 
it  is  evident  that  variance  of  opinion 
proves  error  somewhere  ;  but,  unless  it 
can  be  shown  that  we  have  any  certain 
method  of  excluding  it,  this  should  only 
lead  us  to  be  more  indulgent  towards  the 
judgment  of  others,  and  less  confident  of 
our  own.  The  notion  of  an  intrinsic  mor- 
al criminality  in  religious  error  is  at  the 
root  of  the  whole  argument ;  and,  till 
Protestants  are  well  rid  of  this,  there 
seems  no  secure  mode  of  withstanding 
the  effect  which  the  vast  weight  of  au- 
thority asserted  by  the  Latin  Church,  even 
where  it  has  not  the  aid  of  the  Eastern, 
must  produce  on  timid  and  scrupulous 
minds. 

14.  In  no  period  has  the  Anglican  Church 
stood  up  so  powerfully  in  defence  An^ican 
of  the  Protestant  cause  as  in  that  wruingi 
before  us.  From  the  era  of  the  5s;iijist 
restoration  to  the  close  of  the  cen- 
tury the  war  was  unremitting  and  vigor- 
ous. And  it  is  particularly  to  be  remark- 
ed, that  the  principal  champions  of  the 
Church  of  England  threw  off  that  ambigu- 
ous syncretism  which  had  displayed  itself 
under  the  first  Stuarts,  and,  comparatively 
at  least  witli  their  immediate  predeces- 
sors, avoided  every  admission  which  might 


284 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


facilitate  a  deceitful  compromise.  We  can 
only  mention  a  few  of  the  writers  who 
signalized  themselves  in  this  controversy. 

15.  Taylor's  Dissuasive   from  Popery 
Taylor's      was  published  in  1664  ;  and  in 
Dissuasive,  this,  his  latest  work,  we  find  the 
same  general  strain  of  Protestant  reason- 
ing, the  same  rejection  of  all  but  scriptu- 
ral authority,  the  same  free  exposure  of 
the  inconsistencies  and  fallacies  of  tradi- 
tion, the  same  tendency  to  excite  a  skep- 
tical feeling  as  to  all  except  the  primary 
doctrines  of  religion,  which  had  charac- 
terized the  Liberty  of  Prophesying.   These 
are   mixed,  indeed,  in  Taylor's   manner, 
with  a  few  passages  (they  are,  I  think,  but 
few),  which,  singly  taken,  might  seem  to 
breathe  not  quite  this  spirit ;  but  the  tide 
flows  for  the  most  part  the  same  way,  and 
it  is  evident  that  his  mind  had  undergone 
no  change.      The  learning  in  all  his  wri- 
tings is  profuse  ;  but  Taylor  never  leaves 
me  with  the  impression  that  he  is  exact 
and  scrupulous  in  its  application.     In  one 
part  of  this  Dissuasive  from  Popery,  hav- 
ing been  reproached  with  some  inconsist- 
ency, he  has  no  scruple  to  avow  that,  in 
a  former  work,  he  had  employed  weak  ar- 
guments for  a  laudable  purpose.* 

16.  Barrow,  not  so  extensively  learned 
Barrow.  as  Taylor,  who  had  read  rather  too 
Stilling-  much,  but  inferior,  perhaps,  even  in 
fleet-      that  respect  to  hardly  any  one  else, 
and  above  him  in  closeness  and  strength 
of  reasoning,  combated  against  Rome  in 
many  of  his  sermons,  and  especially  in  a 
long  treatise  on  papal  supremacy.     Stil- 
lingfleet  followed,  a  man  deeply  versed  in 
ecclesiastical  antiquity,  of  an  argumenta- 
tive mind,  excellently  fitted  for  polemical 
dispute,  but  perhaps,  by  those  habits  of  his 
life,  rendered  too  much  of  an  advocate  to 
satisfy  an  impartial  reader.     In  the  criti- 
cal reign  of  James  II.  he  may  be  consid- 
ered as  the  leader  on  the  Protestant  side  ; 
but  Wake,  Tillotson,  and  several  more 
would  deserve  mention  in  a  fuller  history 
of  ecclesiastical  literature. 

17.  The  controversies  always  smoulder- 

ing in  the  Church  of  Rome,  and 
s'  sometimes  breaking  into  flame,  to 
which  the  Anti-Pelagian  writings  of  Au- 
gustin  had  originally  given  birth,  have 
been  slightly  touched  in  our  former  vol- 
ume. It  has  been  seen  that  the  rigidly 
predestinarian  theories  had  been  con- 
demned by  the  court  of  Rome  in  Baius ; 
that  the  opposite  doctrine  of  Molina  had 
narrowly  escaped  censure ;  that  it  was 


*  Taylor's  Works,  x.,  304.  This  is  not  surpri- 
sing, as  in  his  Ductor  Dubitantium,  xi.,  484,  he  main- 
tains the  right  of  using  arguments  and  authorities 
in  controversy,  which  we  do  not  believe  to  be  valid. 


safest  to  abstain  from  any  language  not 
verbally  that  of  the  Church,  or  of  Augus- 
tin,  whom  the  Church  held  incontroverti- 
ble. But  now  a  more  serious  and  cele- 
brated controversy,  that  of  the  Jansenists, 
pierced,  as  it  were,  to  the  heart  of  the 
Church.  It  arose  before  the  middle  of  the 
century.  Jansenius,  bishop  of  Ypres,  in 
his  Augustinus,  published,  after  his  death, 
in  1640,  gave,  as  he  professed,  a  faithful 
statement  of  the  tenets  of  that  father. 
"  We  do  not  inquire,"  he  says,  "  what  men 
ought  to  believe  on  the  powers  of  human 
nature,  or  on  the  grace  and  predestination 
of  God,  but  what  Augustin  once  preached 
with  the  approbation  of  the  Church,  and 
has  consigned  to  writing  in  many  of  his 
works."  This  book  is  in  three  parts  ;  the 
first  containing  a  history  of  the  Pelagian 
controversy,  the  second  and  third  an  ex- 
position of  the  tenets  of  Augustin.  Jan- 
senius does  not,  however,  confine  himself 
so  much  to  mere  analysis,  but  that  he  at- 
tacks the  Jesuits  Lessius  and  Molina,  and 
even  reflects  on  the  bull  of  Pius  V.  con- 
demning Baius,  which  he  cannot  wholly 
approve.* 

18.  Richelieu,  who  is  said  to  have  re- 
tained  some  animosity  against  „, 

-r  •  ,    -f     °,        ,     Condemna- 

Jansemus  on  account  of  a  book  tionofhis 
called  Mars  Gallicus,  which  he  Augustinua 
had  written  on  the  side  of  his  in  France' 
sovereign,  the  King  of  Spain,  designed  to 
obtain  the  condemnation  of  the  Augustinus 
by  the  French  clergy.  The  Jesuits,  there- 
fore, had  gained  ground  so  far  that  the 
doctrines  of  Augustin  were  out  of  fash- 
ion, though  few  besides  themselves  ven- 
tured to  reject  his  nominal  authority.  It 
is  certainly  clear  that  Jansenius  offended 
the  greater  part  of  the  Church.  But  he 
had  some  powerful  advocates,  and  espe- 
cially Antony  Arnauld,  the  most  renown- 
ed of  a  family  long  conspicuous  for  elo- 
quence, for  piety,  and  for  opposition  to 
the  Jesuits.  In  1649,  after  several  years 
of  obscure  dispute,  Cornet,  syndic  of  the 


*  A  very  copious  history  of  Jansenism,  taking  it 
up  from  the  Council  of  Trent,  will  he  found  in  the 
fourteenth  volume  of  the  Bibliotheque  Universelle, 
p.  139-398  ;  from  which  Mosheim  has  derived  most 
of  what  we  read  in  his  Ecclesiastical  History.  And 
the  History  of  Port-Royal  was  written  by  Racine 
in  so  perspicuous  and  neat  a  style,  that,  though  we 
may  hardly  think  with  Olivet  that  it  places  him  as 
high  in  prose-writing  as  his  tragedies  do  in  verse,  it 
entitles  him  to  rank  in  the  list,  not  a  very  long  one, 
of  those  who  have  succeeded  in  both.  Is  it  not 
probable  that  in  some  scenes  of  Athalie  he  had 
Port  Royal  before  his  eyes?  The  history  and 
the  tragedy  were  written  about  the  same  time. 
Racine,  it  is  rather  remarkable,  had  entered  the 
field  against  Nicole  in  1666,  chiefly,  indeed,  to  de- 
fend theatrical  representations,  but  not  without 
many  sarcasms  against  Jansenism. 


FROM  1050  TO  1700. 


285 


faculty  of  Theology  in  the  University  of 
Paris,  brought  forward  for  censure  seven 
propositions,  five  of  which  became  after- 
ward so  famous,  without  saying  that  they 
were  found  in  the  work  of  Jansenius. 
The  faculty  condemned  them,  though  it 
had  never  been  reckoned  favourable  to 
the  Jesuits ;  a  presumption  that  they  were, 
at  least,  expressed  in  a  manner  repugnant 
to  the  prevalent  doctrine.  Yet  Le  Clerc, 
to  whose  excellent  account  of  this  contro- 
versy in  the  fourteenth  volume  of  the  Bib- 
liotheque  Universelle  we  are  chiefly  in- 
debted, declares  his  own  opinion  that  there 
may  be  some  ambiguity  in  the  style  of  the 
first,  but  that  the  other  four  arc  decidedly 
conformable  to  the  theology  of  Augustin. 

19.  The  Jesuits  now  took  the  course 
and  at  of  calling  in  the  authority  of  Rome. 
Home.  They  pressed  Innocent  X.  to  con- 
demn the  five   propositions  which  were 
maintained   by  some  doctors  in  France. 
It  is  not  the  policy  of  that  court  to  com- 
promise so  delicate  a  possession  as  infalli- 
bility by  bringing  it  to  the  test  of  that  per- 
sonal judgment  which  is,  of  necessity,  the 
arbiter  of  each  man's  own  obedience.    The 
popes  have,  in  fact,  rarely  taken  a  part, 
independently  of  councils,  in  these  school 
debates.     The  bull  of  Pius  V.,  a  man  too 
zealous  by  character  to  regard  prudence, 
in  which  he  condemned  many  tenets  of 
Baius,  had  not,  nor  could  it  give  satisfac- 
tion to  those  who  saw  with  their  own  eyes 
that  it  swerved  from  the  Augustinian  the- 
ory.    Innocent  was,  at  first,  unwilling  to 
meddle  with  a  subject  which,  as  he  owned 
to  a  friend,  he  did  not  understand.     But, 
after  hearing  some  discussions,  he  grew 
more  confident  of  his  knowledge,  which 
he  ascribed,  as  in  duty  bound,  to  the  in- 
spiration of  the  Holy  Ghost,  and  went  so 
heartily  along  with  the  Anti-Jansenists, 
that  he  refused  to  hear  the  deputies  of  the 
other  party.     On  the  31st  of  May,  1653, 
he  condemned  the  five  propositions,  four 
as  erroneous,  and  the  fifth  in  stronger  lan- 
guage ;  declaring,  however,  not  in  the  bull, 
but  orally,  that  he  did  not  condemn  the 
tenet  of  efficacious  grace  (which  all  the 
Dominicans  held),  nor   the   doctrine  of 
Saint    Augustin,   which    was,   and    ever 
would  be,  that  of  the  Church. 

20.  The  Jansenists  were  not  bold  enough 

The  Janse-   to  llint  that  the7  did  llot  acknowl- 

nists  take  a  edge  the  infallibility  of  the  pope 
distinction;  jn  an  express  and  positive  dec- 
laration. Even  if  they  had  done  so,  they 
had  an  evident  recognition  of  this  censure 
of  the  five  propositions  by  their  own 
Church,  and  might  dread  its  being  so  gen- 
erally received  as  to  give  the  sanction 
which  no  Catholic  can  withstand.  They 


had  recourse,  unfortunately,  to  a  subter- 
fuge which  put  them  in  the  wrong.  They 
admitted  that  the  propositions  were  false, 
but  denied  that  they  could  be  found  in  the 
book  of  Jansenius.  Thus  each  party  was 
at  issue  on  a  matter  of  fact,  and  each  er- 
roneously, according,  at  least,  to  the  judg- 
ment of  the  most  learned  and  impartial 
Protestants.  The  five  propositions  ex- 
press the  doctrine  of  Augustin  himself; 
and,  if  they  do  this,  we  can  hardly  doubt 
that  they  express  that  of  Jansenius.  In 
a  short  time  this  ground  of  evasion  was 
taken  from  their  party.  An  assembly  of 
French  prelates  in  the  first  place,  and  af- 
terward Alexander  VII.,  successor  of  In- 
nocent X.,  condemned  the  propositions 
as  in  Jansenius,  and  in  the  sense  intended 
by  Jansenius. 

21.  The  Jansenists  were  now  driven  to 
the  wall:  the  Sorbonne,  in  1G55,  and  are  per 
in  consequence  of  some  propo-  seemed 
sitions  of  Arnauld,  expelled  him  from  the 
theological  faculty ;  a  formulary  was 
drawn  up  to  be  signed  by  the  clergy,  con- 
demning the  propositions  of  Jansenius, 
which  was  finally  established  in  1601 ; 
and  those  who  refused,  even  nuns,  under- 
went a  harassing  persecution.  The  most 
striking  instance  of  this,  which  still  retains 
an  historical  character,  was  the  dissolution 
of  the  famous  convent  of  Port-Royal,  over 
which  Angelica  Arnauld,  sister  of  the  great 
advocate  of  Jansenism,  had  long  presided 
with  signal  reputation.  This  nunnery  was 
at  Paris,  having  been  removed  in  1644 
from  an  ancient  Cistertian  convent  of  the 
same  name,  about  six  leagues  distant, 
and  called,  for  distinction,  Port-Royal  des 
Champs.  To  this  now  unfrequented 
building  some  of  the  most  eminent  men, 
repaired  for  study,  whose  writings,  being 
anonymously  published,  have  been  usual- 
ly known  by  the  name  of  their  residence. 
Arnauld,  Pascal,  Nicole,  'Lancelot,  De 
Sacy,  are  among  the  Messieurs  de  Port- 
Royal,  an  appellation  so  glorious  in  the 
seventeenth  century.  The  Jansenists 
now  took  a  distinction,  very  reasonable, 
as  it  seems,  in  its  nature,  between  the  au- 
thority which  asserts  or  denies  a  proposi- 
tion, and  that  which  does  the  like  as  to  a 
fact.  They  refused  to  the  pope,  that  is, 
in  this  instance,  to  the  Church,  the  latter 
infallibility.  We  cannot  prosecute  this 
part  of  ecclesiastical  history  farther;  if 
writings  of  any  literary  importance  had 
been  produced  by  the  controversy;  they 
would  demand  our  attention ;  but  this  does 
not  appear  to  have  been  the  case.  The 
controversy  between  Arnauld  and  Male- 
branche  may  perhaps  be  an  exception. 
The  latter,  carried  forward  by  his  original 


286 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


genius,  attempted  to  deal  with  the  doc- 
trines of  theology  as  with  metaphysical 
problems,  in  his  Traite  de  la  Nature  et  de 
la  Grace.  Arnauld  animadverted  on  this 
in  his  Reflexions  Philosophiques  et  Theo- 
logiques.  Malebranche  replied  in  Lettres 
du  Pere  Malebranche  a  un  de  ses  Amis. 
This  was  published  in  1686,  and  the  con- 
troversy between  such  eminent  masters 
of  abstruse  reasoning  began  to  excite  at- 
tention. Malebranche  seems  to  have  re- 
tired first  from  the  field.  His  antagonist 
had  great  advantages  in  the  dispute,  ac- 
cording to  received  systems  of  theology, 
with  which  he  was  much  more  conver- 
sant, and  perhaps,  on  the  whole,  in  the 
philosophical  part  of  the  question.  This, 
however,  cannot  be  reckoned  entirely  a 
Jansenistic  controversy,  though  it  involv- 
ed those  perilous  difficulties  which  had 
raised  that  flame.* 

22.  The  credit  of  Augustin  was  now  as 
Progress  of  much  shaken  in -the  Protestant 
Arminian-     as  in  the  Catholic  regions   of 
ls'o.  Europe.     Episcopius  had  given 
to   the    Remonstrant   party  a  reputation 
which  no  sect  so  inconsiderable  in  its  sep- 
arate character  has  ever  possessed.     The 
Dutch  Arminians  were  at  no  time  numer- 
ous ;   they  tof>k  no  hold  of  the  people ; 
they  had  few  churches,  and,  though  not 
persecuted  by  the  lenient  policy  of  Hol- 
land, were  still  under  the  ban  of  an  ortho- 
dox clergy,  as  exclusive  and  bigoted  as 
before.     But  their  writings  circulated  over 
Europe,  and  made  a  silent  impression  on 
the  adverse  party.     It  became  less  usual 
to  bring  forward  the  Augustinian  hypothe- 
sis in  prominent  or  unequivocal  language. 

Courcelles,  born  at  Geneva,  and 
Ics*  the  successor  of  Episcopius  in 
the  Remonstrant  congregation  at  Amster- 
dam, with  less  genius  than  his  predeces- 
sor, had  perhaps  a  more  extensive  knowl- 
edge of  ecclesiastical  antiquity.  His  works 
were  much  in  esteem  with  the  theologians 
of  that  way  of  thinking  ;  but  they  have  not 
fallen  in  my  way. 

23.  Limborch,  great-nephew  of  Episco- 

pius,  seems  more  than  any  other 
''  Arminian  divine  to  have  inherited 
his  mantle.  His  most  important  work  is 
the  Theologia  Christiana,  containing  a 
system  of  divinity  and  morals,  in  seven 
books  and  more  than  nine  hundred  pages, 
published  in  1686.  It  is  the  fullest  de- 
lineation of  the  Arminian  scheme  ;  but  as 
the  Arminians  were  by  their  principle  free 
inquirers,  and  not,  like  other  churches, 


*  An  account  of  this  controversy  will  be  found 
at  length  in  the  second  volume  of  the  Bibliotheque 
Universelle. 


bondsmen  of  symbolical  formularies,  no 
one  book  can  strictly  be  taken  as  their 
representative.  The  tenets  of  Limborch 
are,  in  the  majority  of  disputable  points, 
such  as  impartial  men  have  generally 
found  in  the  primitive  or  Ante-Nicene  fa- 
thers ;  but  in  some  he  probably  deviates 
from  them,  steering  far  away  from  all  that 
the  Protestants  of  the  Swiss  reform  had 
abandoned  as  superstitious  or  unintelligi- 
ble. 

24.  John  Le  Clerc,  in  the  same  relation- 
ship to  Courcelles  that  Limborch  Le  Clerc 
was  to  Episcopius,  and,  like  him, 
transplanted  from  Geneva  to  the  more  lib- 
eral air,  at  that  time,  of  the  United  Prov- 
inces, claims  a  high  place  among  the  Dutch 
Arminians;  for,  though  he  did  not  main- 
tain their  cause  either  in  systematic  or  po- 
lemical writings,  his  commentary  on  the 
Old  Testament,  and,  still  more,  his  excel- 
lent  and  celebrated  reviews,  the  Biblio- 
theques    Universelle,    Choisie,    and    An- 
cienne  et  Modeme,  must  be  reckoned  a 
perpetual  combat  on  that   side.     These 
journals  enjoyed  an  extraordinary  influ- 
ence over  Europe,  and  deserved  to  enjoy 
it.     Le  Clerc  is  generally  temperate,  judi- 
cious, appeals  to  no  passion,  displays  a 
very  extensive,  though  not,  perhaps,   a 
very  deep  erudition,  lies  in  wait  for  the 
weakness   and  temerity  of  those  he  re- 
views, thus  sometimes  gaining  the  advan- 
tage over  more  learned  men  than  himself. 
He  would  have  been  a  perfect  master  of 
that  sort  of  criticism,  then  newly  current 
in  literature,  if  he  could  have  repressed  an 
irritability  in  matters  personal  to  himself, 
and  a  degree  of  prejudice  against  the  Ro- 
mish writers,  or  perhaps  those  styled  or- 
thodox in  general,  which  sometimes  dis- 
turbs the  phlegmatic  steadiness  with  which 
a  good  reviewer,  like  a  practised  sports- 
man, brings  down  his  game.* 

25.  The  most  remarkable  progress  made 


*  Bishop  Monk  observes,  that  Le  Clerc  "  seems 
to  have  been  the  first  person  who  understood  the 
power  which  may  be  exercised  over  literature  by  a 
reviewer." — Life  of  Bentley,  p.  209.  This  may  be 
true,  especially  as  he  was  nearly  the  first  reviewer, 
and  certainly  better  than  his  predecessors.  But 
this  remark  is  followed  by  a  sarcastic  animadver- 
sion upon  Le  Clerc's  ignorance  of  Greek  metres, 
and  by  the  severe  assertion  that,  "  by  an  absolute 
system  of  terror,  he  made  himself  a  despot  in  the 
republic  of  letters."  The  former  is  so  far  true,  that 
he  neither  understood  the  Greek  metres  as  well  as 
Bentley  and  Porson,  or  those  who  have  trod  in  their 
steps,  nor  supposed  that  all  learning  was  concen- 
trated in  that  knowledge,  as  we  seemed  in  danger 
of  supposing  within  my  memory  The  latter  is  not 
warranted  by  the  general  character  of  Le  Clerc's 
criticisms,  which,  where  he  has  no  personal  quar- 
rel, is  temperate  and  moderate,  neither  traducing 
men  nor  imputing  motives ;  and,  consequently,  un- 
like certain  periodical  criticism  of  a  later  date. 


FROM  1050  TO  1700. 


287 


san;ro(Vs   by  the  Arminian  theology  was  in 
Fur  Prae-    England.     This  had  begun  under 

destinatus.  .    but    jt    was 


then  taken  up  in  conjunction  with  that  pa- 
tristic learning,  which  adopted  the  fourth 
and  fifth  centuries  as  the  standard  of  or- 
thodox faith.  Perhaps  the  first  very  bold 
and  unambiguous  attack  on  the  Calvinis- 
tic  system  which  we  shall  mention 
from  this  quarter.  This  was  an  anony- 
mous Latin  pamphlet,  entitled  Fur  Proe- 
destinatus,  published  in  1651,  and  gener- 
ally ascribed  to  Bancroft,  at  that  time  a 
young  man.  It  is  a  dialogue  between  a 
thief  under  sentence  of  death  and  his  at- 
tendant minister,  wherein  the  former  in- 
sists upon  his  assurance  of  being  predes- 
tinated to  salvation.  In  this  idea  there  is 
nothing  but  what  is  sufficiently  obvious  ; 
but  the  dialogue  is  conducted  with  some 
spirit  and  vivacity.  Every  position  in  the 
thief's  mouth  is  taken  from  eminent  Cal- 
vinistic  writers  ;  and  what  is  chiefly  worth 
notice  is,  that  Sancroft.  for  the  first  time, 
has  ventured  to  arraign  the  greatest  heroes 
of  the  Reformation  ;  not  only  Calvin,  Beza, 
and  Zanchius,  but,  who  had  been  hitherto 
spared,  Luther  and  Zuingle.  It  was  in 
the  nature  of  a  manifesto  from  the  Armin- 
ian party,  that  they  would  not  defer  in  fu- 
ture to  any  modern  authority.* 

26.  The  loyal  Anglican  clergy,  suffer- 
Arminianism  ing  persecution  at  the  hands  of 
in  England.  Calvinistic  sectaries,  might  be 
naturally  expected  to  cherish  the  opposite 
principles.  These  are  manifest  in  the 
sermons  of  Barrow,  rather,  perhaps,  by 
his  silence  than  his  tone,  and  more  ex- 
plicitly in  those  of  South.  But  many  ex- 
ceptions might  be  found  among  leading 
men,  such  as  Sanderson  ;  while  in  au  op- 
posite quarter,  among  the  younger  gener- 
ation who  had  conformed  to  the  times. 
arose  a  more  formidable  spirit  of  Armin- 
ianism,  which  changed  the  face  of  the 
English  Church.  This  was  displayed 
among  those  who,  just  about  the  epoch 
of  the  Restoration,  were  denominated 
Latitude-men,  or,  more  commonly,  Lati- 
tudinarians,  trained  in  the  principles  of 
Episcopius  and  Chillingworth,  strongly 
averse  to  every  compromise  with  popery, 
and  thus  distinguished  from  the  High 
Church  party,  learned  rather  in  profane 
philosophy  than  in  the  fathers,  more  full 
of  Plato  and  Plotinus  than  Jerome  or 
Chrysostom,  great  maintainers  of  natural 
religion  and  of  the  eternal  laws  of  mo- 
rality, not  very  solicitous  about  systems 


came^fleet 


*  The  Fur  Praedestinatus  is  reprinted  in  D'Oy- 
ly's  Life  of  Sancroft.  It  is  much  the  best  proof  of 
ability  that  the  worthy  archbishop  ever  gave. 


of  orthodoxy,  and  limiting,  very  consider- 
ably beyond  the  notions  of  former  ages, 
the  fundamental  tenets  of  Christianity. 
This  is  given  as  a  general  character,  bin 
varying  in  the  degree  of  its  application  to 
particular  persons.  Burnet  enumerates 
as  the  chief  of  this  body  of  men,  More, 
Cudworth,  Whichcot,  Tillotson,  Stilling- 
fleet ;  some,  especially  the  last,  more  te- 
nacious of  the  authority  of  the  fathers 
and  of  the  Church  than  others,  but  all 
concurring  in  the  adoption  of  an  Arminian 
theology.*  This  became  so  predominant 
before  the  revolution,  that  few  English  di- 
vines of  eminence  remained,  who  so  much 
as  endeavoured  to  steer  a  middle  course, 
or  to  dissemble  their  renunciation  of  the 
doctrines  which  had  been  sanctioned  at 
the  Synod  of  Dort  by  the  delegates  of 
their  church.  "  The  Theological  Institu- 
tions of  Episcopius,"  says  a  contemporary 
writer,  "were  at  that  time  (1685)  gener- 
ally in  the  hands  of  our  students  of  divin- 
ity in  both  universities,  as  the  best  system 
of  divinity. that  had  appeared."!  And  he 
proceeds  afterward  :  '•  The  Remonstrant 
writers,  among  whom  there  were  men  of 
excellent  learning  and  parts,  had  now  ac- 
quired a  considerable  reputation  in  our 
universities  by  the  means  of  some  great 
men  among  us."  This  testimony  seems 
irresistible  ;  and  as,  one  hundred  years 
before,  the  Institutes  of  Calvin  were  read 
in  the  same  academical  studies,  we  must 
own,  unless  Calvin  and  Episcopius  shall 
be  maintained  to  have  held  the  same  ten- 
ets, that  Bossuet  might  have  added  a 
chapter  to  the  Variations  of  Protestant 
Churches. 

27.  The  methods  adopted  in  order  to 
subvert  the  Augustinian  theology  Bull's  Bar- 
were  sometimes  direct,  by  expli-  mania 
cit  controversy,  or  by  an  oppo-  AP°stolica- 
site  train  of  scriptural  interpretation  in 
regular  commentaries  ;  more  frequently, 
perhaps,  indirect,  by  inculcating  moral  du- 
ties, and  especially  by  magnifying  the  law 
of  nature.  Among  the  first  class,  the 
Harmonia  Apostolica  of  Bull  seems  to  be 
reckoned  the  principal  work  of  this  period. 
It  was  published  in  1669,  and  was  fiercely 
encountered  at  first,  not  merely  by  the 
Presbyterian  party,  but  by  many  of  the 
Church,  the  Lutheran  tenets  as  to  justifi- 
cation by  faith  being  still  deemed  ortho- 
dox. Bull  establishes  as  the  groundwork 
of  his  harmony  between  the  apostles  Paul 


*  Biimet's  History  of  His  Own  Times,  i..  187. 
Account  of  the  new  sect  called  Latiludinarians,  in 
the  collection  of  tracts  entitled  Phoenix,  vol.  ii., 
p.  499. 

t  Nelson's  Life  of  Bull,  in  Bull's  Works,  vol. 
viii.,  p.  257. 


288 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


and  James  on  a  subject  where  their  lan- 
guage apparently  clashes  in  terms,  that 
we  are  to  interpret  St.  Paul  by  St.  James, 
and  not  St.  James  by  St.  Paul,  because 
the  latest  authority,  and  that  which  may 
be  presumed  to  have  explained  what  was 
obscure  in  the  former,  ought  to  prevail  ;* 
a  rule  doubtless  applicable  in  many  cases, 
whatever  it  may  be  in  this.  It  is  at 
turned  to  his  advantage  ;  but  it  was  not 
so  easy  for  him  to  reconcile  his  opinions 
with  those  of  the  reformers,  or  with  the 
Anglican  articles. 

28.  The  Paraphrase  and  Annotations  of 
Hammond.   Hammond  on  the  New  Testa- 
Locke,         ment  gave  a  different  colour  to 
wukins.      the    Epistles  Of   St   Paul   from 

that  which  they  display  in  the  hands  of 
Beza  and  the  other  theologians  of  the  six- 
teenth century.  And  the  name  of  Ham- 
mond stood  so  high  with  the  Anglican 
clergy,  that  he  naturally  turned  the  tide 
of  interpretation  his  own  way.  The  wri- 
tings of  Fowler,  Wilkins,  and  Whichcot 
are  chiefly  intended  to  exhibit-  the  moral 
lustre  of  Christianity,  and  to  magnify  the 
importance  of  virtuous  life;  The  first  of 
these  ventured  on  an  express  defence  of 
Latitudinarianism  ;  but,  in  general,  those 
to  whom  their  adversaries  gave  that  name 
declined  the  invidious  prejudices  which 
they  knew  to  be  associated  with  it.  Wil- 
kins left  an  unfinished  work  on  tlie  Prin- 
ciples and  Duties  of  Natural  Religion. 
Twelve  chapters  only,  about  half  the  vol- 
ume, were  ready  for  the  press  at  his 
death ;  the  rest  was  compiled  by  Tillot- 
son  as  well  as  the  materials  left  by  the 
author  would  allow  ;  and  the  expressions 
employed  lead  us  to  believe  that  much 
was  due  to  the  editor.  The  latter's  pref- 
ace strongly  presses  the  separate  obliga- 
tion of  natural  religion,  upon  which  both 
the  disciples  of  Hobbes,  and  many  of  the 
less  learned  sectaries,  were  at  issue  with 
him. 

29.  We  do  not  find  much  of  importance 
Socinians  in  written  on  the  Trinitarian  con- 
Engiand.       troversy  before  the  middle  of 
the   seventeenth  century,  except  by  the 
Socinians  themselves.     But  the  case  was 
now  very  different.     Though  the  Polish, 
or,  rather,  German  Unitarians  did  not  pro- 
duce more  distinguished  men  than  before, 
they  came  more  forward  in  the  field  of 
dispute.     Finally  expelled   from   Poland 
in  1660,  they  sought  refuge  in  more  learn- 
ed as  well  as  more  tolerant  regions,  and 
especially  in  the  genial  soil  of  religious 
liberty,  the  United  Provinces.    Even  here 
they  enjoyed  no  avowed  toleration ;  but 


least  Author 


*  Nelson's  Life  of  Bull. 


the  press,  with  a  very  slight  concealment 
of  place,  under  the  attractive  words  Eleu- 
theropolis,  Irenopolis,  or  Freystadt,  was 
ready  to  serve  them  with  its  natural  im- 
partiality. They  began  to  make  a  slight 
progress  in  England  ;  the  writings  of  Bid- 
die  were  such  as  even  Cromwell,  though 
habitually  tolerant,  did  not  overlook  ;  the 
underwent  an  imprisonment  both 
at  that  time  and  after  the  Restoration. 
In  general,  the  Unitarian  writers  pre- 
served a  disguise.  Milton's  treatise,  not 
long  since  brought  to  light,  goes  on  the 
Arian  hypothesis,  which  had  probably 
been  countenanced  by  some  others.  It 
became  common,  in  the  reign  of  Charles 
II.,  for  the  P^nglish  divines  to  attack  the 
anti-Trinitarians  of  each  denomination. 

30.  An  epoch  is  supposed  to  have  been 
made  in  this  controversy  by  the  Bull's  Defen- 
famous  work  of  Bull,  Defensio  «'<>  Fidei  NI- 
Fidei   Nicenae.     This  was  not  cense' 
primarily  directed  against  the  heterodox 
party.     In   the   Dogmata  Theologica  of 
Petavius,  published  in  1644,  that  learned 
Jesuit,    laboriously    compiling    passages 
from  the  fathers,  had  come  to  the  conclu- 
sion that  most  of  those  before  the  Nicene 
council  had  seemed,  by  their  language,  to 
run  into  nearly  the  same  heresy  as  that 
which  the  council  had  condemned;  and 
this  inference  appeared  to  rest  on  a  long 
series  of  quotations.    The  Arminian  Cour- 
celles,  and  even  the  English  philosopher 
Cudworth,  the  latter  of  whom  was  as  lit 
tie  suspected  of  an  heterodox  leaning  as 
Petavius  himself,  had  come  to  the  same 
result ;    so  that  a  considerable    triumph 
was  given  to  the  Arians,  in  which  the 
Socinians,  perhaps  at  that  time  more  nu- 
merous, seem  to  have  thought  themselves 
entitled  to  partake.      Bull  had  therefore 
to  contend  with  authorities  not  to  be  de- 
spised by  the  learned. 

31.  The   Defensio   Fidei    Nicense  was 
published  in  1685.     It  did  not  want  an- 
swerers  in   England  ;    but   it  obtained  a 
great  reputation,  and  an  assembly  of  the 
French  clergy,  through  the  influence  of 
Bossuet,  returned  thanks  to  the  author. 
It    was    indeed    evident    that    Petavius, 
though  he  had  certainly  formed  his  opin- 
ion with  perfect  honesty,  was  preparing 
the  way  for  an  inference,  that  if  the  prim- 
itive fathers  could  be  heterodox  on  a  point 
of  so  great  magnitude,  we  must  look  for 
infallibility,  not  in  them  nor  in  the  diffu- 
sive Church,  but  in  general  councils  pre- 
sided over  by  the  pope,  or  ultimately  in 
the  pope  himself.     This,  though  not  un- 
suitable to  the  notions  of  some  Jesuits, 
was  diametrically  opposed  to  the  princi- 
ples of  the  Gallican  Church,  which  pro- 


FROM  1650  TO  1700. 


289 


(essed  to  repose  on  a  perpetual  and  cath- 
olic tradition. 

32.  Notwithstanding  the  popularity  of 
Not  saiisfac-  this  defence  of  the  Nicene  faith, 
jory  to  ail.     au(i  tjie  learning  it  displays,  the 
author  was  far  from  ending  the  contro- 
versy, or  from  satisfying  all  his  readers. 
It  was  alleged  that  he  does  not  meet  the 
question  with  which  he  deals  ;    that  the 
word  6fj.oovair>e,  being  almost  new  at  the 
time  of  the  council,  and  being  obscure 
and  metaphysical  in  itself,  required  a  pre- 
cise definition  to  make  the  reader  see  his 
way  before  him,  or,  at  least,  one  better 
than  Bull  lias  given,  which  the  adversary 
might  probably  adopt  without  much  scru- 
ple ;  that  tlie  passages  adduced  from  the 
fathers  are  often  insufficient  for  his  pur- 
pose ;  that  he  confounds  the  eternal  es- 
sence with  the  eternal  personality  or  dis- 
tinctness of  the  Logos,  though  well  aware, 
of  course,  that  many  of  the  early  writers 
employed  different  names  (erdtaOeTOf  and 
npo(j>opiKo<;)  for  these  ;  and  that  he  does  not 
repel  some  of   the   passages  which  can 
hardly  bear  an  orthodox   interpretation. 
It  was  urged,  moreover,  that  his  own  hy- 
pothesis, taken  altogether,  is  but  a  pallia- 
ted Arianism  ;  that  by  insisting,  for  more 
than  one  hundred  pages,  on  the  subordi- 
nation of  the  Son  to  the  Father,  he  came 
close  to  what  since  has  borne  that  name, 
though  it  might  not  be  precisely  what  had 
been  condemned  at  Nice,  and  could  not 
be  reconciled  with  the  Athanasian  creed, 
except  by  such  an  interpretation  of  the 
latter  as  is  neither  probable,  nor  has  been 
reputed  orthodox. 

33.  Among  the  theological  writers  of  the 
.      Roman  Church,  and  in  a  less  degree 
UC8'  among  Protestants,  there   has  al- 
ways been  a  class  not  inconsiderable  for 
numbers  or  for  influence,  generally  denom- 
inated mystics,  or,  when  their  language 
has  been   more  unmeasured,  enthusiasts 
and  fanatics.    These  may  be  distinguished 
into  two  kinds,  though  it  must  readily  be 
understood  that  they  may  often  run  much 
into  one  another ;  the  first  believing  that 
the  soul,  by  immediate  communion  with 
the  Deity,  receives  a  peculiar  illumination 
and  knowledge  of  truths,  not  cognisable 
by  the  understanding  ;  the  second  less  so- 
licitous about  intellectual  than  moral  light, 
and  aiming  at  such  pure  contemplation  of 
the  attributes  of  God,  and  such  an  intimate 
perception  of  spiritual  life  as  may  end  in 
a  sort  of  absorption  into  the  divine  essence. 
But  I  should  not  probably  have  alluded  to 
any  writings  of  this  description,  if  the  two 
most  conspicuous  luminaries  of  the  French 

Church,  Bossuet  and  Fenelon,  had 
lon'  not  clashed  with  each  other  in  that 
VOL.  II.— O  o 


famous  controversy  of  Quietism,  to  which 
the  enthusiastic  writings  of  Madame  Guy- 
on  gave  birth.  The  "  Maximes  des  Saints" 
of  Fenelon  I  have  never  seen ;  the  editions 
of  his  entire  works,  as  they  affect  to  be, 
do  not  include  what  the  Church  has  con- 
demned ;  and  the  original  book  has  prob- 
ably become  scarce.  Fenelon  appears  to 
have  been  treated  by  his  friend,  shall  we 
call  him  1  or  rival,  with  remarkable  harsh- 
ness. Bossuet  might  have  felt  some  jeal- 
ousy at  the  rapid  elevation  of  the  Arch- 
bishop of  Cambray  :  but  we  need  not  have 
recourse  to  this  ;  the  rigour  of  orthodoxy 
in  a  temper  like  his  will  account  for  all. 
There  could  be  little  doubt  but  that  many 
saints  honoured  by  the  Church  had  utter- 
ed things  quite  as  strong  as  any  that  Fen- 
elon's  work  contained.  Bossuet,  howev- 
er, succeeded  in  obtaining  its  condemna- 
tion at  Rome.  Fenelon  was  of  the  second 
class  above  mentioned  among  the  mystics, 
and  seems  to  have  been  absolutely  free 
from  such  pretences  to  illumination  as  we 
find  in  Behmen  or  Barclay.  The  pure  dis- 
interested love  of  God  was  the  mainspring 
of  his  religious  theory.  The  Divine  (Econ- 
omy of  Poiret,  1686,  and  the  writings  of  a 
German  Quietist,  Spcner,  do  not  require 
any  particular  mention.*  * 

34.  This  later  period  of  the  seventeenth 
century  was  marked  by  an  in-  cinmge  in 
creasing  boldness  in  religious  in-  "le  c''arac 

r.     i  ,.    °  ,      .  tcr  of  iheo- 

quiry  ;  we  find  more  disregard  of  logical  m 
authority,  more  disposition  to  eraiure. 
question  received  tenets,  a  more  suspi- 
cious criticism,  both  as  to  the  genuineness 
and  the  credibility  of  ancient  writings,  a 
more  ardent  love  of  truth,  that  is,  of  per- 
ceiving and  understanding  what  is  true  in- 
stead of  presuming  that  we  possess  it 
without  any  understanding  at  all.  Much 
of  this  was  associated,  no  doubt,  with  the 
other  revolutions  in  literary  opinion  ;  with 
the  philosophy  of  Bacon,  Descartes,  Gas- 
sendi,  Hobbes,  Baylc,  and  Locke ;  with  the 
spirit  which  a  slightly  learned,  yet  acute 
generation  of  men,  rather  conversant  with 
the  world  than  with  libraries,  to  whom  the 
appeal  in  modern  languages  must  be  made, 
was  sure  to  breathe ;  with  that  incessant 
reference  to  proof  which  the  physical  sci- 
ences taught  mankind  to  demand.  Hence 
quotations  are  comparatively  rare  in  the 
theological  writings  of  this  age ;  they  are 
better  reduced  to  their  due  office  of  testi- 
mony as  to  fact,  sometimes  of  illustration 
or  better  statement  of  an  argument,  but 
not  so  much  alleged  as  argument  or  au- 
thority in  themselves.  Even  those  who 
combated  on  the  side  of  established  doc- 


*  Bibl.  Universelle,v,412;  xvi.,  224. 


290 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


trines  were  compelled  to  argue  more  from 
themselves,  lest  the  public,  their  umpire, 
should  reject,  with  an  opposite  prejudice, 
what  had  enslaved  the  prejudices  of  their 
fathers. 

35.  It  is  well  known  that  a  disbelief  in 
Freedom   Christianity  became  very  frequent 
of  many    about  this  time.      Several  books 
writings.  more   Or  less  appear  to  indicate 
this  spirit,  but  the  charge  has  often  been 
made    with    no    sufficient    reason.      Of 
Hobbes  enough  has  been  already  said ;  and 
Spinosa's  place,  as  a  metaphysician,  will 
be  in  the  next  chapter.     His  Tractatus 
Theologico  -  Politicus,    published    anony- 
mously at  Amsterdam,  with  the  false  date 
of  Hamburg,  in  1670,  contains  many  ob- 
servations on  the  Old  Testament,  which, 
though  they  do  not  really  affect  its  general 
authenticity  and  truth,  clashed  with  the 
commonly-received  opinion  of  its  absolute 
inspiration.    Some  of  these  remarks  were, 
if  not  borrowed,  at  least  repeated  in  a  book 
of  more  celebrity,  Sentimens  de  quelques 
Theologiens  d'Hollande  sur  FHistoire  Cri- 
tique du  Pere  Simon.     This  work  is  writ- 
ten by  Le  Clerc,  but  it  has  been  doubted 
whether  he  is  the  author  of  some  acute, 
but  hardy  remarks  on  the  inspiration  of 
Scripture  whieh  it  contains.     These,  how- 
ever, must  be  presumed  to  coincide,  for 
the  most  part,  with  his  own  opinion  ;  but 
he  has  afterward  declared  his  dissent  from 
the  hypothesis  contained  in  these  volumes, 
that  Moses  was  not  the  author  of  the  Pen- 
tateuch.    The  Archaeologia  Philosophica 
of  Thomas  Burnet  is  intended  to  question 
the  literal  history  of  the  creation  and  fall. 
But  few  will  pretend  that  either  Le  Clerc 
or  Burnet  were  disbelievers  in  revelation. 

36.  Among  those  who  sustained  the  truth 
Thoughts  of  Christianity  by  argument  rath- 
of  Pascal,  er  than  authority,  the  first  place, 
both  in  order  of  time  and  of  excellence,  is 
due  to  Pascal,  though  his  Thoughts  were 
not  published  till  1670,  some  years  after 
his  death,  and,  in  the  first  edition,,  not  with- 
out suppressions.     They  have  been  sup- 
posed to  be  fragments  of  a  more  systemat- 
ic work  that  he  had  planned,  or,  perhaps, 
only  reflections  committed  to  paper,  with 
no  design  of  publication  in  their  actual 
form.     But,  as  is  generally  the  case  with 
works  of  genius,  we  do  not  easily  persuade 
ourselves  that  they  could  have  been  im- 
proved by  any  such  alteration  as  would 
have  destroyed  their  type.     They  are  at 
present  bound  together  by  a  real  cohe- 
rence through  the  predominant  character 
of  the  reasonings  and  sentiments,  and  give 
us  everything  that  we  could  desire  in  a 
more  regular  treatise,  without  the  tedious 
verbosity  which  regularity  is  apt  to  pro- 


duce. The  style  is  not  so  polished  as  in 
the  Provincial  Letters,  and  the  sentences 
are  sometimes  ill  constructed  and  ellipti- 
cal. Passages  almost  transcribed  from 
Montaigne  have  been  published  by  care- 
less editors  as  Pascal's. 

37.  But  the  Thoughts  of  Pascal  are  to 
be  ranked,  as  a  monument  of  his  genius, 
above  the  Provincial  Letters,  though  some 
have  asserted  the  contrary.   .  They  bum 
with  an  intense  light ;  condensed  in  ex- 
pression, sublime,  energetic,  rapid,  they 
hurry  away  the  reader  till  he  is  scarcely 
able  or  willing  to  distinguish  the  sophisms 
from   the  truth  they  contain.     For  that 
many  of  them  are  incapable  of  bearing  a 
calm  scrutiny  is  very  manifest  to  those 
who  apply  such  a  test.    The  notes  of  Vol- 
taire, though  always  intended  to  detract, 
are   sometimes    unanswerable  ;    but   the 
splendour  of  Pascal's  eloquence  absolute- 
ly annihilates,  in  effect  on  the  general 
reader,  even  this  antagonist. 

38.  Pascal  had  probably  not  read  very 
largely,  which  has  given  an  ampler  sweep 
to  his  genius.     Except  the  Bible  and  the 
writings  of  Augustin,  the  book  that  seems 
most  to  have  attracted  him  was  the  Essays 
of  Montaigne.     Yet  no  men  could  be  more 
unlike  in  personal  dispositions  and  in  the 
cast  of  their  intellect.     But  Pascal,  though 
abhorring  the  religious  and  moral  care- 
lessness of  Montaigne,  found  much  that 
fell  in  with  his  own  reflections  in  the  con- 
tempt of  human  opinions,  the  perpetual 
humbling  of  human  reason,  which  runs 
through  the  bold  and  original  work  of  his 
predecessor.     He  quotes  no  book  so  fre- 
quently ;  and,  indeed,  except   Epictetus, 
and  once  or  twice  Descartes,  he  hardly 
quotes  any  other  at  all.     Pascal  was  too 
acute  a  geometer,  and  too  sincere  a  lover 
of  truth  to  countenance  the  sophisms  of 
mere  Pyrrhonism ;  but,  like  many  theo- 
logical writers,  in  exalting  faith  he  does 
not  always  give  reason  her  value,  and  fur- 
nishes weapons  which  the  skeptic  might 
employ  against  himself.     It  has  been  said 
that  he  denies  the  validity  of  the  proofs 
of  natural  religion.     This  seems  to  be  in 
some  measure  an  error,  founded  on  mis- 
taking the  objections  he  puts  in  the  mouths 
of  unbelievers  for  his  own.     But  it  must, 
I  think,  be  admitted  that  his  arguments 
for  the  being  of  a  God  are  too  often  d 
tutiori,  that  it  is  the  safer  side  to  take. 

39.  The  Thoughts  of  Pascal  on  mira- 
cles abound  in  proofs  of  his  acuteness  and 
originality ;    an    originality    much    more 
striking  when  we  recollect  that  the  subject 
had  not  been  discussed  as  it  has  since,  but 
with  an  intermixture  of  some  sophistical 
and   questionable   positions.     Several  of 


FROM  1650  TO  1700. 


291 


them  have  a  secret  reference  to  the  fa- 
mous cure  of  his  niece,  Mademoiselle  Pe- 
rier,  by  the  holy  thorn.  But  he  is  embar- 
rassed with  the  difficult  question  whether 
miraculous  events  are  sure  tests  of  the 
doctrine  they  support,  and  is  not  wholly 
consistent  in  his  reasoning  or  satisfactory 
in  his  distinctions.  I  am  unable  to  pro- 
nounce whether  Pascal's  other  observa- 
tions on  the  rational  proofs  of  Christianity 
are  as  original  as  they  are  frequently  in- 
genious and  powerful. 

40.  But  the  leading  principle  of  Pascal's 
theology,  that  from  which  he  deduces  the 
necessary  truth  of  revelation,  is  the  fallen 
nature  of  mankind ;  dwelling  less  upon 
scriptural  proofs,  which  he  takes  for  grant- 
ed, than  on  the  evidence  which  he  sup- 
poses man  himself  to  supply.  Nothing, 
however,  can  be  more  dissimilar  than  his 
beautiful  visions  to  the  vulgar  Calvinism 
of  the  pulpit.  It  is  not  the  sordid,  grov- 
elling, degraded  Caliban  of  that  school,  but 
the  ruined  archangel  that  he  delights  to 
paint.  Man  is  so  great,  that  his  greatness 
is  manifest,  even  in  his  knowledge  of  his 
own  misery.  A  tree  does  not  know  itself 
to  be  miserable.  It  is  true  that  to  know 
we  are  miserable  is  misery  ;  but  still  it  is 
greatness  to  know  it.  All  his  misery 
proves  his  greatness  ;  it  is  the  misery  of 
a  great  lord,  of  a  king,  dispossessed  of 
their  own.  Man  is  the  feeblest  branch  of 
nature,  but  it  is  a  branch  that  thinks.  He 
requires  not  the  universe  to  crush  him. 
He  may  be  killed  by  a  vapour,  by  a  drop 
of  water.  But  if  the  whole  universe 
should  crush  him,  he  would  be  nobler  than 
that  which  caused  his  death,  because  he 
knows  that  he  is  dying,  and  the  universe 
would  not  know  its'power  over  him.  This 
is  very  evidently  sophistical  and  declama- 
tory, but  it  is  the  sophistry  of  a  fine  im- 
agination. It  would  be  easy,  however,  to 
find  better  passages.  The  dominant  idea 
recurs  in  almost  every  page  of  Pascal. 
His  melancholy  genius  plays  in  wild  and 
rapid  flashes,  like  lightning  round  the 
scathed  oak,  about  the  fallen  greatness  of 
man.  He  perceives  every  characteristic 
quality  of  his  nature  under  these  condi- 
tions. They  are  the  solution  of  every 
problem,  the  clearing  up  of  every  incon- 
sistency that  perplexes  us.  "  Man,"  he 
says  very  finely,  "  has  a  secret  instinct 
that  leads  him  to  seek  diversion  and  em- 
ployment from  without ;  which  springs 
from  the  sense  of  his  continual  misery. 
And  he  has  another  secret  instinct,  re- 
maining from  the  greatness  of  his  original 
nature,  which  teaches  him  that  happines 
can  only  exist  in  repose.  And  from  these 
two  contrary  instincts  there  arises  in  him 


an  obscure  propensity,  concealed  in  his 
soul,  which  prompts  him  to  seek  repose 
through  agitation,  and  even  to  fancy  that 
he  contentment  he  does  not  enjoy  will 
)e  found,  if  by  struggling  yet  a  little  longer 
he  can  open  a  door  to  rest."* 

41.  It  can  hardly  be  conceived  that  any 
one  would  think  the  worse  of  human  na- 

ure  or  of  himself  by  reading  these  mag- 
lificent  lamentations  of  Pascal.  He  adorns 
and  ennobles  the  degeneracy  he  exagger- 
ates. The  ruined  aqueduct,  the  broken 
;olumn,  the  desolated  city,  suggest  no 
deas  but  of  dignity  and  reverence.  No 
one  is  ashamed  of  a  misery  which  bears 
witness  to  his  grandeur.  If  we  should 
persuade  a  labourer  that  the  blood  of 
irinces  flows  in  his  veins,  we  might  spoil 
lis  contentment  with  the  only  lot  he  has 
drawn,  but  scarcely  kill  in  him  the  seeds 
of  pride. 

42.  Pascal,  like  many  others  who  have 
dwelt  on  this  alleged  degeneracy  of  man- 
kind, seems  never  to  have  disentangled 
lis  mind  from  the  notion,  that  what  we 
call  human  nature  has  not  merely  an  ar- 
bitrary and  grammatical,  but  an  intrinsic 
objective  reality.     The  common  and  con- 
venient forms  of  language,  the  analogies 
of  sensible  things,  which  the  imagination 
readily  supplies,  conspire  to  delude  us  into 
this  fallacy.     Each  man  is  born  with  cer- 
tain powers  and  dispositions  which  con- 
stitute his  own  nature ;  and  the  resem- 
blance of  these  in  all  his  fellows  produces 
a  general  idea,  or  a  collective  appellation, 
whichever  we  may  prefer  to  say,  called 
the  nature  of  man ;  but  few  would  in  this 
age  contend  for  the  existence  of  this  as  a 
substance  capable  of  qualities,  and  those 
qualities  variable,  or  subject  to  mutation. 
The  corruption  of  human  nature  is  there- 
fore a  phrase  which  may  convey  an  intel- 
ligible meaning,  if  it  is  acknowledged  to 
be  merely  analogical  and  inexact,  but  will 
mislead  those  who  do  not  keep  this  in 
mind.     Man's  nature,  as  it  now  is,  that 
which  each  man  and  all  men  possess,  is 
the  immediate  workmanship  of  God,  as 
much  as  at  his  creation  ;  nor  is  any  other 
hypothesis  consistent  with  theism. 

43.  This  notion  of  a  real  universal  in 
human  nature  presents  to  us,  in  an  exag- 
gerated light,  those  anomalies  from  which 
writers  of  Pascal's  school  are  apt  to  infer 
some  vast  change  in  our  original  constitu- 
tion. Exaggerated,  I  say,  for  it  cannot  be 
denied  that  we  frequently  perceive  a  sort 
of  incoherence,  as  it  appears  at  least  to 
our  defective  vision,  in  the  same  individ- 
ual ;  and,  like  threads  of  various  hues  shot 


*CEuvres  de  Pascal,  vol.  i.,  p.  121. 


292 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


through  one  web,  the  love  of  vice  and  of 
virtue,  the  strength  and  weakness  of  the 
heart,  are  wonderfully  blended  in  self-con- 
tradictory and  self-destroying  conjunction. 
But,  even  if  we  should  fail  altogether  in 
solving  the  very  first  steps  of  this  prob- 
lem, there  is  no  course  for  a  reasonable 
being  except  to  acknowledge  the  limita- 
tions of  his  own  faculties ;  and  it  seems 
rather  unwarrantable,  on  the  credit  of  this 
humble  confession,  that  we  do  not  com- 
prehend the  depths  of  what  has  been  with- 
held from  us,  to  substitute  something  far 
more  incomprehensible  and  revolting  to 
our  moral  and  rational  capacities  in  its 
place.  "  What,"  says  Pascal,  "  can  be 
more  contrary  to  the  rules  of  our  wretched 
justice,  than  to  damn  eternally  an  infant 
incapable  of  volition  for  an  offence  where- 
in he  seems  to  have  had  no  share,  and 
which  was  committed  six  thousand  years 
before  he  was  born  '\  Certainly  nothing 
shocks  us  more  rudely  than  this  doctrine ; 
and  yet,  without  this  mystery,  the  most 
incomprehensible  of  all,  we  are  incompre- 
hensible to  ourselves.  Man  is  more  in- 
conceivable without  this  mystery,  than  the 
mystery  is  inconceivable  to  man." 

44.  It  might  be  wandering  from  the 
proper  subject  of  these  volumes  if  we 
were  to  pause,  even  shortly,  to  inquire 
whether,  while  the  creation  of  a  world  so 
full  of  evil  must  ever  remain  the  most  in- 
scrutable of  mysteries,  we  might  not  be 
led  some  way  in  tracing  the  connexion  of 
moral  and  physical  evil  in  mankind  with 
his  place  in  that  creation ;  and  especially 
whether  the  law  of  continuity,  which  it 
has  not  pleased  his  Maker  to  break  with 
respect  to  his  bodily  structure,  and  which 
binds  that,  in  the  unity  of  one  great  type, 
to  the  lower  forms  of  animal  life  by  the 
common  conditions  of  nourishment,  re- 
production, and  self-defence,  has  not  ren- 
dered necessary  both  the  physical  appe- 
tites and  the  propensities  which  terminate 
in  self:  whether,  again,  the  superior  en- 
dowments of  his  intellectual  nature,  his 
susceptibility  of  moral  emotion,  and  of 
those  disinterested  affections  which,  if  not 
exclusively,  he  far  more  intensely  pos- 
sesses than  any  inferior  being;  above  all, 
the  gift  of  conscience,  and  a  capacity  to 
know  God,  might  not  be  expected,  even 
beforehand,  by  their  conflict  with  the  ani- 
mal passions,  to  produce  some  partial  in- 
consistencies, some  anomalies,  at  least, 
which  he  could  not  himself  explain,  in  so 
compound  a  being.  Every  link  in  the  long 
chain  of  creation  does  not  pass  by  easy 
transition  into  the  next.  There  are  neces- 
sary chasms,  and,  as  it  were,  leaps,  from 
one  creature  to  another,  which,  though 


not  exceptions  to  the  law  of  continuity, 
are  accommodations  of  it  to  a  new  series 
of  being.  If  man  was  made  in  the  image 
of  God,  he  was  also  made  in  the  image  of 
an  ape.  The  framework  of  the  body  of  him 
who  has  weighed  the  stars,  and  made  the 
lightning  his  slave,  approaches  to  that  of 
a  speechless  brute,  who  wanders  in  the 
forests  of  Sumatra.  Thus  standing  on  the 
frontier  land  between  animal  and  angelic 
natures,  what  wonder  that  he  should  par- 
take of  both  !  But  these  are  things  which 
it  is  difficult  to  touch ;  nor  would  they 
have  been  here  introduced  but  in  order  to 
weaken  the  force  of  positions  so  confi- 
dently asserted  by  many,  and  so  eloquent- 
ly by  Pascal. 

45.  Among  the  works  immediately  de- 
signed to  confirm  the  truth  of  vindications 
Christianity,  a  certain  reputa-  ofcimstian- 
tion  was  acquired,  through  the  lty- 
know/n  erudition  of  its  author,  by  the  De- 
monstratio  Evangelica  of  Huet,  bishop  of 
Avranches.  This  is  paraded  with  defini- 
tions, axioms,  and  propositions,  in  order 
to  challenge  the  name  it  assumes.  But 
the  axioms,  upon  which  so  much  is  to  rest, 
are  often  questionable  or  equivocal ;  as, 
for  instance  :  Omnis  prophetia  est  verax, 
quac  praedixit  res  eventu  deinde  completas  ; 
equivocal  in  the  word  verax.  Huet  also 
confirms  his  axioms  by  argument,  which 
shows  that  they  are  not  truly  such.  The 
whole  book  is  full  of  learning ;  but  ha 
frequently  loses  sight  of  the  points  he 
would  prove,  and  his  quotations  fall  beside 
the  mark.  Yet  he  has  furnished  much  to 
others,  and  possibly  no  earlier  work  on 
the  same  subject  is  so  elaborate  and  com- 
prehensive. The  next  place,  if  not  a  higher 
one,  might  be  given  to  the  treatise  of  Ab- 
badie,  a  French  refugee,  published  in  1684. 
His  countr3rmen  bestow  on  it  the  highest 
eulogies  ;  but  it  was  never  so  well  known 
in  England,  and  is  now  almost  forgotten. 
The  oral  conferences  of  Limborch  with 
Orobio,  a  Jew  of  considerable  learning  and 
ability,  on  the  prophecies  relating  to  the 
Messiah,  were  reduced  into  writing  and 
published  ;  they  are  still  in  some  request. 
No  book  of  this  period,  among  many  that 
were  written,  reached  so  high  a  reputation 
in  England  as  Leslie's  Short  Method  with 
the  Deists,  published  in  1694  ;  in  which  he 
has  started  an  argument,  pursued  with 
more  critical  analysis  by  others,  on  the 
peculiarly  distinctive  marks  of  credibility 
that  pertain  to  the  scriptural  miracles. 
The  authenticity  of  this  little  treatise  has 
been  idly  questioned  on  the  Continent,  for 
no  better  reason  than  that  a  translation  of 
it  has  been  published  in  a  posthumous 
edition  (1732)  of  the  works  of  Saint  Real, 


FROM  1650  TO  1700. 


293 


who  died  in  1692.  But  posthumous  edi- 
tions are  never  deemed  of  sufficient  au- 
thority to  establish  a  literary  title  against 
possession ;  and  Prosper  Marchand  in- 
forms us  that  several  other  tracts  in  this 
edition  of  Saint  Real  are  erroneously  as- 
cribed to  him.  The  internal  evidence  that 
the  Short  Method  was  written  by  a  Prot- 
estant should  be  conclusive.* 

46.  Every  change  in  public  opinion 
Progress  of  which  this  period  witnessed  con- 
toierant  firmed  the  principles  of  religious 
principles,  toleration  that  had  taken  root  in 
the  earlier  part  of  the  century  ;  the  prog- 
ress of  a  larger  and  more  catholic  the- 
ology, the  weakening  of  bigotry  in  the 
minds  of  laymen,  and  the  consequent  dis- 
regard of  ecclesiastical  clamour,  not  only 
in  England  and  Holland,  but  to  a  consider- 
able extent  in  France  ;  we  might  even  add, 
the  violent  proceedings  of  the  last  govern- 
ment, in  the  revocation  of  the  Edict  of 
Nantes,  and  the  cruelties  which  attended 
it.  Louis  XIV.,  at  a  time  when  mankind 
were  beginning  to  renounce  the  very 
theory  of  persecution,  renewed  the  an- 
cient enormities  of  its  practice,  and  thus 
unconsciously  gave  the  aid  of  moral  sym- 
pathy and  indignation  to  the  adverse  argu- 
ment. The  Protestant  refugees  of  France, 
scattered  among  their  brethren,  brought 
home  to  all  minds  the  great  question  of 
free  conscience  ;  not  with  the  stupid  and 
impudent  limitation  which  even  Protest- 
ants had  sometimes  employed,  that  truth 
indeed  might  not  be  restrained,  but  that 
error  might;  a  broader  foundation  was 
laid  by  the  great  advocates  of  toleration 


*  The  Biographic  Universelle,  art.  Leslie,  says  : 
Get  ouvrage,  qui  passe  pour  ce  qu'il  a  fait  de  mieux, 
lui  a  ele  conteste.  Le  Docteur  Gleigh  [sic]  a  fait 
de  grands  efforts  pour  prouver  qu'il  appartenait  a 
Leslie,  quoiqu'il  fut  publie  parmi  les  ouvrages  de 
1'Abbe  de  Saint  Real,  mort  en  1092.  It  is  melan- 
choly to  see  this  petty  spirit  of  cavil  against  an 
English  writer  in  so  respectable  a  work  as  the 
Biographic  Universelle.  No  grands  efforts  could 
be  required  from  Dr.  Glei?,  or  any  one  else,  to  prove 
that  a  book  was  written  by  Leslie,  which  bore  his 
name,  which  was  addressed  to  an  English  peer,  and 
had  gone  through  many  editions,  when  there  is 
literally  no  claimant  on  the  other  side  ;  for  a  post- 
humous edition,  forty  years  after  an  author's  death, 
without  attestation,  is  no  literary  evidence  at  all, 
even  where  a  book  is  published  for  the  first  time, 
much  less  where  it,  has  a  known  status  as  the  pro- 
duction of  a  certain  author.  This  is  so  manifest  to 
any  one  who  has  the  slightest  tincture  of  critical 
judgment,  that  we  need  not  urge  the  palpable  im- 
probability of  ascribing  to  Saint  Real,  a  Romish 
ecclesiastic,  an  argument  which  turns  peculiarly  on 
the  distinction  between  the  scriptural  miracles  and 
those  alleged  upon  inferior  evidence.  I  have  lost, 
or  never  made,  the  reference  to  Prosper  Marchand  ; 
but  the  passage  will  be  found  in  his  Dictionnaire 
Historique,  which  contains  a  full  article  on  Saint 
Real. 


in  this  period,  Bayle,  Limborch,  and  Locke, 
as  it  had  formerly  been  by  Taylor  and 
Episcopius.* 

47.  Bayle,  in  1686,  while  yet  the  smart 
of  his  banishment  was  keenly  Bayle,3  Phi, 
felt,  published  his  Philosophical  osophicai 
Commentary    on   the   text   in  c°mn'<"itary. 
Scripture,  "Compel  them  to  come  in;" 
a  text  which  some  of  the  advocates  of 
persecution  were  accustomed  to  produce. 
He  gives  in  the  first  part  nine  reasons 
against  this  literal  meaning,  among  which 
none  are  philological.    In  the  second  part 
he    replies  to   various  objections.     This 
work  of  Bayle  docs  not  seem  to  me  as 
subtle  and  logical  as  he  was  wont  to  be, 
notwithstanding    the    formal    syllogisms 
with  which  he  commences  each  of  his 
chapters.     His  argument  against  compul- 
sory conversions,  which  the  absurd  inter- 
pretation of  the  text  by  his  adversaries 
required,  is  indeed  irresistible ;  but  this  is 
far  from  sufficiently  establishing  the  right 
of  toleration  itself.     It  appears  not  very 
difficult  for  a  skilful  sophist,  and  none  was 
more  so  than  Bayle  himself,  to  have  met 
some  of  his  reasoning  with  a  specious  re- 
ply.    The  skeptical  argument  of  Taylor, 
that  we  can  rarely  be  sure  of  knowing  the 
truth  ourselves,  and,  consequently,  of  con- 
demning in  others  what  is  error,  he  touches 
but  slightly ;   nor  does  he  dwell  on  the 
political  advantages  which  experience  has 
shown  a  full  toleration  to  possess.    In  the 
third  part  of  the  Philosophical  Comment- 
ary he  refutes  the  apology  of  Augustin 
for  persecution ;   and  a  few  years  after- 
ward he  published  a  supplement  answer- 
ing a  book  of  Jurieu,  which  had  appeared 
in  the  mean  time. 

48.  Locke  published  anonymously  his 
Letter  on  Toleration  in  1689.  ],oche.s  L^. 
The  season  was  propitious;   a  leronToier 
legal  tolerance  of  public  worship  ation- 
had  first  been  granted  to  the  dissenters 
after  the  revolution,  limited  indeed  to  such 
as  held  most  of  the  doctrines  of  the  Church, 
but  preparing  the  nation  for  a  more  ex- 
tensive application  of  its  spirit.     In  the 
Liberty  of  Prophesying  Taylor  had  chiefly 
in  view  to  deduce  the  justice  of  tolerating 
a  diversity  in  religion  from  the  difficulty 
of  knowing  the  truth.    He  is  not  very  con- 
sistent as  to  the  political  question,  and 
limits  too  narrowly  the  province  of  toler- 


*  The  Dutch  clergy,  and  a  French  minister  in 
Holland,  Jurieu.  of  great  polemical  fame  in  his  day, 
though  now  chiefly  knowrl  by  means  of  his  adver- 
saries. Bayle  and  Le  Clerc,  strenuously  resisted 
both  the  theory  of  general  toleration,  and  the  mod- 
erate or  liberal  principles  in  religion  which  were 
connected  with  it.  Le  Clerc  passed  his  life  in  fight- 
ing this  battle,  and  many  articles  in  the  Bibliotheque 
Universelle  relate  to  it. 


294 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


able  opinions.  Locke  goes  more  express- 
ly to  the  right  of  the  civil  magistrate,  not 
omitting,  but  dwelling  less  forcibly  on  the 
latitudinarian  skepticism  of  his  predeces- 
sor. His  own  theory  of  government  came 
to  his  aid.  The  clergy  in  general,  and 
perhaps  Taylor  himself,  had  derived  the 
magistrate's  jurisdiction  from  paternal 
power.  Anti^as  they  apparently  assumed 
this  power  to  extend  over  adult  children, 
it  was  natural  to  give  those  who  succeeded 
to  it  in  political  communities  a  large  sway 
over  the  moral  and  religious  behaviour  of 
subjects.  Locke,  adopting  the  opposite 
theory  of  compact,  defines  the  common- 
wealth to  be  a  society  of  men  constituted 
only  for  the  procuring,  preserving,  and 
advancing  their  own  civil  interests.  He 
denies  altogether  that  the  care  of  souls 
belongs  to  the  civil  magistrate,  as  it  has 
never  been  committed  to  him.  "  All  the 
power  of  civil  government  relates  only  to 
men's  civil  interests,  is  confined  to  the 
things  of  this  world,  and  hath  nothing  to 
do  with  the  world  to  come." 

49.  The  admission  of  this  principle  would 
apparently  decide  the  controversy,  so  far 
as  it  rests  on  religious  grounds.  But  Locke 
has  recourse  to  several  other  arguments 
independent  of  it.  He  proves,  with  no 
great  difficulty,  that  the  civil  power  cannot 
judge,  or  consistently  with  any  true  prin- 
ciple of  religion,  compel  men  to  profess 
what  they  do  not  believe.  This,  however, 
is  what  very  few  would  at  present  be  in- 
clined to  maintain.  The  real  question 
was  as  to  the  publicity  of  opinions  deemed 
heterodox,  and  especially  in  social  wor- 
ship ;  and  this  is  what  those  who  held  the 
magistrate  to  possess  an  authority  patri- 
archal, universal,  and  arbitrary,  and  who 
were  also  rigidly  tenacious  of  the  neces- 
sity of  an  orthodox  faith,  and  perfectly 
convinced  that  it  was  no  other  than  their 
own,  would  hardly  be  persuaded  to  admit 
by  any  arguments  that  Locke  has  alleged. 
But  the  tendency  of  public  opinion  had 
begun  to  manifest  itself  against  both  these 
tenets  of  the  High-church  party,  so  that, 
in  the  eighteenth  century,  the  principles 
of  general  tolerance  became  too  popular 
to  be  disputed  with  any  chance  of  atten- 
tion. Locke  was  engaged  in  a  controversy 
through  his  first  letter  on  toleration,  which 
produced  a  second  and  a  third  :  but  it  does 
not  appear  that  these,  though  longer  than 
the  first,  have  considerably  modified  its 
positions.*  It  is  to  be  observed  that  he 


*  Warburton  has  fancied  that  Locke's  real  senti- 
ments are  only  discoverable  in  his  first  Letter  on 
Toleration,  and  that  in  the  two  latter  he  "  combats 
his  intolerant  adversary  quite  through  the  contro- 
versy with  his  own  principles,  well  foreseeing  that, 


pleads  for  the  universal  toleration  of  all 
modes  of  worship  not  immoral  in  their 
nature,  or  involving  doctrines  inimical  to 
s;ood  government;  placing  in  the  latter 
category  some  tenets  of  the  Church  of 
Rome. 

50.  It  is  confessed  by  Goujet  that,  even 
in  the  middle  of  the  seventeenth  French 
century,  France  could  boast  very  Sermons- 
iittle  of  pulpit  eloquence.     Frequent  quo- 
tations from  heathen  writers  and  from  the 

choolmen,  with  little  solid  morality  and 
less  good  reasoning,  make  up  the  sermons 
of  that  age.*  But  the  revolution  in  this 
style,  as  in  all  others,  though  perhaps 
gradual,  was  complete  in  the  reign  of  Lou- 
is XIV.  A  slight  sprinkling  of  passages 
from  the  fathers,  and  still  more  frequently 
from  the  Scriptures,  but  always  short,  and 
seeming  to  rise  out  of  the  preacher's 
heart  rather  than  to  be  sought  for  in  his 
memory,  replaced  that  intolerable  parade 
of  a  theological  commonplace  book,  which 
had  been  as  customary  in  France  as  in 
England.  The  style  was  to  be  the  per- 
fection of  French  eloquence,  the  reason- 
ing persuasive  rather  than  dogmatic,  the 
arrangement  more  methodical  and  distrib- 
utive than  at  present,  but  without  the  ex- 
cess  we  find  in  our  old  preachers.  This 
is  the  general  character  of  French  ser- 
mons ;  but  those  who  most  adorned  the 
pulpit,  had,  of  course,  their  individual  dis- 
tinctions. Without  delaying  to  mention 
those  who  are  now  not  greatly  remember- 
ed, such  as  La  Rue,  Hubert,  Mascaron, 
we  must  confine  ourselves  to  three  of 
high  reputation,  Bourdaloue,  Bossuet,  and 
Flechier. 

51.  Bourdaloue,  a  Jesuit,  but  as  little  of 
a  Jesuit,  in  the  worst  acceptation  „  ..„,„,„_. 

,  r       .         ujuruaioue. 

of  the  word,  as  the  order  has 
produced,  is  remarkably  simple,  earnest, 
practical :  he  convinces  rather  than  com- 
mands, and  by  convincing  he  persuades ; 
for  his  discourses  tend  always  to  some 
duty,  to  something  that  is  to  be  done  01 
avoided.  His  sentences  are  short,  inter- 
rogative, full  of  plain  and  solid  reasoning, 
unambitious  in  expression,  and  wholly 
without  that  care  in  the  choice  of  words 
and  cadences  which  we  detect  in  Bossuet 
and  Flechier.  No  one  would  call  Bour- 
daloue a  rhetorican ;  and,  though  he  con- 
tinually introduces  the  fathers,  he  has  not 
caught  their  vices  of  language,  t 


at  such  a  time  of  prejudice,  arguments  built  on  re- 
ceived opinions  would  have  greatest  weight,  and 
make  quickest  impression  on  the  body  of  the  people, 
whom  it  was  his  business  to  gain."— Biogr.  Britan- 
nica,  art.  Locke. 

*  Bibliotheque  Francaise,  vol.  ii.,  p.  283. 

t  The  public  did  justice  to  Bourdaloue,  as  they 
generally  do  to  a  solid  and  impressive  style  of  preach- 


FROM  1G50  TO  1700. 


295 


52.  Botirdaloue  is  almosi  in  the  same 
Compared       relation  to  Bossuet  as  Patru  to 
with  Bossuet.  Le  Maistre,  though  the  two  or- 
ators of  the  pulpit  are  far  above  those  of 
the  bar.     As  the  one  is  short,  condensed, 
plain,  reasoning,  and,  though  never  feeble, 
not  often   what  is  generally  called  elo- 
quent, so  the  other  is  animated,  figura- 
tive, rather  diffuse  and  prodigal  of  orna- 
ment, addressing  the  imagination  more 
than  the  judgment,  rich  and  copious  in  ca- 
dence, elevating  the  hearer  to  the  pitch  of 
his  own  sublimity.     Bossuet  is  sometimes 
too  declamatory ;    and   Bourdaloue,  per- 
haps,   sometimes    borders    on    dryness. 
Much  in  the  sermons  of  the  former  is  true 
poetry  ;   but  he  has  less  of  satisfactory 
and  persuasive  reasoning  than  the  latter. 
His  tone  is  also,  as  in  all  his  writings,  too 
domineering  and  dogmatical  for  those  who 
demand  something  beyond  the  speaker's 
authority  when  they  listen. 

53.  The  sermons,  however,  of  Bossuet, 
Funenii       taken  generally,  are  not  reckon- 
discourses   ed  in  the  highest  class  of  his 

ossuet.  mimerous  writings  ;  perhaps 
scarcely  justice  has  been  done  to  them. 
His  genius,  on  the  other  hand,  by  univer- 
sal confession,  never  shone  higher  than 
in  the  six  which  bear  the  name  of  Orai- 
sons  Funebres.  They  belong,  in  substance, 
so  much  more  naturally  to  the  province 
of  eloquence  than  of  theology,  that  I 
should  have  reserved  them  for  another 
place  if  the  separation  would  not  have 
seemed  rather  unexpected  to  the  reader. 
Few  works  of  genius,  perhaps,  in  the 
French  language  are  better  known,  or 
have  been  more  prodigally  extolled.  In 
that  style  of  eloquence  which  the  ancients 
called  demonstrative,  or,  rather,  descrip- 
tive (emfieiKTiKOf),  the  Style  of  panegyric 
or  commemoration,  they  are  doubtless  su- 
perior to  those  justly  celebrated  produc- 
tions of  Thucydides  and  Plato  that  have 
descended  to  us  from  Greece ;  nor  has 
Bossuet  been  equalled  by  any  later  wri- 
ter. Those  on  the  Queen  of  England,  on 
her  daughter  the  Duchess  of  Orleans,  and 
on  the  Prince  of  Conde,  outshine  the  rest ; 
and  if  a  difference  is  to  be  made  among 


j  these,  we  might,  perhaps,  after  some  hes- 
itation, confer  the  palm  on  the  first.  The 
range  of  topics  is  so  various,  the  thoughts 
so  just,  the  images  so  noble  and  poetical, 
the  whole  is  in  such  perfect  keeping,  the 
tone  of  awful  contemplation  is  so  uniform, 
that  if  it  has  not  any  passages  of  such  ex- 
traordinary beauty  as  occur  in  the  other 
two,  its  general  effect  on  the  mind  is  more 
irresistible.* 

54.  In  this  style,  much  more  of  orna- 
ment, more  of  what  speaks  in  the  spirit, 
and  even  the  very  phrase  of  poetry   to 
the  imagination  and  the  heart,  is  permit- 
ted by  a  rigorous  criticism  than  in  foren- 
sic  or   in  deliberative   eloquence.      The 
beauties  that  rise  before  the  author's  vis- 
ion are  not  renounced  ;  the  brilliant  col- 
ours of  his  fancy  are  subdued  ;  the  periods 
assume  a  more  rhythmical  cadence,  and 
emulate,  like  metre  itself,  the  voluptuous 
harmony  of  musical  intervals  ;  the  whole 
composition  is  more  evidently  formed  to 
delight ;  but  it  will  delight  to  little  pur- 
pose, or  even  cease,  in  any  strong  sense 
of  the  word,  to  do  so  at  all,  unless  it  is  en- 
nobled by  moral  wisdom.     In  this  Bos- 
suet was  pre-eminent ;  his  thoughts  are 
never  subtle  or  far-fetched  ;  they  have  a 
sort  of  breadth,  a  generality  of  application, 
which  is  peculiarly  required  in  those  who 
address  a   mixed    assembly,   and  which 
many  that  aim  at  what  is  profound  and 
original  are  apt  to  miss.     It  may  be  con- 
fessed, that  these  funeral  discourses  are 
not  exempt  from  some  defects,  frequently 
inherent  in  panegyrical  eloquence ;  they 
are  sometimes  too  rhetorical,  and  do  not 
appear  to  show  so  little  effort  as  some 
have  fancied ;  the  amplifications  are  some- 
times too  unmeasured,  the  language  some- 
times borders  too  nearly  on  that  of  the 
stage  ;  above  all,  there  is  a  tone  of  adula- 
tion not  quite  pleasing  to  a  calm  posterity. 

55.  Flechier  (the  third  name  of  the  sev- 


ing.  Jecrois,  saysGoujet,  p.  300,  que  tout  le  monde 
convient  qu"  aucun  autre  ne  lui  est  superieur.  C'est 
le  grand  inrutre  pour  1'eloquence  dp,  lachaire;  c'est 
le  prince  des  predicateurs.  Le  public  n'a  jamais 
etc  partage  sur  son  sujet ;  la  ville  et  la  cour  1'ont 
egalernent  estime  et  admire.  C'est  qu'il  avoit  re 
uni  en  sa  personno  tous  les  grands  caracteres  de  la 
bonne  eloquence ;  la  simplicite  du  discours  Chretien 
avec  la  majeste  et  la  grandeur,  le  sublime  avec  1'in- 
telligible  et  le  populaire,  la  force  avec  la  douceur, 
la  vehemence  avec  1'onction,  la  liberte  avec  la  jus- 
tesse,  et  le  plus  vive  ardeur  avec  la  plus  pure  lumi- 


•  An  English  preacher  of  conspicuous  renown 
for  eloquence  was  called  upon,  within  no  great 
length  of  time,  to  emulate  the  funeral  discourse  of 
Bossuet  on  the  sudden  death  of  Henrietta  of  Or- 
leans. He  had  before  him  a  subject  incomparably 
more  deep  in  interest,  more  fertile  in  great  and 
touching  associations  ;  he  had  to  describe,  not  the 
false  sorrow  of  courtiers,  not  the  shriek  of  sudden 
surprise  that  echoed  by  night  in  the  halls  of  Ver- 
sailles, not  the  apocryphal  penitence  of  one  so  taint- 
ed by  the  world's  intercourse,  but  the  manly  grie* 
of  an  entire  nation  in  the  withering  of  those  visions 
of  hope  which  wait  upon  the  untried  youth  of  roy- 
alty,  in  its  sympathy  with  grandeur  annihilated, 
with  beauty  anil  innocence  precipitated  into  the 
tornb.  Nor  did  he  sink  beneath  this  subject,  ex- 
cept as  compared  with  Bossuet.  The  strmon  to 
which  my  allusion  will  be  understood,  is  esteemed 
by  many  the  finest  effort  of  this  preacher  ;  but,  if 
read  together  with  that  of  its  prototype,  it  will  be 
laid  aside  as  almost  feeble  and  unimpressive. 


296 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


enteenth  century,  for  Massillon  be- 
:r-  longs  only  to  the  next),  like  Bos- 
suet,  has  been  more  celebrated  for  his  fu- 
neral sermons  than  for  any  others;  but, 
in  this  line,  it  is  unfortunate  for  him  to 
enter  into  unavoidable  competition  with 
one  whom  he  cannot  rival.  The  French 
critics  extol  Flechier  for  the  arrangement 
and  harmony  of  his  periods  ;  yet  even  in 
this,  according  to  La  Harpe,  he  is  not  es- 
sentially superior  to  Bossuet;  and  to  an 
English  ear,  accustomed  to  the  long  swell 
of  our  own  writers,  and  of  the  Ciceronian 
school  in  Latin,  he  will  probably  not  give 
so  much  gratification.  He  does  not  want 
a  moral  dignity,  or  a  certain  elevation  of 
thought,  without  which  the  funeral  pane- 
gyric must  be  contemptible  ;  but  he  has 
not  the  majestic  tone  of  Bossuet ;  he  does 
not,  like  him,  raise  the  heroes  and  princes 
of  the  earth  in  order  to  abase  them  by 
paintings  of  mortality  and  weakness,  or 
recall  the  hearer  in  every  passage  to 
something  more  awful  than  human  pow- 
er, and  more  magnificent  than  human 
grandeur.  This  religious  solemnity,  so 
characteristic  in  Bossuet,  is  hardly  felt  in 
the  less  emphatic  sentences  of  Fl6chier. 
Even  where  his  exordium  is  almost  wor- 
thy of  comparison,  as  in  the  funeral  dis- 
course on  Turenne,  we  find  him  degener- 
ate into  a  trivial  eulogy,  and  he  -flatters 
both  more  profusely  and  with  less  skill. 
His  style  is  graceful,  but  not  without  af- 
fectation and  false  taste.  La  Harpe  has 
not  ill  compared  him  to  Isocrates  among 
the  orators  of  Greece,  the  place  of  Demos- 
thenes being,  of  course,  reserved  for  Bos- 
suet.* 

*  The  native  critics  ascribe  a  reform  in  the  style 
of  preaching  to  Paolo  Segneri,  whom  Corniani 
does  not  hesitate  to  call,  with  the  sanction,  he 
eays,  of  posterity,  the  father  of  Italian  eloquence. 
It  is  to  be  remembered  that  in  no  country  has  the 
pulpit  been  so  much  degraded  by  empty  declama- 
tion, and  even  by  a  stupid  buffoonery.  "  The  lan- 
guage of  Segneri,"  the  same  writer  observes.  "  is 
always  full  of  dignity  and  harmony.  He  inlaid  it 
with  splendid  and  elegant  expressions,  and  has  thus 
obtained  a  place  among  the  authors  to  whom  au- 
thority has  been  given  by  the  Delia  Crusca  diction- 
ary. His  periods  are  flowing,  natural,  and  intelli- 
gible, without  the  affectation  of  obsolete  Tuscan- 
isms,  which  pass  for  graces  of  the  language  with 
many."  Tiraboschi,  with  much  commendation  of 
Segneri,  admits  that  we  find  in  him  some  vestiges 
of  the  false  taste  he  endeavoured  to  reform.  The 
very  little  that  I  have  seen  of  the  sermons  of  Seg- 
neri gives  no  impression  of  any  merit  that  can  be 
reckoned  more  than  relative  to  the  miserable  tone 
of  his  predecessors.  The  following  specimen  is 
from  one  of  his  most  admired  sermons :  E  Cristo 
non  potra  ottenere  da  voi  che  gli  nmettiate  un  tor- 
to,  un  affronto,  tin  aggravio,  una  parolina?  Che 
vorresto  da  Christo  ?  Vorreste  ch'  egli  vi  si  get- 
tasse  supplichevole  a  piedi  a  chiedervi  questa  gra: 
na  ?  ID  son  quasi  per  dire  ch'  egli  il  farebbe ; 


56.  The  style  of  preaching  in  England 
was  less  ornamental,  and  spoke  Engiisll 
less  to  the  imagination  and  affec-  sermons: 
tions  than  these  celebrated  wri-  1:arrow- 
ters  of  the  Gallican  Church ;  but  in  some 
of  our  chief  divines  it  had  its  own  excel- 
lences. The  sermons  of  Barrow  display 
a  strength  of  mind,  a  comprehensiveness 
and  fertility  which  have  rarely  been  equal- 
led. No*  better  proof  can  be  given  than 
his  eight  sermons  on  the  government  of 
the  tongue  ;  copious  and  exhaustive,  with- 
out tautology  or  superfluous  declamation, 
they  are,  in  moral  preaching,  what  the 
best  parts  of  Aristotle  are  in  ethical  phi- 
losophy, with  more  of  development  and  a 
more  extensive  observation.  It  would  be 
said  of  these  sermons,  and,  indeed,  with 
a  few  exceptions,  of  all  those  of  Barrow, 
that  they  are  not  what  is  called  evangeli- 
cal ;  they  indicate  the  ascendancy  of  an 
Arminian  party,  dwelling  far  more  than  is 
usual  in  the  pulpit  on  moral  and  rational, 
or  even  temporal  inducements,  and  some- 
times hardly  abstaining  from  what  would 
give  a  little  offence  in  later  times.*  His 
quotations,  also,  from  ancient  philoso- 
phers, though  not  so  numerous  as  in  Tay- 
lor, are  equally  uncongenial  to  our  ears. 
In  his  style,  notwithstanding  its  richness 
and  occasional  vivacity,  we  may  censure 
a  redundancy  and  excess  of  apposition : 
it  is  not  sufficient  to  avoid  strict  tautolo- 
gy ;  no  second  phrase  (to  lay  down  a  gen- 
eral rule  not  without  exception)  should  be 
so  like  the  first,  that  the  reader  would  nat- 
urally have  understood  it  to  be  comprised 


perche  se  non  dubiti  di  prostrarsi  a  piedi  di  un  tra- 
ditore,  qual'  era  Guida,  di  lavarglieli,  di  asciugar- 
glieli,  di  baciarglieli,  non  si  vergognerebbe,  cred'  io, 
di  farsi  vedere  ginocchioni  a  pie  vostri.  Ma  vi  fa 
bisogno  di  tanto  per  muovervi  a  compiacerlo  ?  Ah 
Cavalieri,  Cavalieri,  io  non  vorrei  questa  volta  farvi 
arrossire.  Nel  resto  io  so  di  certo,  ciie  se  altret- 
tanto  fosse  a  voi  domandato  da  quella  donna  cho 
chiamate  la  vostra  dama,  da  quella,  di  cui  forsen- 
nati  idolatrate  il  volto,  indovinate  le  voglie,  ambite 
!e  grazie,  non  vi  farete  pregar  tanto  a  concederglie- 
Io.  E  poi  vi  fate  pregar  tanto  da  un  Dio  per  voi 
crocefisso  'I  O  confusione  !  O  vitupero  !  O  ver- 
gogna !— Raccolta  di  Prose  Italiane  (in  Classic! 
Italiani),  vol.  ii.,  p.  345. 

This  is  certainly  not  the  manner  of  Bossuet,  and 
more  like  that  of  a  third-rate  Methodist  among  us. 

*  Thus,  in  his  sermon  against  evil  speaking 
(xvi.),  Barrow  treats  it  as  fil  "  for  rustic  boors,  or 
men  of  coarsest  education  and  employment,  who, 
having  their  minds  debased  by  being  conversant  in 
meanest  affairs,  do  vent  their  sorry  passions  and 
bicker  about  their  petty  concernments  in  such 
strains ;  who  also,  not  being  capable  of  a  fair  repu- 
tation, or  sensible  of  disgrace  to  themselves,  do  lit- 
tle value  the  credit  of  others,  or  care  for  aspersing 
it.  But  such  language  is  unworthy  of  those  per- 
sons, and  canrioc  easily  be  drawn  from  them  who 
are  wont  to  exercise  their  thoughts  about  nobler 
matters,"  &c.  No  one  would  venture  this  now 
from  the  pulpit. 


FROM  1650  TO  1700. 


297 


therein.  Bam  w's  language  is  more  anti- 
quated and  formal  than  that  of  his  age  ; 
and  he  abounds  too  much  in  uncommon 
words  of  Latin  derivation,  frequently  sucli 
as  appear  to  have  no  authority  but  his  own. 

57.  South's  sermons  begin,  in  order  of 
South  ^ate'  Before    *he   Restoration,   and 

come  down  to  nearly  the  end  of  the 
century.  They  were  much  celebrated  at 
the  time,  and  retain  a  portion  of  their  re- 
nown. This  is  by  no  means  surprising. 
South  had  great  qualifications  for  that  pop- 
ularity which  attends  the  pulpit,  and  his 
manner  was  at  that  time  original.  Not 
diffuse,  not  learned,  not  formal  in  argu- 
ment like  Barrow,  with  a  more  natural 
structure  of  sentences,  a  more  pointed, 
though  by  no  means  a  more  fair  and  sat- 
isfactory turn  of  reasoning  ;  with  a  style 
clear  and  English,  free  from  all  pedantry, 
but  abounding  witli  those  colloquial  nov- 
elties of  idiom  which,  though  now  become 
vulgar  and  offensive,  the  age  of  Charles 
II.  affected  :  sparing  no  personal  or  tem- 
porary sarcasm,  but,  if  he  seems  for  a 
moment  to  tread  on  the  verge  of  buffoon- 
ery, recovering  himself  by  some  stroke  of 
vigorous  sense  and  language  ;  such  was 
the  witty  Dr.  South,  whom  the  courtiers 
delighted  to  hear.  His  sermons  want  all 
that  is  called  unction,  and  sometimes  even 
earnestness,  which  is  owing,  in  a  great 
measure,  to  a  perpetual  tone  of  gibing  at 
rebels  and  fanatics  ;  but  there  is  a  mascu- 
line spirit  about  them  which,  combined 
with  their  peculiar  characteristics,  would 
naturally  fill  the  churches  where  he  might 
be  heard.  South  appears  to  bend  towards 
the  Arminian  theology,  without  adopting 
so  much  of  it  as  some  of  his  contempora- 
ries. 

58.  The  sermons  of  Tillotson  were  for 

ha^  a  centUT7  more  read  than  any 
in  our  language.  They  are  now 
bought  almost  as  waste  paper,  and  hardly 
read  at  all.  Such  is  the  fickleness  of  re- 
ligious taste,  as  abundantly  numerous  in- 
stances would  prove.  Tillotson  is  reck- 
oned verbose  and  languid.  He  has  not 
the  former  defect  in  nearly  so  great  a  de- 
gree as  some  of  his  eminent  predeces- 
sors ;  but  there  is  certainly  little  vigour  or 
vivacity  in  his  style.  Full  of  the  Romish 
controversy,  he  is  perpetually  recurring  to 
that  "  world's  debate  :"  and  he  is  not  much 
less  hostile  to  all  the  Calvinistic  tenets. 
What  is  most  remarkable  in  the  theology 
of  Tillotson  is  his  strong  assertion,  in  al- 
most all  his  sermons,  of  the  principles  of 
natural  religion  and  morality,  not  only  as 
the  basis  of  all  revelation,  without  a  de- 
pendance  on  which  it  cannot  be  believed, 
but  as  nearly  coincident  with  Christianity 
VOL.  II.—  P  P 


Tiiiotson 


in  its  extent,  a  length  to  which  few  at  pres- 
ent would  be  ready  to  follow  him.  Til- 
lotson is  always  of  a  tolerant  and  catholic 
spirit,  enforcing  right  actions  rather  than 
orthodox  opinions,  and  obnoxious,  for  that 
and  other  reasons,  to  all  the  bigots  of  his 
own  age. 

59.  It  has  become  necessary  to  draw 
towards  a  conclusion  of  this  chap-  Expository 
ter;  the  materials  are  far  from  Theology, 
being  exhausted.     In  expository,  or,  as 
some  call  it,  exegetical  theology,  the  Eng- 
lish divines  had  already  taken  a  conspicu- 
ous station.     Andres,  no  partial  estimator 
of  Protestant  writers,  extols  them  with 
marked  praise.*    Those  who  belonged  to 
the  earlier  part  of  the  century  form  a  por- 
tion of  a  vast  collection,  the  Critici  Sacri, 
published  by  one  Bee,  a  bookseller,  in 
1660.     This  was  in  nine  folio  volumes ; 
and  in  1669,  Matthew  Pool,  a  nonconform- 
ing  minister,  produced  his  Synopsis  Crit- 
icorum,  in  five  volumes,  being  in  great 
measure  an  abridgment  and  digest  of  the 
former.     Bee  complained  of  the  infraction 
of  his  copyright,  or,  rather,  his  equitable 
interest ;  but  such  a  dispute  hardly  per- 
tains to  our  history. f    The  work  of  Pool 
was  evidently  a  more  original  labour  than 
the  former.     Hammond,  Patrick,  and  oth- 
er commentators  do  honour  to  the  Angli- 
can Church  in  the  latter  part  of  the  cen- 
tury. 

60.  Pearson's  Exposition  of  the  Apos- 
tles' Creed,  published  in  1659,  is  Pearson  on 
a  standard  book  in  English  divin-  lhc  treed 
ity.     It  expands  beyond  the  literal  purport 
of  the  creed  itself  to  most  articles  of  or- 
thodox belief,  and  is  a  valuable  summary 
of  arguments  and  authorities  on  that  side. 
The  closeness  of  Pearson,  and  his  judi- 
cious selection  of  proofs,  distinguish  him 
from  many,  especially  "the  earlier,  theo- 
logians.    Some  might  surmise  that  his  un- 
deviating  adherence  to  what  he  calls  tho 
Church  is  hardly  consistent  with  inde- 
pendence of  thinking  ;  but,  considered  as 
an  advocate,  he  is  one  of  much  judgment 
and  skill.     Such  men  as  Pearson  and  Stil 
lingfleet  would  have  been  conspicuous  at 
the  bar,  which  we  could  not  quite  affirm 
of  Jeremy  Taylor. 

61.  Simon,  a  regular  priest  of  the  con- 
gregation   called    The    Oratory,  Simon's 
which  has  been  rich  in  eminent  tj"ticai 
men,  owes  much  of  his  fame  to 

his  Critical  History  of  the  Old  Testament 
This  work,  bold  in  many  of  its  positions 


*  I  soli  Inglesi,  cho  ampio  spazio  non  dovrebbono 
oecmiare  in  questo  capo  dell'  esegetica  sacra,  se 
1'  istituto  dclla  nostr'  opera  ci  permettesse  tener 
dietro  a  tmti  i  piO  degni  della  nostra  stima?— VoL 
xix.,  p.  253.  t  Chalmers 


298 


LITERATURE  OF 


as  it  then  seemed  to  both  the  Catholic  and 
Protestant  orthodox,  after  being  nearly 
strangled  by  Bossuet  in  France,  appeared 
at  Rotterdam  in  1685.  Bossuet  attacked 
it  with  extreme  vivacity,  but  with  a  real 
inferiority  to  Simon  both  in  learning  and 
candour.*  Le  Clerc,  on  his  side,  carped 
more  at  the  Critical  History  than  it  seems 
to  deserve.  Many  paradoxes,  as  they 
then  were  called,  in  this  famous  work  are 
now  received  as  truth,  or,  at  least,  pass 
without  reproof.  Simon  may  possibly  be 
too  prone  to  novelty  ;  but  a  love  of  truth, 
as  well  as  great  acuteness,  are  visible 
throughout.  His  Critical  History  of  the 
New  Testament  was  published  in  1689, 
and  one  or  two  more  works  of  a  similar 
description  before  the  close  of  the  century. 
62.  I  have  on  a  former  occasion  advert- 
ed, in  a  corresponding  chapter,  to  publica- 
tions on  witchcraft  and  similar  supersti- 
tions. Several  might  be  mentioned  at 
this  time  ;  the  belief  in  such  tales  was  as- 
sailed by  a  prevalent  skepticism  which 
called  out  their  advocates.  Of  these,  the 
most  unworthy  to  have  exhibited  their 
great  talents  in  such  a  cause  were  our  own 
philosophers  Henry  More  and  Joseph 
Glanvil.  The  Sadducismus  Triumphatus, 
or  Treatise  on  Apparitions,  by  the  lat- 


ter, has  passed  through  several  editions, 
while  his  Scepsis  Scientifica  has  hardly 
been  seen,  perhaps,  by  six  living  persons. 
A  Dutch  minister,  by  name  Bekker,  raised 
a  great  clamour  against  himself  by  a  down- 
right denial  of  all  power  to  the  devil,  and, 
consequently,  to  his  supposed  instruments, 
the  ancient  beldams  of  Holland  and  other 
countries.  His  Monde  Enchante,  origi- 
nally published  in  Dutch,  is  in  four  vol- 
umes, written  in  a  systematic  manner,  and 
with  tedious  prolixity.  There  was  no 
ground  for  imputing  infidelity  to  the  au- 
thor, except  the  usual  ground  of  calumni- 
ating every  one  who  quits  the  beaten  path 
in  theology ;  but  his  explanations  of  Scrip- 
ture in  the  case  of  the  demoniacs  and  the 
like  are,  as  usual  with  those  who  have 
taken  the  same  line,  rather  forced.  The 
fourth  volume,  which  contains  several  cu- 
rious stories  of  imagined  possession,  and 
some  which  resemble  what  is  now  called 
magnetism,  is  the  only  part  of  Bekker's 
once  celebrated  book  that  can  be  read 
with  any  pleasure.  Bekker  was  a  Carte- 
sian, and  his  theory  was  built  too  much 
on  Cartesian  assumptions  of  the  impossi- 
bility of  spirit  acting  on  body,  which  are 
easily  parried  by  denying  his  inference 
i  from  them. 


CHAPTER  III. 


HISTORY    OF    SPECULATIVE    PHILOSOPHY    FROM    1650    TO    1700. 


Aristotelians. — Logicians. — Cud  worth. — Sketch  of 
the  Philosophy  of  Gassendi.—  Carlesianism. — 
Port-Royal  Logic. — Analysis  of  the  Search  for 
Truth  of  Malebranche,  and  of  the  Ethics  of 
Spinosa.— Glanvil.— Locke's  Essay  on  the  Hu- 
man Understanding. 

1.  THE  Aristotelian  and  scholastic  met- 
Aristoteiian  aphysics,  though  shaken  on  ev- 
metapnysics.  ery  si(je)  anc[  especially  by  the 
rapid  progress  of  the  Cartesian  theories, 
had  not  lost  their  hold  over  the  theolo- 
gians of  the  Roman  Church,  or  even  the 
Protestant  universities,  at  the  beginning 
of  this  period,  and  hardly  at  its  close. 
Brucker  enumerates  several  writers  of 
that  class  in  Germany  ;f  and  we  find,  as 
late  as  1693,  a  formal  injunction  by  the 
Sorbonne,  that  none  who  taught  philoso- 


*  Defense  de  la  Tradition  des  Saints  Peres. 
CEuvres  de  Bossuet,  vol.  v.,  and  instructions  sur  la 
Version  du  N.  T.,  imprimee  a  Trevoux,  Id.,  vol.  iv., 
313.  Bausset,  Vie  de  Bossuet,  iv.,  276. 

t  Vol.  iv.  See  his  long  and  laborious  chapter  on 
the  Aristotelian  philosophers  of  the  sixteenth  and 
seventeenth  centuries  :  no  one  else  seems  to  have 
done  more  than  copy  Brucker. 


phy  in  the  colleges  under  its  jurisdiction 
should  introduce  any  novelties,  or  swerve 
from  the  Aristotelian  doctrine.*  The  Jes- 
uits, rather  unfortunately  for  their  credit, 
distinguished  themselves  as  strenuous  ad- 
vocates of  the  old  philosophy,  and  thus 
lost  the  advantage  they  had  obtained  in 
philology  as  enemies  of  barbarous  preju- 
dice, and  encouragers  of  a  progressive 
spirit  in  their  disciples.  Rapin,  one  of 
their  most  accomplished  men,  after  speak- 
ing with  little  respect  of  the  Novum  Or- 
ganum,  extols  the  disputations  of  the 
schools  as  the  best  method  in  the  educa- 
tion of  young  men,  who,  as  he  fancies, 


*  Cum  relatum  esset  ad  Societatem  (Sorboni- 
cam)  nonnullos  philosophise  professores,  ex  iia 
etiam  aliquando  qui  ad  Societatem  anhelant,  novas 
quasdam  doctrinas  in  philosophicis  sectari,  mi- 
nusque  Aristotelicae  doctrinae  stuciere,  quatn  hac 
tenus  usurpatum  fuerit  in  Academia  Parisiensi, 
censuit  Societas  injungendum  esse  illis,  imo  et  iis 
qui  docent  philosophiam  in  collegiis  suo  regimini 
creditis,  ne  deinceps  ncvitatibus  studeant,  aut  ab 
Aristotelica  doctrina  deflectant,  31  Dec.,  1693. — 
Argentre,  Collectio  Judiciorum,  iii.,  150. 


FROM  1650  TO  1700. 


299 


havt)  too  little  experience  to  delight  in 
physical  science.* 

2.  It  is  a  difficult  and  dangerous  choice, 
Th  .  .    in  a  new  state  of  public  opinion  (and 
ciine.       we  have  to  make  it  at  present), 
Thomas  between   that   which   may   itself 

Me'  pass  away,  and  that  which  must 
efface  what  has  gone  before.  Those 
who  clung  to  the  ancient  philosophy  be- 
lieved that  Bacon  and  Descartes  were  the 
idols  of  a  transitory  fashion,  and  that  the 
wisdom  of  long  ages  would  regain  its  as- 
cendancy. They  were  deceived,  and  their 
own  reputation  has  been  swept  off  with 
the  systems  to  which  they  adhered. 
Thomas  White,  an  English  Catholic 
priest,  whose  Latin  appellation  is  Albius, 
endeavoured  to  maintain  the  Aristotelian 
metaphysics  and  the  scholastic  terminolo- 
gy in  several  works,  and  especially  in  an 
attack  upon  Glanvil's  Vanity  of  Dogma- 
tizing. This  book,  entitled  Sciri,  I  know 
only  through  Glanvil's  reply  in  his  second 
edition,  by  which  White  appears  to  be  a 
mere  Aristotelian.  He  was  a  friend  of 
Sir  Kenelm  Digby,  who  was  himself, 
though  a  man  of  considerable  talents,  in- 
capable of  disentangling  his  mind  from 
the  Peripatetic  hypotheses.  The  power 
of  words,  indeed,  is  so  great ;  the  illusions 
of  what  is  called  realism,  or  of  believing 
that  general  terms  have  an  objective  ex- 
terior being,  are  so  natural,  and  especially 
so  bound  up  both  with  our  notions  of  es- 
sential, especially  theological,  truth,  and 
with  our  popular  language,  that  no  man 
could  in  that  age  be  much  censured  for  not 
casting  off  his  fetters,  even  when  he  had 
heard  the  call  to  liberty  from  some  mod- 
ern voices.  We  find  that,  even  after  two 
centuries  of  a  better  method,  many  are  al- 
ways ready  to  fall  back  into  a  verbal  pro- 
cess of  theorizing. 

3.  Logic  was  taught  in  the  Aristotelian 

method,  or,  rather,  in  one  which, 
gic'  with  some  change  for  the  worse, 
had  been  gradually  founded  upon  it.  Bur- 
gersdicius,  in  this  and  in  other  sciences, 
seems  to  have  been  in  repute  ;  Smigle- 
cius  also  is  mentioned  with  praise. t 


*•  Reflexions  sur  la  Poetique,  p.  368.  He  ad- 
mits, however,  that  to  introduce  more  experiment 
and  observation  would  be  an  improvement.  Du 
reste  il  y  a  apparence  que  les  loix,  qui  ne  souffrent 
point  d'innovation  dans  1'usage  des  choses  univer- 
spllement  ctablies,  n'autorisercnt  point  d'autre  me- 
thode  que  celle  qui  est  aujourd'hui  en  usage  dans 
les  universites  ;  afin  de  ne  pas  donner  trop  de  li- 
cence a  la  passion  qu'on  a  naturellernent  pour  les 
nouvelles  opinions,  dont  le  cours  est  d'une  dan- 
gereuse  consequence  dans  un  £tat  bien  regie  ;  vu 
particulierement  que  la  philosophic  est  un  des  or- 
ganes  dont  se  sert  la  religion  pour  s'expliquer  dans 
ses  decisions. 

t  La  Logique  de  Smiglecius,  says  Rapin,  est 


These  lived  both  in  the  former  part  of 
the  century.  But  they  were  superseded, 
at  least  in  England,  by  Wallis,  whose  In- 
stitutio  Logics  ad  Communes  Usus  Ac- 
commodata  was  published  in  1687.  He 
claims,  as  an  improvement  upon  the  re- 
ceived system,  the  classifying  singular 
propositions  among  universals.*  Ramus 
had  made  a  third  class  of  them,  and  in 
this  he  seems  to  have  been  generally  fol- 
lowed. Aristotle,  though  it  does  not  ap- 
pear that  he  is  explicit  on  the  subject, 
does  not  rank  them  as  particular.  That 
Wallis  is  right  cannot  be  doubted  by  any 
one  who  reflects  at  all ;  but  his  originality 
we  must  not  assert.  The  same  had  been 
perceived  by  the  authors  of  the  Port- 
Royal  Logic;  a  work  to  which  he  has 
made  no  allusion. f  Wallis  claims  also 
as  his  own  the  method  of  reducing  hypo- 
thetical to  categorical  syllogisms,  and 
proves  it  elaborately  in  a  separate  disser- 
tation. A  smaller  treatise,  still  much 
used  at  Oxford,  by  Aldrich,  Compendium 
Artis  Logicae,  1691,  is  clear  and  concise, 
but  seems  tp  contain  nothing  very  impor- 
tant ;  and  he  alludes  to  the  Art  de  Penser 
in  a  tone  of  insolence,  which  must  rouse 
indignation  in  those  who  are  acquainted 
with  that  excellent  work.  Aldrich's  cen- 
sures are,  in  many  instances,  mere  cavil 
and  misrepresentation ;  I  do  not  know 
that  they  are  right  in  any.J  Of  the  Art 


un  bel  ouvrage.  The  same  writer  proceeds  to  ob- 
serve that  the  Spaniards  of  the  preceding:  century 
lia'l  corrupted  logic  by  their  subtleties.  En  se  jet 
tant  dans  des  speculations  creuses  qui  n'avoient 
rien  de  reel,  leur  philosophies  trouverent  1'art  d'avoir 
de  la  raison  malgre  le  bon  sens,  et  de  donner  de  la 
coule'ur,  et  me'me  je  ne  scai  quoi  de  specieuse,  a  ce 
qui  eloit  de  plus  deraisonnable,  p.  382.  But  this 
must  have  been  rather  the  fault  of  their  metaphys- 
ics than  of  what  is  strictly  called  logic. 

*  Atque  hoc  signanter  notatum  velim,quia  novus 
forte  hie  videar,  et  prater  aliorurn  loquendi  forrnu- 
lam  hsec  dicere.  Nam  plerique  logici  propositio- 
nem  quam  vocant  singularem,  hoc  est,  de  subjecto 
individuo  sivc  singulari,  pro  particular!  haberit,  non 
universal!.  Sed  perperam  hoc  faciunt,  et  praeter 
mentem  Aristotelis  (qui,  quantum  memini,  nun- 
quam  ejusmodi  singularem,  rqv  nara  pcpos  appellat 
ant  pro  talihabet);  et  prater  rei  naiuram  :  Non 
enim  hie  agitur  de  particularitate  snbjecti  (quod 
aTOfiov  vocal  Aristotelis,  non  Kara  pcpcs)  sed  de  par- 

tialitate  praedicatioms Neque  ego  interim  no- 

vator  censendus  sum  qui  ha-c  dixerim,  sed  illi  po- 
tius  novfrtores  qui  ab  Aristotelicadoctrina  recesse- 
rint ;  eoque  multa  introduxerint  inconunuda  de 
quibus  suo  loco  dicetur,  p.  125.  He  has  afterward 
a  separate  dissertation  or  thesis  to  prove  this  more 
at  length.  It  seems  that  the  Ramists  held  a  third 
class  of  propositions,  neither  universal  nor  particu- 
lar, to  which  they  gave  the  name  of  prcpria,  equiv- 
alent to  singular. 

t  Art  de  Penser,  part  ii.,  chap.  iii. 

j  One  of  Aldrich's  charges  against  the  author  of 
the  Art  de  Penser  is,  that  he  brings  forward  as  a 
great  discovery  the  equality  of  the  angles  of  a 


300 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


de  Penser  itself  we  shall  have  something 
to  say  in  the  course  of  this  chapter. 

4.  Before  we  proceed  to  those  whose 
Stanley's     philosophy  may  be  reckoned  ori- 
History  of    ginal,  or,  at  least,  modern,  a  very 
Philosophy.  j-ew  <jeserve  mention  who  have 
endeavoured  to  maintain  or  restore  that 
of  antiquity.     Stanley's  History  of  Phi- 
losophy, in  1655,  is  in  great  measure  con- 
fined to  biography,  and  comprehends  no 
name  later  than  Carneades.     Most  is  de- 
rived  from   Diogenes   Laertius ;    but   an 
analysis  of   the   Platonic    philosophy  is 
given  from  Alcinous,  and  the  author  has 
compiled  one  of  the  Peripatetic  system 
from  Aristotle  himself.     The  doctrine  of 
the   Stoics   is  also   elaborately    deduced 
from  various   sources.     Stanley,  on  the 
whole,  brought  a  good  deal  from  an  al- 
most untrodden  field  :  but  he  is  merely  an 
historian,  and  never  a  critic  of  philosophy. 
He  does  not  mention  Epicurus  at  all,  prob- 
ably because  Gassendi  had  so  well  written 
that  philosopher's  life. 

5.  Gale's  Court  of  the  Gentiles,  partly 
Gale's  court  m  1669  and  partly  in  later  years, 
of  the  Gen-  is  incomparably  a  more  learned 

work  than  that  of  Stanley.  Its 
aim  is  to  prove  that  all  heathen  philoso- 
phy, whether  Barbaric  or  Greek,  was  bor- 
rowed from  the  Scriptures,  or,  at  least, 
from  the  Jews.  The  first  part  is  entitled 
Of  Philology,  which  traces  the  same  lead- 
ing principle  by  means  of  language  ;  the 
second,  Of  Philosophy ;  the  third  treats 
of  the  Vanity  of  Philosophy,  and  the  fourth 
of  Reformed  Philosophy,  ';  wherein  Pla- 
to's moral  and  metaphysic  or  prime  phi- 
losophy is  reduced  to  a  useful  form  and 
method."  Gale  has  been  reckoned  among 
Platonic  philosophers,  and,  indeed,  he  pro- 
fesses to  find  a  great  resemblance  between 
the  philosophy  of  Plato  and  his  own,  But 
he  is  a  determined  Calvinist  in  all  respects, 
and  scruples  not  to  say,  "  Whatever  God 
wills  is  just,  because  he  wills  it ;"  and 
again,  "  God  willeth  nothing  without  him- 
self because  it  is  just,  but  it  is  therefore 
just  because  he  willeth  it.  The  reasons 
of  good  and  evil  extrinsic  to  the  divine 
essence  are  all  dependant  on  the  divine 
will,  either  decernent  or  legislative."*  It 
is  not  likely  that  Plato  would  have  ac- 
knowledged such  a  disciple. 

6.  A  much  more  eminent  and  enlighten- 
ed man  than  Gale,  Ralph  Cudworth,  by 


chiliagon  to  1996  right  angles ;  and  another  is,  that 
he  gives  as  an  example  of  a  regular  syllogism  one 
that  has  obviously  five  terms  ;  thus  expecting  the 
Oxford  students,  for  whom  he  wrole,  to  believe  that 
Antony  Arnauld  neither  knew  the  first  book  of  Eu- 
clid, nor  the  mere  rudiments  of  common  logic. 
*  Part  iv.,  p.  339. 


his  Intellectual  System  of  the  cudworth'a 
Universe,  published  in  1678,  but  lutdiectuai 
written  several  years  before,  ^y^61"- 
placed  himself  in  a  middle  point  between 
the  declining  and  rising  schools  of  philos- 
ophy ;  more  independent  of  authority,  and 
more  close,  perhaps,  in  argument  than  the 
former,  but  more  prodigal  of  learning, 
more  technical  of  language,  and  less  con- 
versant with  analytical  and  inductive  pro- 
cesses of  reasoning  than  the  latter.  Upon 
the  whole,  however,  he  belongs  to  the 
school  of  antiquity,  and  probably  his  wish 
was  to  be  classed  with  it.  Cudworth  was 
one  of  those  whom  Hobbes  had  roused  by 
the  atheistic  and  immoral  theories  of  the 
Leviathan ;  nor  did  any  antagonist,  per- 
haps,  of  that  philosopher  bring  a  more 
vigorous  understanding  to  the  combat. 
This  understanding  was  not  so  much  ob- 
structed in  its  own  exercise  by  a  vast 
erudition,  as  it  was  sometimes  concealed 
by  it  from  the  reader.  Cudworth  has 
passed  more  for  a  recorder  of  ancient  phi- 
losophy than  for  one  who  might  stand  in 
a  respectable  class  among  philosophers; 
and  his  work,  though  long,  being  unfinish- 
ed, as  well  as  full  of  digression,  its  object 
has  not  been  fully  apprehended. 

7.  This   object   was   to    establish   the 
liberty  of  human  actions  against 

the  fatalists.  Of  these  he  lays  it 
down  that  there  are  three  kinds,  the  first 
atheistic;  the  second  admitting  a  Deity, 
but  one  acting  necessarily  and  without 
moral  perfections;  the  third  granting  the 
moral  attributes  of  God,  but  asserting  all 
human  actions  to  be  governed  by  neces- 
sary laws  which  he  has  ordained.  The 
first  book  of  the  Intellectual  System,  which 
alone  is  extant,  relates  wholly  to  the 
proofs  of  the  existence  of  a  Deity  against 
the  atheistic  fatalists,  his  moral  nature 
being  rarely  or  never  touched ;  so  that  the 
greater  and  more  interesting  part  of  the 
work,  for  the  sake  of  which  the  author 
projected  it,  was  never  written,  unless  we 
take  for  fragments  of  it  some  writings 
of  the  author  preserved  in  the  British 
Museum. 

8.  The  first  chapter  contains  an  account 
of  the  ancient  corpuscular  phi- 
losophy,  which,  till  corrupted  by  s 
Leucippus    and    Democritus,    Cudworth 
takes  to  have  been  not  only  theistic,  but 
more  consonant  to  theistic  principles  than 
any  other.    These  two,  however,  brought 
in  a  fatalism  grounded  on  their  own  atomic 
theory.     In  the  second  chapter  he  states 
very  fully  and  fairly  all  their  arguments, 
or,  rather,  all  that  have  ever  been  adduced 
on  the  atheistic  side.     In  the  third  he  ex- 
patiates on  the  hylozoic  atheism,  as  he 


FROM  1G50  TO  1700. 


301 


calls  it,  of  Strato,  which  accounts  the 
world  to  be  animated  in  all  its  parts,  but 
without  a  single  controlling  intelligence, 
and  adverts  to  another  hypothesis,  which 
gives  a  vegetable  but  not  sentient  life  to 
the  world. 

9.  This  leads  Cudworth  to  his  own  fa- 
His  plastic  mous  theory  of  a  plastic  nature, 
nature.       a  device  to  account  for  the  opera- 
tions of  physical  laws  without  the  con- 
tinued agency  of  the  Deity.    Of  this  plas- 
tic energy  he  speaks  in  rather  a  confused 
and   indefinite   manner,  giving  it  in  one 
place  a  sort  of  sentient  life,  or  what  he 
calls  "  a  drowsy,  unawakened  cogitation," 
and  always  treating  it  as  an  entity  or  real 
being.     This  language  of  Cudworth,  and, 
indeed,  the  whole  hypothesis  of  a  plastic 
nature,  was  unable  to  stand  the  searching 
eye  of  Bayle,  who,  in  an  article  of  his 
dictionary,  pointed  out  its  unphilosophical 
and  dangerous   assumptions.     Le    Clerc 
endeavoured  to  support  Cudworth  against 
Bayle,  but  with  little  success.*     It  has 
had,  however,  some  partisans,  though  rath- 
er among  physiologists  than  metaphysi- 
cians.    Grew  adopted  it  to  explain  vege- 
tation; and  the  plastic  nature  differs  only, 
as  I  conceive,  from  what  Hunter  and  Aber- 
nethy  have  called  life  in  organized  bodies 
by  its  more  extensive  agency ;  for  if  we 
are  to  believe  that  there  is  a  vital  power, 
not  a  mere  name  for  the  sequence  of  phae- 
nomena,  which  marshals  the  molecules  of 
animal  and  vegetable  substance,  we  can 
see  no  reason  why  a  similar  energy  should 
not  determine  other  molecules  to  assume 
geometrical  figures  in  crystallization.  The 
error  or  paradox  consists  in  assigning  a 
real  unity  of  existence,  and  a  real  power 
of  causation,  to  that  which  is  unintelligent. 

10.  The  fourth  chapter  of  the  Intellec- 
ts account  tual  System,  of  vast  length,  and 
of  old  phiios-  occupying  half  the  entire  work, 
ophy.  launches  into  a  sea  of  old  philos- 
ophy, in  order  to  show  the  unity  of  a  su- 
preme God  to  have  been  a  general  belief 
of  antiquity.    "  In  this  fourth  chapter,"  he 
says,  "  we  are  necessitated  by  the  matter 
itself  to  run  out  into  philology  and  anti- 
quity, as  also  in  the  other  parts  of  the 
book  we  do  often  give  an  account  of  the 
doctrine  of  the  ancients ;  which,  however, 
some  over-severe  philosophers  may  look 
upon  fastidiously,  or  undervalue  and  de- 
preciate ;  yet,  as  we  conceived  it  often 
necessary,  so,  possibly,  may  the  variety 
thereof  not  be  ungrateful  to  others,  and 
this  mixture  of  philology  throughout  the 
whole  sweeten  and  allay  the  severity  of 
philosophy  to  them  ;  the  main  thing  which 

*  Bibliotheque  Choisie,  vol.  v. 


|  the  book  pretends  to,  in  the  mean  time, 

being  the  philosophy  of  religion.     But, 

!  for  our  part,  we  neither  call  philology, 

j  nor  yet  philosophy,  our  mistress,  but  serve 

ourselves  of  either  as  occasion  requireth."* 

11.  The  whole  fourth  chapter  may  be 
reckoned  one  great  episode,  and,  as  it  con- 
tains a  store  of  useful  knowledge  on  an- 
cient philosophy,  it  has  not  only   been 
more  read  than  the  remaining  part  of  the 
Intellectual    System,  but   has    been   the 
cause,  in  more  than  one  respect,  that  the 
work  has  been  erroneously  judged.    Thus 
Cudworth  has   been  reckoned,  by  very 
respectable   authorities,  in   th*  Platonic 
school  of  philosophers,  and  even  in  that 
of  the  later  Platonists ;  for  which  I  per- 
ceive little  other  reason  than  that  he  has 
gone  diffusely  into  a  supposed  resemblance 
between  the  Platonic  and  Christian  Trin- 
ity.    Whether  we  agree  with  him  in  this 
or  no,  the  subject  is  insulated,  and  belongs 
only  to  the  history  of  theological  opinion; 
in  Cudworth's  own  philosophy  he  appears 
to  be  an  eclectic,  not  the  vassal  of  Plato, 
Plotinus,  or  Aristotle,  though  deeply  versed 
in  them  all. 

12.  Of  the  fifth  and  last  chapter  of  the 
first  and  only  book  of  the  Intel-  „ 

i  i  c~i  r~,  i  "\a  argu- 

lectual  System,  Cudworth.  revert-  ments 
ing  to  the  various  atheistical  ar-  a^ai||S' 
guments  which  he  had  stated  in  "' 
the  second  chapter,  answers  them  at  great 
length,  and,  though  not  without  much  eru- 
dition, perhaps  more  than  was  requisite, 
yet.  depending  chiefly  on  his  own  stores 
of  reasoning.  And  inasmuch  as  even  a 
second-rate  philosopher  ranks  higher  in 
literary  precedence  than  the  most  learned 
reporter  of  other  men's  doctrine,  it  may 
be  unfortunate  for  Cudworth's  reputation 
that  he  consumed  so  much  time  in  the 
preceding  chapter  upon  mere  learning, 
even  though  that  should  be  reckoned  more 
useful  and  valuable  than  his  own  reason- 
ings. These,  however,  are  frequently  val- 
uable, and,  as  I  have  intimated  above,  he 
is  partially  tinctured  by  the  philosophy  of 
his  own  generation,  while  he  endeavours 
to  tread  in  the  ancient  paths.  Yet  he 
seems  not  aware  of  the  place  which  Ba- 
con, Descartes,  and  Gassendi  were  to 
hold ;  and  not  only  names  them  sometimes 
with  censure,  hardly  with  praise,  but  most 
inexcusably  throws  out  several  intimations 
that  they  had  designedly  served  the  cause 
of  atheism.  The  disposition  of  the  two 
former  to  slight  the  argument  from  final 
causes,  though  it  might  justly  be  animad- 
verted irpon,  could  not  warrant  this  most 
uncandid  and  untrue  aspersion.  But  jus- 


Preface,  p.  37. 


302 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


lice  was  even-handed  ;  Cudworth  himself 
did  not  escape  the  slander  of  bigots ;  it 
was  idly  said  by  Dryden,  that  he  had  put 
the  arguments  against  a  Deity  so  well,  that 
some  thought  he  had  not  answered  them  ; 
and,  if  Warburton  may  be  believed,  the 
remaining  part  of  the  Intellectual  System 
was  never  published,  on  account  of  the 
world's  malignity  in  judging  of  the  first.* 
Probably  it  was  never  written. 

13.  Cudworth  is  too  credulous  and  un- 
critical about  ancient  writings,  defending 
all  as  genuine,  even  where  his  own  age 
had  been  skeptical.     His  terminology  is 
stiff  and  pedantic,  as  is  the  case  with  all 
our  older  metaphysicians,  abounding  in 
words  which   the  English  language  has 
not  recognised.     He  is  full  of  the  ancients, 
but  rarely  quotes  the  schoolmen.     Hobbes 
is  the  adversary  with  whom  he  most  grap- 
ples ;  the  materialism,  the  resolving  all 
ideas  into  sensation,  the  low  morality  of 
that  writer,  were  obnoxious  to  the  ani- 
madversion of  so  strenuous  an  advocate  of 
a  more  elevated  philosophy.     In  some  re- 
spects Cudworth  has,  as  I  conceive,  much 
the  advantage  ;  in  others,  he  will  general- 
ly be  thought  by  our  metaphysicians  to 
want  precision  and  logical  reasoning  ;  and, 
upon  the  whole,  we  must  rank  him,  in 
philosophical  acumen,  far  below  Hobbes, 
Malebranche,  and    Locke,   but    also    far 
above  any  mere  Aristotelians,  or  retailers 
of  Scotus  and  Aquinas. 

14.  Henry  More,  though  by  no  means 
More  ^ess  errnnent  tnan  Cudworth  in  his 

own  age,  ought  not  to  be  placed  on 
the  same  level.  More  fell  not  only  into 
the  mystical  notions  of  the  later  Plato- 
nists,  but  even  of  the  Cabalistic  writers. 
His  metaphysical  philosophy  was  bor- 
rowed in  great  measure  from  them ;  and 
though  he  was  in  correspondence  with 
Descartes,  and  enchanted  with  the  new 
views  that  opened  upon  him,  yet  we  find 
that  he  was  reckoned  much  less  of  a  Car- 
tesian afterward,  and  even  wrote  against 
parts  of  the  theory.f  The  most  peculiar 
tenet  of  More  was  the  extension  of  spirit ; 
acknowledging  and  even  striving  for  the 
soul's  immortality,  he  still  could  not  con- 
ceive it  to  be  unextended.  Yet  it  seems 
evident  that  if  we  give  extension  as  well 
as  figure,  which  is  implied  in  finite  exten- 


*  Warburton's  preface  to  Divine  Legation,  vol.  ii. 

•f  Baillet,  Vie  de  Descartes,  liv.  vii.  It  must  be 
observed  that  More  never  wholly  agreed  with  Des- 
cartes. Thus  they  differed  about  the  omnipresence 
of  the  Deity  ;  Descartes  thought  that  he  was  par- 
tout  a  raison  de  sa  puissance,  et  qu'a  raison  de  son 
essence  il  n'a  absolument  aucune  relation  au  lieu. 
More,  who  may  be  called  a  lover  of  extension, 
maintained  a  strictly  local  presence.— CEuvres  de 
Descartes,  vol.  x.,  p.  239. 


sion,  to  the  single  self-conscious  monad, 
qualities  as  heterogeneous  to  thinking  as 
material  impenetrability  itself,  we  shall 
find  it  in  vain  to  deny  the  possibility  at 
least  of  the  latter.  Some  indeed  might 
question  whether  what  we  call  matter  is 
any  real  being  at  all,  except  as  extension 
under  peculiar  conditions.  But  this  con- 
jecture need  not  here  be  pressed. 

15.  Gassendi  himself,  by  the  extensive- 
ness  of  his  erudition,  may  be  said  Gassendi 
to  have  united  the  two  schools  of 
speculative  philosophy,  the  historical  and 
the  experimental,  though  the  character  of 
his  mind  determined  him  far  more  towards 
the  latter.  He  belongs  in  point  of  time 
rather  to  the  earlier  period  of  the  century  ; 
but  his  Syntagma  Philosophicum  having 
been  published  in  1658,  we  have  defer- 
red the  review  of  it  to  the  present  period. 
This  posthumous  work,  in  two  volumes 
folio,  and  nearly  1600  pages  closely  print- 
ed in  double  columns,  is  divided  into  three 
parts,  the  Logic,  the  Physics,  and  the 
Ethics  ;  the  second  occupying  more  than 
five  sixths  of  the  whole.  The  ,. 
Logic  is  introduced  by  two  prooe- 
mial  books ;  one  containing  a  history  of 
the  science  from  Zeno  of  Elea,  the  parent 
of  systematic  logic,  to  Bacon  and  Descar- 
tes ;*  the  other,  still  more  valuable,  on  the 
criteria  of  truth  ;  shortly  criticising  also, 
in  a  chapter  of  this  book,  the  several 
schemes  of  logic  which  he  had  merely  de- 
scribed in  the  former.  After  stating  very 
prolixly,  as  is  usual  with  him,  the  argu- 
ments of  the  skeptics  against  the  evidence 
of  the  senses,  and  those  of  the  dogmatics, 
as  he  calls  them,  who  refer  the  sole  crite- 
rion of  truth  to  the  understanding,  he  pro- 
pounds a  sort  of  middle  course.  It  is  ne- 
cessary, he  observes,  before  we  can  infer 
truth,  that  there  should  be  some  sensible 
sign,  aiadrirov  ayfieiov  ;  for,  since  all  the 
knowledge  we  possess  is  derived  from  the 
sense,  the  mind  must  first  have  some  sen- 
sible image,  by  which  it  may  be  led  to  a 
knowledge  of  what  is  latent  and  not  per- 
ceived by  sense.  Hence  we  may  distin- 


*  Praetereundum  porro  non  est  ob  earn,  qu4  est, 
celebritat.em  prganum,  sive  logica  Francisci  Baco- 
nis  Verulamii.  He -extols  Bacon  highly,  but  gives 
an  analysis  of  the  Novum  Organum  without  much 
criticism. —  De  Logics  Origine.  c.  x. 

Logica  Verulamii,  Gassendi  says  in  another 
place,  tota  ac  per  se  ad  physicam,  atque  adeo  ad 
veritatem  notitiamve  rerum  germanam  habendam 
contendit.  Praecipue  autem  in  eo  est,  ut  bene  im 
aginemur,  quatenus  vult  esse  imprimis  exuenda 
omnia  praejudicia  ac  novas  deinde  notiones  ideasve 
ex  novis  debiteque  factis  experimenlis  inducendas. 
Logica  Cartesii  recte  quidem  Verulamii  imitatione 
ab  eo  exorditur,  quod  ad  bene  imaginandum  prava 
prejudicia  exuenda,  recta  vero  induenda  vulf,  &c., 
p.  90. 


FROM  1C50  TO  1700. 


303 


guish  in  ourselves  a  double  criterion ;  one 
by  which  we  perceive  the  sign,  namely, 
the  senses  ;  another,  by  which  we  under- 
stand, through  reasoning,  the  latent  tiling, 
namely,  the  intellect  or  rational  faculty.* 
This  he  illustrates  by  the  pores  of  the 
skin,  which  we  do  not  perceive,  but  infer 
their  existence  by  observing  the  permea- 
tion of  moisture. 

16.  In  the  first  part  of  the  treatise  itself 
H!S  theory  on   Logic,   to  which  these  two 
of  ideas,     books  are  introductory,  Gasscndi 
lays  down  again  his  favourite  principle, 
that  every  idea  in  the  mind  is  ultimately 
derived  from  the  senses.     But  while  what 
the  senses  transmit  are  only  singular  ideas, 
the  mind  has  the  faculty  of  making  gen- 
eral ideas  out  of  a  number  of  these  singu- 
lar ones  when  they  resemble  each  other.f 
In  this  part  of  his  Logic  he  expresses  him- 
self clearly  and  unequivocally  a  concep- 
tualist. 

17.  The  Physics  were  expanded  with  a 
prodigality  of  learning  upon  every  prov- 
ince of  nature.     Gassendi  is  full  of  quota- 
tion, and  his  systematic  method  manifests 
the  comprehensiveness  of  his  researches. 
In  the  third  book  of  the  second  part  of  the 
third  section  of  the  Physics  he  treats  of 
the  immateriality,  and  in  the  fourteenth 
of  the  immortality  of  the  soul,  and  main- 
tains the  affirmative  of  both  propositions. 
This  may  not  be  what  those  who  judge  of 
Gassendi  merely  from  his  objections  to 
the   Meditations  of  Descartes  have  sup- 
posed.    But   a   clearer  insight   into   his 
metaphysical  theory  will  be  obtained  from 
the  ninth  book  of  the  same  part  of  the 
Physics,  entitled  De  Intellectu,  on  the  Hu- 
man Understanding. 

18.  In  this  book,  after  much  display  of 
and  of  the  erudition  on  the  tenets  of  philos- 
naiure  of    ophers,  he  determines  the  soul  to 
the  soul,     kg  an  jncorporeal  substance,  cre- 
ated by  God,  and  infused  into  the  body,  so 
that  it  resides  in  it  as  an  informing  and 
not  merely  a  present  nature,  forma  infor- 
mans,  et  non  simpliciter  assistens.J     He 
next  distinguishes  intellection  or  under- 
standing from  imagination  or  perception  ; 
which  is  worthy  of  particular  notice,  be- 
cause in  his  controversy  with  Descartes 
he  had  thrown  out  doubts  as  to  any  dis- 
tinction between  them.     We  have  in  our- 
selves a  kind  of  faculty  which  enables  us, 
by  means  of  reasoning,  to  understand  that 


*  P.  81.  If  this  passage  be  well  attended  to,  it 
•will  show  how  the  philosophy  of  Gassendi  has  been 
misunderstood  by  those  who  confound  it  with  the 
merely  sensual  school  of  metaphysicians.  No  one 
has  more  clearly,  or  more  at  length,  distinguished 
the  aicdrj-ov  criitttov,  the  sensible  associated  sign, 
from  the  unimaginable  objects  of  pure  intellect,  as 
we  shall  soon  see.  t  P.  93.  J  P.  4  tO. 


which  by  no  endeavours  we  can  imagine 
or  represent  to  the  mind.*  Of  this  the 
ize  of  the  sun,  or  innumerable  other  ex- 
amples might  be  given  ;  the  mind  having 
no  idea  suggested  by  the  imagination  of 
the  sunjs  magnitude,  but  knowing  it  by  a 
peculiar  process  of  reasoning.  And  hence 
we  infer  that  the  intellectual  soul  is  imma- 
terial, because  it  understands  that  which 
no  material  image  presents  to  it,  as  we  in- 
fer also  that  the  imaginative  faculty  is  ma- 
terial, because  it  employs  the  images  sup- 
plied by  sense.  It  is  true  that  the  intel- 
lect makes  use  of  these  sensible  images 
as  steps  towards  its  reasoning  upon  things 
which  cannot  be  imagined ;  but  the  proof 
of  its  immateriality  is  given  by  this,  that 
it  passes  beyond  all  material  images,  and 
attains  a  true  knowledge  of  that  whereof 
it  has  no  image. 

19.  Buhle  observes,  that  in  what  Gas- 
sendi has  said  on  the  power  of  the  mind 
to  understand  what  it  cannot  conceive, 
there  is  a  forgetfulness  of  his  principle,  that 
nothing  is  in  the  understanding  which  has 
not  been  in  the  sense.     But,  unless  we  im- 
pute repeated  contradictions  to  this  philos- 
opher, he  must  have  meant  that  axiom  in 
a  less  extended  sense  than  it  has  been  ta- 
ken by  some  who  have  since  employed  it. 
By  that  which  is  "in  the  understanding'' 
he  could  only  intend  definite  images  de- 
rived from  sense,  which  must  be  present 
before  the  mind  can  exercise  any  faculty, 
or  proceed   to  reason  up  to  unimagina- 
ble things.     The  fallacy  of  the  sensualist 
school,  English  and  French,  was  to  con- 
clude that  we  can  have  no  knowledge  of 
that  which  is  not  "in  the  understanding;" 
an  inference  true  in  the  popular  sense  of 
words,  but  false  in  the  metaphysical. 

20.  There  is,  moreover,  Gassendi  pro- 

*  Itaque  est  in  nobis  intellects  species,  qua  rati- 
ocinando  eo  provehimur,  ut  aliqnid  imelligamus, 
quod  imaginari,  vel  cujus  habere  observantem  ima- 
ginem,  quantumcunque  aniini  vires  contenderimus, 
non  possimus. .  .  .  After  instancing  the  size  of  the 
sun,  possunt  consimilia  sexcenta  afferri. .  .  .  Verum 
quidem  istud  sufficiat,  ut  constet  quidpiam  nos  in- 
telligere  quod  imaginari  non  liceat,  et  intellectum 
ita  esse  distincturn  a  phantasia,  ut  cum  phantasia 
habeat  iriateriales  species,  sub  quibns  res  imagina- 
tur,  non  habeat  tarnen  intellects,  sub  quibus  res 
intellignt, :  neque  eni/n  ullam,  v.  g.  habet  illius  mag 
nitudmu quam  in  sole  intelligit;  sed  tantum  vi  pro- 
pria,  sen  ratiocinando.  earn  esse  in  sole  magnitudi 
nem  cornnrehendit,  ac  pari  modo  csetera.  Nempe 
ex  hoc  efficitur,  ut  rem  sine  specie  material!  intel- 
lieens,  esse  immaterialis  debeat ;  sicuti  phantasia 
ex  eo  materialis  arguitur,  quod  material!  specie  uta- 
tur.  Ac  utitur  quidem  etiam  inlellectus  speciebus 
phantasia  perceptis,  tanquarn  gradibus,  ut  ratioci- 
nando  assequatur  ea,  qua;  deinceps  sine  speciebus 
phantasmatisve  intelligit :  sed  hoc  ipsum  est  quod 
illius  iminaterialitatern  arguit,  quod  ultra  omnem 
speciem  materialem  seprovehat,  quidpiamque  cujiii 
nullam  habeat  phantasrna  revera  agnoscat. 


304 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


Distinguish-  ceeds,  a  class  of  reflex  opera- 
es  ideas  of  tions,  whereby  the  mind  under- 
reflection.  stan(is  jtse]f  and  its'own  facul- 
ties, and  is  conscious  that  it  is  exercising 
such  acts.  And  this  faculty  is  superior  to 
any  that  a  material  substance  possesses ; 
for  no  body  can  act  reflexly  on  itself,  but 
must  move  from  one  place  to  another.* 
Our  observation,  therefore,  of  our  own  im- 
aginings must  be  by  a  power  superior  to  im- 
agination itself;  for  imagination  is  em- 
ployed on  the  image,  not  on  the  percep- 
tion of  the  image,  since  there  is  no  image 
of  the  act  of  perception. 

21.  The  intellect,  also,  not  only  forms 
universal  ideas,  but  perceives  the  nature 
of  universality.     And  this  seems  peculiar 
to  mankind  ;  for  brutes  do  not  show  any- 
thing more  than  a  power  of  association 
by  resemblance.     In  our  own  conception 
of  a  universal,  it  may  be  urged,  there  is 
always  some  admixture  of  singularity,  as 
of  a  particular  form,  magnitude,  or  colour; 
yet  we  are  able,  Gassendi  thinks,  to  strip 
the  image  successively  of  all  these  par- 
ticular adjuncts.!     He   seems,  therefore, 
as  has  been  remarked  above,  to  have  held 
the  conceptualist  theory  in  the  strictest 
manner,  admitting  the  reality  of  universal 
ideas  even  as  images  present  to  the  mind. 

22.  Intellection  being  the  proper  opera- 
Aiso  intei-     tion  °f  tne  soul,  it  is  needless  to 
icct  from      inquire  whether  it  does  this  by 
imagination.  jts  own  nature,  or  by  a  peculiar 
faculty  called  understanding ;  nor  should 
we  trouble  ourselves  about  the  Aristote- 
lian distinction  of  the  active  and  passive 
intellect. J    We  have  only  to  distinguish 
this  intellection  from  mere  conception  de- 
rived from  the  phantasy,  which  is  neces- 
sarily associated  with  it.    We  cannot  con- 
ceive God  in  this  life,  except  under  some 
image  thus  supplied ;  and  it  is  the  same 
with  all  oilier  incorporeal  things.     Nor  do 
we   comprehend   infinite   quantities,   but 
have  a  sort  of  confused  image  of  indefinite 
extension.     This  is  surely  a  right  account 
of  the  matter;    and  if  Stewart  had  paid 
any  attention  to  these  and  several  other 


*  Alternmest  genus  reflexarum  actionum.quibus 
intellectus  seipsum,  suasque  functiones  intelligit, 
ac  speciatim  se  intelligere  animadvertit.  Videlicet 
hoc  munus  est  omni  facultate  corporea  superius ; 
quoniam  quicquid  corporeum  est,  ita  certo  loco,  sive 
permanenter.  sive  succedenter  alligatum  est,  ut  non 
versus  se.  sed  solum  versus  aliud  diversum  a  se  pro- 
cedere  possit. 

t  Et.  ne  instes  in  nobis  quoque,  dum  universale 
concipimus,  admisceri  semper  aliquid  singularitatis, 
ut  certa?  mfpnitudin  s,  certae  figurae,  certi  coloris, 
&c.,  experimnr  tamen,  nisi  [sic]  simul,  saltern  suc- 
cessive spoliari  a  nnbis  naturum  qualibet  speciali 
magnitudine,  qualibet  speciali  figura,  quolibet  spe- 
ciali colore ;  atque  ita  de  caeteris. 

t  P.  446. 


passages,  he  could  not  have  so  much  mis- 
conceived the  philosophy  of  Gassendi. 

23.  The  mind,  as  long_as  it  dwells  in  the 
body,  seems  to  have  no  intelligible  species, 
except  phantasms  derived  from  sense. 
These  he  takes  for  impressions  on  the 
brain,  driven  to  and  fro  by  the  animal  spir- 
its till  they  reach  the  phantasia  or  imagin- 
ative faculty,  and  cause  it  to  imagine  sen- 
sible things.  The  soul,  in  Gasscndi's  the- 
ory, consists  of  an  incorporeal  part  or  in- 
tellect, and  of  a  corporeal  part,  the  phan- 
tasy or  sensitive  soul,  which  he  conceives 
to  be  diffused  throughout  the  body.  The 
intellectual  soul  instantly  perceives,  by  its 
union  with  the  phantasy,  the  images  im- 
pressed upon  the  latter,  not  by  impulse  of 
these  sensible  and  material  species,  but  by 
intuition  of  their  images  in  the  phantasy.* 
Thus,  if  I  rightly  apprehend  his  meaning, 
we  are  to  distinguish,  first,  the  species  in 
the  brain,  derived  from  immediate  sense 
or  reminiscence ;  secondly,  the  image  of 
these  conceived  by  the  phantasy  ;  thirdly, 
the  act  of  perception  in  the  mind  itself,  . 
by  which  it  knows  the  phantasy  to  have 
imagined  these  species,  and  knows  also 
the  species  themselves  to  have,  or  to  have 
had,  their  external  archetypes.  This  dis- 
tinction of  the  animus  or  reasonable,  from 
the  anima  or  sensitive  soul,  he  took,  as  he 
did  a  great  part  of  his  philosophy,  from 
Epicurus. 

24.  The  phantasy  and  intellect  proceed 
together,  so  that  they  might  appear  at  first 
to  be  the  same  faculty.  Not  only,  how- 
ever, are  they  different  in  their  operation 
even  as  to  objects  which  fall  under  the 
senses  and  are  represented  to  the  mind, 
but  the  intellect  has  certain  operations  pe- 
culiar to  itself.  Such  is  the  apprehension 
of  things  which  cannot  be  perceived  by 
sense,  as  the  Deity,  whom,  though  we  can 
only  imagine  as  corporeal,  we  apprehend 
or  understand  to  be  otherwise.!  He  re- 
peats a  good  deal  of  what  he  had  before 
said  on  the  distinctive  province  of  the  un- 
derstanding, by  which  we  reason  on  things 
incapable  of  being  imagined  ;  drawing  sev- 

*  Eodem  momento  inlellecttfs  ob  intiman  sui 
prasenliam  coha'rentianique  cum  phantasia  rem 
eandem  contuetur. — P.  450. 

t  Hop  est  autrm  prater  phantasia?  cancellos,  in- 
tellectusq'ie  ipsius  proprium,  protestque  adeo  talis 
apprehensio  non  jatn  itnaeinatio,  sed  intelligentia 
vel  intellectio  dici.  Non  quod  intellrctus  non  ac- 
cipiat  ansam  ab  ipsa  phantasia  ratiocinandi  esse  al- 
iquid ultra  id,  quod  specie  imagineve  reprcescntatur, 
neque  non  simul  comitantem  talem  speciem  vel 
imnginationem  habeat ;  sed  quod  apprehendat,  in- 
telligatve  aliqnid,  ad  quod  apprehendendum  sive 
percipiendum  assurgere  phantasia  non  possit,  ut  quas 
omnino  terminetur  ad  corporutn  specictn,  seu  ima- 
ginem,  ex  qua  illius  operatio  imagmatio  appellatur. 
-Ibid. 


FROM  1650  TO  1700. 


305 


eral  instances  from  the  geometry  of  infi- 
nites, as  in  asymptotes,  wherein,  he  says, 
something  is  always  inferred  by  reasoning 
which  we  presume  to  be  true,  and  yet  can- 
not reach  by  any  effort  of  imagination.* 

25.  I v have  given  a  few  extracts  from 
...    ...       Gassendi   in    order   to   confirm 

His  philos-        .        ,        ,  •  i    i  • 

opbymis-  what  has  been  said,  his  writings 
understood  being  little  read  in  England,  and 
"dtt-  his  philosophy  not  having  been 
always  represented  in  the  same  manner. 
Degerando  has  claimed,  on  two  occasions, 
the  priority  for  Gassendi  in  that  theory  of 
the  generation  of  ideas  which  has  usually 
been  ascribed  to  Locke. f  But  Stewart 
protests  against  this  alleged  similarity  in 
the  tenets  of  the  French  and  English  phi- 
losophers. "  The  remark,"  he  says,  "  is 
certainly  just  if  restrained  to  Locke's  doc- 
trine as  interpreted  by  the  greater  part  of 
philosophers  on  the  Continent;  but  it  is 
very  wide  of  the  truth  if  applied  to  it  as 
now  explained  and  modified  by  the  most 
intelligent  of  his  disciples  in  this  country. 
The  main  scope,  indeed,  of  Gassendi's  ar- 
gument against  Descartes  is  to  materialize 
that  class  of  our  ideas  which  the  Lockists 
as  well  as  the  Cartesians  consider  as  the 
exclusive  objects  of  the  power  of  reflection, 
and  to  show  that  these  ideas  are  all  ulti- 
mately resolvable  into  images  or  concep- 
tions borrowed  from  things  external.  It 
is  not,  therefore,  what  is  sound  and  valu- 
able in  this  part  of  Locke's  system,  but  the 
errors  grafted  on  it  in  the  comments  of 
some  of  his  followers,  that  can  justly  be 
said  to  have  been  borrowed  from  Gassen- 
di. Nor  has  Gassendi  the  merit  of  origi- 
nality even  in  these  errors  ;  for  scarcely  a 
remark  on  the  subject  occurs  in  his  works 
but  what  is  copied  from  the  accounts' 
transmitted  to  us  of  the  Epicurean  meta- 
physics. "J 

26.  It  will  probably  appear  to  those  who 
consider  what  I  have  quoted  from  Gassen- 
di, that  in  his  latest  writings  he  did  not 
differ  so  much  from  Locke,  and  lead  the 
way  so  much  to  the  school  of  the  French 


metaphysicians  of  the  eighteenth  century 
as  Stewart  has  supposed.  The  resem- 
blance to  the  Essay  on  the  Human  Un- 
derstanding in  several  points,  especially 
in  the  important  distinction  of  what  Locke 
has  called  ideas  of  reflection  from  those 
of  sense,  is  too  evident  to  be  denied.  I 
am,  at  the  same  time,  unable  to  account  in 
a  satisfactory  manner  for  the  apparent  dis- 
crepance between  the  language  of  Gas- 
sendi in  the  Syntagma  Philosophicum,  and 
that  which  we  find  in  his  objections  to  the 
Meditations  of  Descartes.  No  great  in- 
terval of  time  had  intervened  between  the 
two  works  ;  for  the  correspondence  with 
Descartes  bears  date  in  1641,  and  it  ap- 
pears by  that  with  Louis,  count  of  Angou- 
leme,  in  the  succeeding  year,  that  he  was 
already  employed  on  the  first  part  of  the 
Syntagma  Philosophicum.*  "Whether  he 
urged  some  of  his  objections  against  the 
Cartesian  metaphysics  with  a  regard  to 
victory  rather  than  truth,  or,  as  would  be 
the  more  candid,  and  perhaps  more  rea- 
sonable hypothesis,  he  was  induced,  by 
the  acuteness  of  his  great  antagonist,  to 
review  and  reform  his  own  opinions,  I 
must  leave  to  the  philosophical  reader,  t 

27.  Stewart  had  evidently  little  or  no 
knowledge  of  the  Syntagma  Phil-  uernier>8 
osophicum.  But  he  had  seen  an  epitome  o 
Abridgment  of  the  Philosophy  of  Gasstndi- 
Gassendi  by  Bernier,  published  at  Lyons 
in  1678.  and  finding  in  this  the  doctrine  of 
Locke  on  ideas  of  reflection,  conceived 
that  it  did  not  faithfully  represent  its  own 
original.  But  this, was  hardly  a  very 
plausible  conjecture  ;  Bernier  being  a  man 
of  considerable  ability,  an  intimate  friend 
of  Gassendi,  and  his  epitome  being  so  far 
from  concise  that  it  extends  to  eight  small 
volumes.  Having  not  indeed  collated  the 
two  books,  but  read  them  within  a  short 
interval  of  time,  I  can  say  that  Bernier 
has  given  a  faithful  account  of  the  philoso- 
phy of  Gassendi,  as  it  is  contained  in  the 
Syntagma  Philosophicum,  for  he  takes  no- 
tice of  no  other  work ;  nor  has  he  here 


*  In  quibus  semper  aliqiml  argumentando  colli- 
gitur,  quod  et  veruin  esse  iritelligunus  et  imaginan- 
do  non  assequirnur  tamen. 

t  Histoire  Compares  des  Systemes  (1804),  vol.  i , 
p.  301,  and  Biogr.  Universelle,  art.  Gassendi.  Yet 
in  neither  of  these  does  M.  Degerando  advert  ex- 
pressly to  the  peculiar  resemblance  between  the 
systems  of"  Gasst-ndi  and  Locke,  in  the  account  they 
give  of  ideas  of  reflection.  He  refers,  however,  to 
a  more  particular  essay  of  his  own  on  the  Gassen- 
dian  philosophy,  which  I  have  not  seen.  As  to 
Locke's  positive  obligations  to  his  predecessor,  I 
should  be,  perhaps,  inclined  to  doubt  whether  he, 
who  was  no  great  lover  of  large  books,  had  read  so 
unwieldy  a  work  as  the  Syntagma  Philosophicum  ; 
but  the  abridgment  of  Bernier  would  have  sufficed. 

t  Preliminary  Dissertation  to  Encyclopedia. 

VOL.  II.— Q  Q 


*  Gassendi  Opera,  vol.  vi.,  p.  130.  These  letters 
are  interesting  to  those  who  would  study  the  philos- 
ophy of  Gassendi. 

t  Baillet,  in  hia  Life  of  Descartes,  would  lead  us 
to  think  that  Gassendi  was  too  much  influenced  by 
personal  motives  in  writing  against  Descartes,  who 
had  mentioned  the  phenomena  of  parhelia  without 
alluding  to  a  dissertation  of  Gassendi  on  the  sub- 
ject. The  latter,  it  seems,  owns  in  a  letter  to  Rivet 
I  hat  he  should  not  have  examined  so  closely  the 
metaphysics  of  Descartes  if  he  had  been  treated  by 
him  with  as  much  politeness  as  he  had  expected. — 
Viede  Descartes,  liv.  vi.  The  retort  of  Descartes, 
O  Caro !  (see  p.  96  of  this  vol.),  offended  Gassendi, 
and  caused  a  coldness;  which,  according  to  Baillet, 
Sorb:ere  aggravated  acting  a  treacherous  part  in 
exasperating  the  mind  of  Gassendi. 


MTERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


added  anything  of  his  own.  But  in  1682 
he  published  another  little  book,  entitled 
Doutes  de  M.  Bernier  sur  quelques  uns 
des  principaux  Chapitres  de  son  Abrege 
de  la  Philosophic  de  Gassendi.  One  of 
these  doubts  relates  to  the  existence  of 
space ;  and  in  another  place  he  denies 
the  reality  of  eternity  or  abstract  duration. 
Bernier  observes,  as  Descartes  had  done, 
that  it  is  vain  and  even  dangerous  to  at- 
tempt a  definition  of  evident  things,  such 
as  motion,  because  we  are  apt  to  mistake 
a  definition  of  the  word  for  one  of  the 
thing  ;  and  philosophers  seem  to  conceive 
that  motion  is  a  real  being,  when  they 
talk  of  a  billiard-ball  communicating  or 
losing  it.* 

28.  The  Cartesian  philosophy,  which  its 
Progress  of  adversaries  had  expected  to  ex- 
Cartesian  pire  with  its  founder,  spread  more 
philosophy.  and  more  after  his  death,  nor  had 

it  ever  depended  on  any  personal  favour 
or  popularity  of  Descartes,  since  he  did 
not  possess  such  except  with  a  few  friends. 
The  churches  and  schools  of  Holland  were 
full  of  Cartesians.  The  old  scholastic 
philosophy  became  ridiculous ;  its  distinc- 
tions, its  maxims,  were  laughed  at,  as  its 
adherents  complain ;  and  probably  a  more 
fatal  blow  was  given  to  the  Aristotelian 
system  by  Descartes  than  even  by  Bacon. 
The  Cartesian  theories  were  obnoxious  to 
the  rigid  class  of  theologians ;  but  two 
parties  of  considerable  importance  in  Hol- 
land, the  Arminians  and  the  Coccejans, 
generally  espoused  the  new  philosophy. 
Many  speculations  in/theology  were  im- 
mediately connected  with  it,  and  it  acted 
on  the  free  and  scrutinizing  spirit  which 
began  to  sap  the  bulwarks  of  establish- 
ed orthodoxy.  The  Cartesians  were  de- 
nounced in  ecclesiastical  synods,  and  were 
hardly  admitted  to  any  office  in  the  church. 
They  were  condemned  by  several  univer- 
sities, and  especially  by  that  of  Leyden  in 
1678,  for  the  position  that  the  truth  of 
scripture  must  be  proved  by  reason.f  Nor 


*  Even  Gassendi  has  defined  duration  "  an  in- 
corporeal flowing  extension,"  which  is  a  good  in- 
stance of  the  success  that  can  attend  such  defini- 
tions of  simple  ideas. 

f  Leyden  had  condemned  the  whole  Cartesian 
system  as  early  as  1651,  on  the  ground  that  it  was 
an  innovation  on  the  Aristotelian  philosophy  so  long 
received ;  and  ordained,  ut  in  Academia  intra  Ans- 
totelicse  philosophise  limites,  quas  hie  hactenus  re- 
cepta  fuit,  nos  contineamus,  utque  in  posterum  nee 
philosophic,  neque  nominis  Cartesian!  in  disputa- 
tionibus  lectionibus  aut  publicis  aliis  exercitiis,  nee 
pro  nee  contra  mentio  fiat.  Utrecht,  in  1644,  had 
gone  farther,  and  her  decree  is  couched  in  terms 
which  might  have  been  used  by  any  one  who 
wished  to  ridicule  university  prejudice  by  a  forgery. 
Kejicere  novam  istam  philosophiam,  priino  quia 
veteri  philosophise,  quam  Academias  toto  orbi  terra- 
rum  hactenus  optimo  consifco  docuere,  adversatur, 


were  they  less  exposed  to  persecution  in 
France.* 

29.  The  Cartesian  philosophy,  in  one 
sense,  carried  in  itself  the  seeds  of  its 
own  decline  ;  it  was  the  Scylla  of  many 
dogs ;  it  taught  men  to  think  for  them- 
selves, and  to  think  often  better  than  Des- 
cartes had  done.    A  new  eclectic  philoso- 
phy, or,  rather,  the  genuine  spirit  of  free 
inquiry,  made   Cartesianism   cease  as  a 
sect,  though  it  left  much  that  had  been  in- 
troduced by  it.     We  owe  thanks  to  these 
Cartesians  of  the  seventeenth  century  for 
their  strenuous  assertion  of  reason  against 
prescriptive  authority :  the  latter  part  of 
this  age  was  signalized  by  the  overthrow 
of  a  despotism  which  had  fought  every 
inch  in  its  retreat,  and  it  was  manifestly 
after  a  struggle,  on  the  Continent,  with 
this  new  philosophy,  that  it  was  ultimate- 
ly vanquished. f 

30.  The  Cartesian  writers  of  France, 
the  Low  Countries,  and  Germany,  La  Forge. 
were  numerous  and  respectable.  R«sis- 
La  Forge,  of  Saumur,  first  developed  the 
th'eory  of  occasional  causes  to  explain  the 
union  of  soul  and  body,  wherein  he  was 
followed  by  Geulinx,  Regis,  Wittich,  and 
Malebranche.l    But  this  and  other  inno- 
vations displeased  the  stricter  Cartesians, 
who  did  not  find  them  in  their  master. 
Clauberg  in  Germany,  Clerselier  in  France, 
Le  Grand  in  the  Low  Countries,  should 


ejusque  fundamenta  subvertit ;  deinde  quia  juven- 
tutem  a  veteri  et  sana  philosophia  avertit,  impedit- 
que  quo  minus  ad  culmen  erttditionis  provehatur ;  eo 
quod  istius  prsesumptae  philosophic  adminiculo  et 
technologemafa  in  auctorum  libris  professorumque  lec- 
tionibus et  disputationibus  usitata,  percipere  acquit; 
postremo  quod  ex  eadem  variae  falsa  et  absurds 
opiniones  partim  consignantur,  partim  ab  improvida 
juventute  deduci  possint  pugnantcs  cum  cagteria 
disciplmis  et  facultatibus,  atque  imprimis  cum  or- 
thodoxa  theologia ;  censere  igitur  et  statuere  omnes 
philosophiam  in  hacacademiadocentes  imposterum 
a  tali  institute  et  incepto  abstinere  debere,  conten- 
tos  modica  libertate  dissentiendi  in  singularibus  non- 
nullis  opinionibus  ad  aliarum  celebrium  Acade- 
miarum  exemplum  hie  usitata,  ita  ut  veteris  et  re- 
ceptse  philosophise  fundamenta  non  labefactent.— 
Tepel.,  Hist.  Philos.  Cartesians,  p.  75. 

*  An  account  of  the  manner  in  which  the  Carte 
sians  were  harassed  through  the  Jesuits  is  give* 
by  M.  Cousin,  in  the  Journal  des  Savans,  March 
1838. 

t  For  the  fate  of  the  Cartesian  philosophy  in  the 
life  of  its  founder,  see  the  life  of  Descartes  by  Bail 
let,  2  vols.  in  quarto,  which  he  afterward  abridged 
in  12mo.  After  the  death  of  Descartes,  it  may  be 
best  traced  by  means  of  Brucker.  Buhle,  as  usual, 
is  a  mere  copyist  of  his  predecessor.  He  has,  how- 
ever, given  a  fuller  account  of  Regis.  A  contem- 
porary History  of  Cartesian  Philosophy  by  Tepel 
contains  rather  a  neatly  written  summary  of  the 
controve  -sies  it  excited  both  in  the  lifetime  of 
Descartes  and  for  a  few  years  afterward. 

t  Tennemann  (Manuel  de  la  Philosophic,  ii ,  99) 
ascribes  this  theory  to  Geulinx.— See  also  Bruck- 
er, v.,  704. 


FROM  1650  TO  1700. 


307 


be  mentioned  among  the  leaders  of  the 
school.  But  no  one  has  left  so  compre- 
hensive a  statement  and  defence  of  Car- 
tesianism  as  Jean  Silvain  Regis,  whose 
Systeme  de  la  Philosophic,  in  three  quarto 
volumes,  appeared  at  Paris  in  1690.  It  is 
divided  into  four  parts,  on  Logic,  Meta- 
physics, Physics,  and  Ethics.  In  the  three 
latter  Regis  claims  nothing  as  his  own 
except  some  explanations,  "  All  that  I  have 
said  being  due  to  M.  Descartes,  whose 
method  and  principles  I  have  followed, 
even  in  explanations  that  are  different 
from  his  own."  And  in  his  Logic  he 
professes  to  have  gone  little  beyond  the 
author  of  the  Art  de  Penser.*  Notwith- 
standing this  rare  modesty,  Regis  is  not  a' 
writer  unworthy  of  being  consulted  by  the 
studious  of  philosophy,  nor  deficient  in 
clearer  and  fuller  statements  than  will  al- 
ways be  found  m  Descartes.  It  might 
even  be  said  that  he  has  many  things 
which  would  be  sought  in  vain  through 
his  master's  writings,  though  I  am  unable 
to  prove  that  they  might  not  be  traced  in 
those  of  the  intermediate  Cartesians. 
Though  our  limits  will  not  permit  any 
farther  account  of  Regis,  I  will  give  a  few 
passages  in  a  note.f 


*  It  is  remarkable  that  Regis  says  nothing  about 
figures  and  modes  of  syllogism  :  Nous  ne  dirons  rien 
des  figures  we  des  syllogismes  en  general ;  car  bien 
que  tout  cela  puisse  servir  de  quelque  chose  pour  la 
speculation  de  la  logique,  il  n'est  au  moins  d'aucuri 
usage  pour  la  pratique,  laquelle  est  1'unique  but  que 
nous  nous  sornmes  proposes  dans  ce  traite,  p.  37. 

t  Regis,  in  imitation  of  his  master,  and  perhaps 
with  more  clearness,  observes  that  our  knowledge 
of  our  own  existence  is  not  derived  from  reasoning, 
mais  par  line  connoissance  simple  et  inte>ieure, 
jui  precede  toutes  les  connoissances  acquises,  et 
qui  j'appelle  conscience.  En  effet,  quand  je  dis  que 
je  connpis  ou  que  je  crois  connoitre,  ce  je  presup- 
pose lui-me'ine  mon  existence,  £tant  impossible  que 
je  connoisse,  on  seulement  que  je  croye  connoitre, 
et  que  je  ne  sois  pas  quelque  chose  d'existant,  p.  68. 
The  Cartesian  paradox,  as  it  has  been  deemed,  that 
thinking  is  the  essence  of  the  soul,  Regis  has  ex- 
plained away.  After  coming  to  the  conclusion,  Je 
euis  done  une  pensee,  he  immediately  corrects  him- 
self: Cependant  je  crains  encore  de  me  d^finir  mal, 
quand  je  dis  que  je  suis  une  pensee,  qui  a  la  propri- 
6t6  de  douter  et  d'avoir  de  la  certitude  ;  car  quelle 
apparence  y  a  t'il  que  ma  nature,  qui  doit  e"tre  une 
chose  fixe  et  permanente,  consiste  dans  la  pensee, 
puisque  je  sais  par  experience  que  mes  pens6es 
Bont  dans  un  flux  continuel,  et  que  je  ne  pense  ja- 
mais  a  la  me'rrie  chose  deux  momens  de  suite ?  mais 
quand  je  considere  la  difficulte  de  plus  pres,  je  con- 
c,ois  aisement  qu'elle  vient  de  ce  que  le  mot  de  pen- 
tde  est  equivoque,  et  que  je  m'en  sers  indifferem- 
ment  pour  sigmfier  la  pensee  qui  constitue  ma  na- 
ture, et  pour  designer  les  differentes  manieres  d'etre 
de  cette  pensee  ;  ce  qui  est  une  erreur  extreme,  car 
il  y  a  cette  difference  centre  la  pens6e  qui  constitue 
ma  nature,  et  les  pensees,qui  n'en  sont  que  les  ma- 
nitres  d'etre, que  la  premiere  est  une  pensee  fixe  et 
permanente,  et  que  les  autres  sont  des  pens^es 
changeantes  et  passageres.  C'est  pourquoi,  afin 


31.  Huet,  bishop  of  Avranches,  a  man 
of  more  general  erudition  than  Huet'sCen- 
philosophical  acuteness,  yet  not  sureorcar- 
quite  without  this,  arraigned  the  tesian»«n. 
whole  theory  in  his  Censura  Philosophise 
Cartesians.  He  had  been  for  many 
years,  as  he  tells  us,  a  favourer  of  Carte- 
sianisrn,  but  his  retractation  is  very  com- 
plete. It  cannot  be  denied  that  Huet 
strikes  well  at  the  vulnerable  parts  of  the 
Cartesian  metaphysics,  and  exposes  their 
alternate  skepticism  and  dogmatism  with 
some  justice.  In  other  respects  he  dis- 
plays an  inferior  knowledge  of  the  human 
mind  and  of  the  principles  of  reasoning  to 
Descartes.  He  repeats  Gassendi's  cavil, 
that  Cogito,  ergo  sum,  involves  the  truth 
of  Quod  cogitat,  est.  The  Cartesians, 


de  donner  une  idee  exacte  de  ma  nature,  je  dirai 
que  je  suis  une  pensee  qui  existe  en  elle-mlme,  et 
qui  est  le  sujet  de  toutes  mes  manieres  de  penser. 
Je  dis  que  je  suis  une  pensee  pour  marquer  ce  que 
la  pensee  qui  constitue  ma  nature  a  de  commun 
avec  la  pense'e  en  general  qui  comprend  sous  soi 
toutes  les  manieres  particulieres  de  penser:  et 
j'ajonte,  qui  existe  en  elle-me'me,  et  qui  est  le  sujet 
de  differentes  manieres  de  penser,  pour  designer  ce 
que  cette  pensee  a  de  partrculier  qui  la  distingue  de 
la  pensee  en  general,  vu  qu'elle  n'existe  que  dans 
1'entendement  de  celui  qui  la  con<joit,  ainsi  que 
toutes  les  autres  natures  universelles,  p.  70. 

Every  mode  supposes  a  substance  wherein  it  ex- 
ists. From  this  axiom  Regis  deduces  the  objective 
being  of  space,  Because  we  have  the  ideas  of  length, 
breadth,  and  depth,  which  cannot  belong  to  our- 
selves, our  souls  having  none  of  these  properties; 
nor  could  the  idea  be  suggested  by  a  superior  being 
if  space  did  not  exist,  because  they  would  be  the 
representations  of  nonentity,  which  is  impossible. 
But  this  transcendental  proof  is  too  subtle  for  the 
world. 

It  is  an  axiom  of  Regis,  that  we  only  know  things 
without  us  by  means  of  ideas,  and  that  things  of 
which  we  have  no  ideas  are,  in  regard  to  us,  as  if 
they  did  not  exist  at  all.  Another  axiom  is,  that  all 
ideas,  considered  in  respect  to  their  representative 
property,  depend  on  objects  as  their  types,  or  causes 
exemplaires.  And  a  third,  that  the  "  cause  exem- 
plaire"  of  ideas  must  contain  all  the  properties 
which  the  ideas  represent.  These  axioms,  accord- 
ing to  him,  are  the  bases  of  all  certainty  in  physical 
truth.  From  the  second  axiom  he  deduces  the  ob- 
jectivity or  "  cause  exemplaire"  of  his  idea  of  a  per- 
fect being ;  and  his  proof  seems  at  least  more  clear- 
ly put  than  by  Descartes.  Every  idea  implies  an 
objective  reality  ;  for  otherwise  there  would  be  an 
effect  without  a  cause.  In  this  we  have  the  soph- 
isms and  begging  of  questions  of  which  we  may  see 
many  instances  in  Spinosa. 

In  the  second  part  of  the  first  book  of  his  meta- 
physics, Regis  treats  of  the  union  of  soul  and  body, 
and  concludes  that  the  motions  of  the  body  only  act 
on  the  soul  by  a  special  will  of  God,  who  has  deter- 
mined to  produce  certain  thoughts  simultaneously 
with  certain  bodily  motions,  p.  124.  God  is  the  ef- 
ficient first  cause  of  all  effects,  his  creatures  are  but 
secondarily  efficient.  But,  as  they  act  immediate- 
ly, we  may  ascribe  all  modal  beings  to  the  efficien- 
cy of  second  causes  And  he  prefers  this  expression 
to  that  of  occasional  causes,  usual  among  the  Car- 
tesians, because  he  fancies  the  latter  rather  deroga- 
tory to  the  fixed  will  oftJod. 


308 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


Huet  observes,  assert  the  major,  or  uni- 
versal, to  be  deduced  from  the  minor; 
which,  though  true  in  things  known  by 
induction,  is  not  so  in  propositions  neces- 
sarily known,  or,  as  the  schools  say,  a 
priori,  as  that  the  whole  is  greater  than 
its  part.  It  is  not,  however,  probable  that 
Descartes  would  have  extended  his  reply 
to  Gassendi's  criticism  so  far  as  this; 
some  have  referred  our  knowledge  of  ge- 
ometrical axioms  to  experience ;  but  this 
seems  not  agreeable  to  the  Cartesian  the- 
ory. 

32.  The  influence  of  the  Cartesian  phi- 
Port-Royai  losophy  was  displayed  in  a  trea- 
Logie.  '     tise  of  deserved  reputation,  L'Art 
de  Penser,  often  called  the   Port-Royal 
Logic.     It  was  the  work  of  Antony  Ar- 
nauld,  with  some  assistance,  perhaps,  by 
Nicole.     Arnauld  was  not  an  entire  Car- 
tesian :   he  had  himself  been  engaged  in 
controversy  with  Descartes  :  but  his  un- 
derstanding was  clear  and  calm,  his  love 
of  truth  sincere,  and  he  could  not  avoid 
recognising  the  vast  superiority  of  the 
new  philosophy  to  that  received  in  the 
schools.     This  logic,,  accordingly,  is  per- 
haps the  first  regular  treatise  on  that  sci- 
ence that  contained  a  protestation,  though 
in  very  moderate  language,  against  the 
Aristotelian   method.     The   author  tells 
us  that,  after  some  doubt,  he  had  resolved 
to  insert  a  few  things  rather  troublesome 
and  of  little  value,  such  as  the  rules  of 
conversion  and  the  demonstration  of  the 
syllogistic  figures,  chiefly  as  exercises  of 
the  understanding,  for  which  difficulties 
are  not  without  utility.     The  method  of 
syllogism  itself  he  deems  little  servicea- 
ble in  the  discovery  of  truth ;  while  many 
things  dwelt  upon  in  books  of  logic,  sue! 
as  the  ten  categories,  rather  injure  than 
improve  the  reasoning  faculties,  because 
they  accustom  men  to  satisfy  themselves 
with  words,  and  to  mistake  a  long  cata 
logue   of   arbitrary    definitions    for    rea 
knowledge.     Of  Aristotle  he  speaks   in 
more  honourable  terms  than  Bacon  hac 
done  before,  or  than  Malebranche  did  af- 
terward ;  acknowledging  the  extraordina 
ry  merit  of  some  of  his  writings,  but  point 
ing  out,  with  an  independent  spirit,  hi: 
failings  as  a  master  in  the  art  of  reasoning 
33.  The  first  part  of  L'Art  de  Penser  i 
almost  entirely  metaphysical,  in  the  usua 
sense  of  that  word.     It  considers  ideas  ii 
their  nature  and  origin,  in  the  chief  differ 
ences  of  the  objects  they  represent,  in 
their  simplicity  or  composition,  in  thei 
extent,  as  universal,  particular,  or  singu 
lar,  and,  lastly,  in  their  distinctness  o 
confusion.     The  word  idea,  it  is  observed 
is  among  those  which  are  so  clear  tha 


we  cannot  explain  them  by  means  of  oth- 
rs,  because  none  can  be  more  clear  and 
imple  than  themselves.*  But  here  it  may 
>e  doubtful  whether  the  sense  in  which 
he  word  is  to  be  taken  must  strike  every 
one  in  the  same  way.  The  clearness  of 
a  word  does  not  depend  on  its  association 
with  a  distinct  conception  in  our  own 
ninds,  but  on  the  generality  of  this  same 
association  in  the  minds  of  others. 

34.  No  follower  of  Descartes  has  more 
unambiguously  than   this    author  distin- 
guished between  imagination  and  intellec- 
ion,  though  he  gives  the  name  of  idea  to 
joth.     Many  suppose,  he  says,  that  they 
annot  conceive  a  thing  when  they  cannot 
imagine  it.     But  we  cannot  imagine  a  fig- 
ure of  1000  sides,  though  we  can  conceive 
it  and  reason  upon  it.     We  may,  indeed, 
get.a  confused  image  of  a  figure  with  many 
sides,  but  these  are  no  more  1000  than 
they  are  999.     Thus,  also,  we  have  ideas 
of  thinking,  affirming,  denying,  and   the 
like,  though  we  have  no  imagination  of 
these  operations.     By  ideas,  therefore,  we 
mean  not  images  painted  in  the  fancy,  but 
all  that  is  in  our  minds,  when  we  say  that 
we  conceive  anything,  in  whatever  man- 
ner we  may  conceive  it.    Hence  it  is  easy 
to  judge  of  the  falsehood  of  some  opinions 
held  in  this  age.     One  philosopher  has 
advanced  that  we  have  no  idea  of  God ; 
another,  that  all  reasoning  is  but  an  as- 
semblage of  words  connected  by  an  affirm- 
ation.    He  glances  here  at  Gassendi  and 
Hobbes.f     Far  from  all  our  ideas  coming 
from  the  senses,  as  the  Aristotelians  have 
said,  and  as  Gassendi  asserts  in  his  Logic, 
we  may  say,  on  the  contrary,  that  no  idea 
in  our  minds  is  derived  from  the  senses, 
except  occasionally  (par  occasion) ;  that 
is,  the  movements  of  the  brain,  which  is 
all  the  organs  of  sense  can  affect,  give 
occasion   to   the   soul  to   form   different 
ideas,  which  it  would  not  otherwise  form, 
though  these  ideas  have  scarce  ever  any 
resemblance  to  what  occurs   in  the   or- 
gans of  sense  and  in  the  brain,  and  though 
there  are  also  very  many  ideas  which, 
deriving  nothing  from  any  bodily  image, 
cannot,  without  absurdity,  be  referred  to 
the  senses. J    This  is,  perhaps,  a  clearer 
statement  of  an  important  truth  than  will 


.    . 

t  The  reflection  on  Gassendi  is  a  mere  cavil,  as 
will  appear  by  remarking  what  he  has  really  said, 
and  which  we  have  quoted  a  few  pages  above.  The 
Cartesians  were  resolute  in  using  onp  sense  of  the 
word  idea,  while  Gassendi  used  another.  He  had 
himself  been  to  bla-me  in  his  controversy  with  the 
father  of  the  new  philosophy,  and  the  disciples  (call- 
ing the  author  of  L'Art  de  Penser  such  in  a  gener- 
al sense)  retaliated  by  equal  captiousness. 

fC.  1. 


FROM  1660  TO  1700. 


309 


be  found  in  Malebranche  or  in  Descartes 
himself. 

35.  In  the  second  part  Arnauld  treats 
of  words  and  propositions.     Much  of  it 
may  be  reckoned  more  within  the  province 
of  grammar  than  of  logic.     But  as  it  is  in- 
convenient to  refer  the  student  to  works 
of  a  different  class,  especially  if  it  should 
be  the  case  that  no  good  grammars,  writ- 
ten with  a  regard   to  logical  principles, 
were  then  to  be  found,  this  cannot  justly 
be  made  an  objection.     In  the  latter  chap- 
ters of  this  second  part  he  comes  to  much 
that  is  strictly  logical,  and  taken  from  or- 
dinary books  on  that  science.     The  third 
part  relates  to  syllogisms ;  and,  notwith- 
standing the  author's  low  estimation  of 
that  method,  in  comparison  with  the  gen- 
eral regard  for  it  in  the  schools,  he  has  not 
omitted  the  common  explanations  of  mood 
and  figure,  ending  with  a  concise  but  good 
account  of  the  chief  sophisms. 

36.  The  fourth  and  last  part  is  entitled, 
On  Method,  and  contains  the  principles  of 
connected  reasoning,  which  he  justly  ob- 
serves to  be  more  important  than  the  rules 
of  single  syllogisms,  wherein  few  make 
any  mistake.     The  laws  of  demonstration 
given  by  Pascal  are  here  laid  down  with 
some  enlargement.     Many  observations. 
not    wholly  bearing    on    merely   logical 
proof,  are  found  in  this  part  of  the  treatise. 

37.  The  Port- Royal  Logic,  though  not, 
perhaps,  very  much  read  in  England,  has 
always  been   reckoned  among  the   best 
works  in  that  science,  and  certainly  had  a 
great  influence  in  rendering  it  more  meta- 
physical, more  ethical  (for  much  is  said 
by  Arnauld  on  the  moral  discipline  of  the 
mind  in  order  to  fit  it  for  the  investigation 
of  truth),  more  exempt  from  technical  bar- 
barisms, and  trifling  definitions  and  divis- 
ions.    It  became  more  and  more  acknowl- 
edged that  the  rules  of  syllogism  go  a  very 
little  way  in  rendering  the  mind  able  to 
follow  a  course  of  inquiry  without  error, 
much  less  in  assisting  it  to  discover  truth ; 
and  that  even  their  vaunted  prerogative 
of  securing  us  from  fallacy  is  nearly  inef- 
fectual in  exercise.     The  substitution  of 
the  French  language,  in  its  highest  polish, 
for  the  uncouth  Latinity  of  the  Aristoteli- 
ans, was  another  advantage  of  which  the 
Cartesian     school     legitimately    availed 
themselves. 

38.  Malebranche,  whose  Recherche  de 
la  Verite  was  published  in  1674, 
Malebranche.   wag  a  warm  and  almost  enthu- 
siastic admirer  of  Descartes  ;  but  his  mind 
was  independent,  searching,  and  fond  of 
Us  own  inventions ;  he  acknowledged  no 
master,  and  in  some  points  dissents  from 
ne  Cartesian  school.     His  natural  tem- 


perament was  sincere  and  rigid ;  he  judges 
the  moral  and  intellectual  failings  of  man- 
kind with  a  severe  scrutiny,  and  a  con- 
temptuousness  not  generally  unjust  in  it- 
self, but  displaying  too  great  confidence  in 
his  own  superiority.  This  was  enhanced 
by  a  religious  mysticism,  which  enters,  as 
an  essential  element,  into  his  philosophy 
of  the  mind.  The  fame  of  Malebranche, 
and,  still  more,  the  popularity  in  modern 
times  of  his  Search  for  Truth,  has  been 
affected  by  that  peculiar  hypothesis,  so 
mystically  expressed,  the  see'ing  all  things 
in  God,  which  has  been  more  remembered 
than  any  other  part  of  that  treatise.  "  The 
union,"  he  says,  "  of  the  soul  to  God  is 
;he  only  means  by  which  we  acquire  a 
knowledge  of  truth.  This  union  has  in- 
deed  been  rendered  so  obscure  by  original 
sin,  that  few  can  understand  what  it 
means ;  to  those  who  follow  blindly  the 
dictates  of  sense  and  passion,  it  appears 
imaginary.  The  same  cause  has  so  for- 
tified the  connexion  between  the  soul  and 
body,  that  we  look  on  them  as  one  sub- 
stance, of  which  the  latter  is  the  principal 
part.  And  hence  we  may  all  fear  that  we 
do  not  well  discern  the  confused  sounds 
with  which  the  senses  fill  the  imagination 
from  that  pure  voice  of  truth  which  speaks 
to  the  soul.  The  body  speaks  louder  than 
God  himself;  and  our  pride  makes  us  pre- 
sumptuous enough  to  judge  without  wait- 
ing for  those  words  of  truth,  without 
which  we  cannot  truly  judge  at  all.  And 
the  present  work,"  he  adds,  "  may  give 
evidence  of  this  ;  for  it  is  not  published  as 
being  infallible.  But  let  my  readers  judge 
of  my  opinions  according  to  the  clear  and 
distinct  answers  they  shall  receive  from 
the  only  Lord  of  all  men,  after  they  shall 
have  interrogated  him  by  paying  a  serious 
attention  to  the  subject."  This  is  a  strong 
evidence  of  the  enthusiastic  confidence  in 
supernatural  illumination  which  belongs 
to  Malebranche,  and  which  we  are  almost 
surprised  to  find  united  with  so  much  cool 
and  acute  reasoning  as  his  writings  con- 
tain. 

39.  The  Recherche  de  la  Verite  is  in  six 
books ;  the  first  five  on  the  errors 
springing  from  the  senses,  from 
the  imagination,  from  the  understanding, 
from  the  natural  inclinations,  and  from  the 
passions.  The  sixth  contains  the  method 
of  avoiding  these,  which,  however,  has 
been  anticipated  in  great  measure  through- 
out the  preceding.  Malebranche  has  many 
repetitions,  but  little,  I  think,  that  can  be 
called  digressive,  though  he  takes  a  large 
range  of  illustration,  and  dwells  rather  dif- 
fusely on  topics  of  subordinate  impor- 
tance. His  stylets  admirable ;  clear,  pre- 


310 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


cise,  elegant ;  sparing  in  metaphors,  yei 
not  wanting  them  in  due  place  ;  warm,  anc 
sometimes  eloquent;  a  little  redundant 
but  never  passionate  or  declamatory. 

40.  Error,  according  to  Malebranche,  is 
sketch  of  the  source  of  all  human  misery 
his  theory.  man  js  miserable  because  he  is  a 
sinner,  and  he  would  not  sin  if  _he  did  nol 
consent  to  err.  For  the  will  alone  judge 
and  reasons,  the  understanding  only  per- 
ceiver  things  and  their* relations  ;  a  devi- 
ation from  common  language.*  The  will 
is  active  and  free  ;  not  that  we  can  avoid 
willing  our  own  happiness ;  but  it  pos- 
sesses a  power  of  turning  the  understand- 
ing towards  such  objects  as  please  us,  and 
commanding  it  to  examine  everything 
thoroughly,  else  we  should  be  perpetually 
deceived,  and  without  remedy,  by  the  ap- 
pearances of  truth.  And  this  liberty  we 
should  use  on  every  occasion  :  it  is  to  be- 
come slaves,  against  the  will  of  God,  when 
we  acquiesce  in  false  appearances  ;  but  it 
is  in  obedience  to  the  voice  of  eternal 
truth  which  speaks  within  us  that  we  sub- 
mit to  those  secret  reproaches  of  reason 
which  accompany  our  refusal  to  yield  to 
evidence.  There  are,  therefore,  two  fun- 
damental rules,  one  for  science,  the  other 
for  morals ;  never  to  give  an  entire  con- 
sent to  any  propositions,  except  those 
which  are  so  evidently  true  that  we  can- 
not refuse  to  admit  them  without  an  inter- 
nal uneasiness  and  reproach  of  our  rea- 
son ;  and  never  fully  to  love  anything 
which  we  can  abstain  from  loving  without 
remorse.  We  may  feel  a  great  inclina- 
tion to  consent  absolutely  to  a  probable 
opinion ;  yet,  on  reflection,  we  shall  find 
that  we  are  not  compelled  to  do  so  by  any 
tacit  self-reproach  if  we  do  not.  And  we 
ought  to  consent  to  such  probable  opin- 
ions for  the  time,  until  we  have  more  fully 
examined  the  question. 

41.  The  sight  is  the  noblest  of  our 
senses;  and,  if  they  had  been  given  us  to 
discover  truth,  it  is  through  vision  that  we 
should  have  done  it.  But  it  deceives  us 
in  all  it  represents  ;  in  the  size  of  bodies, 
their  figures  and  motions,  in  light  and  col- 
ours. None  of  these  are  such  as  they  ap- 
pear, as  he  proves  by  many  obvious  in- 
stances. Thus  we  measure  the  velocity 
of  motion  by  duration  of  time  and  extent 
of  space  ;  but  of  duration  the  mind  can 
form  no  just  estimate,  and  the  eye  cannot 
determine  equality  of  spaces.  The  diam- 
eter of  the  moon  is  greater  by  measure- 
ment when  she  is  high  in  the  heavens ;  it 
appears  greater  to  our  eyes  in  the  hori- 
zon, f  On  all  sides  we  are  beset  with  er- 


*  L.  i.,  c.  2. 

t  L.  i.,  c.  9.    Malebranche  was  engaged  after- 


ror  through  our  senses.  Not  that  the 
sensations  themselves,  properly  speaking, 
deceive  us.  We  are  not  deceived  in  sup- 
posing that  we  see  an  orb  of  light  before 
the  sun  has  risen  above  the  horizon,  but 
in  supposing  that  what  we  see  is  the  sun 
itself.  Were  we  even  delirious,  we  should 
see  and  feel  what  our  senses  present  to 
us,  though  our  judgment  as  to  its  reality 
would  be  erroneous.  And  this  judgment 
we  may  withhold  by  assenting  to  nothing 
without  perfect  certainty. 

42.  It  would  have  been  impossible  for 
a  man  endowed  with  such  intrepidity  and 
acuteness  as  Malebranche  to  overlook  the 
question,  so  naturally  raised  by  this  skep- 
tical theory,  as  to  the  objective  existence 
of  an  external  world.  There  is  no  neces- 
sary connexion,  he  observes,  between  the 
presence  of  an  idea  in  the  soul  and  the  ex- 
istence of  a  thing  which  it  represents,  as 
dreams  and  delirium  prove.  Yet  we  may 
be  confident  that  extension,  figure,  and 
movement  do  generally  exist  without  us 
when  we  perceive  them.  These  are  not 
imaginary ;  we  are  not  deceived  in  believ- 
ing their  reality,  though  it  is  very  difficult 
to  prove  it.  But  it  is  far  otherwise  with 
colours,  smells,  or  sounds,  for  these  do 
not  exist  at  all  beyond  the  mind.  This  he 
proceeds  to  show  at  considerable  length'.* 
In  one  of  the  illustrations  subsequently 
written  in  order  to  obviate  objections,  and 
subjoined  to  the  Recherche  de  la  Verite, 
Malebranche  comes  again  to  this  problem 
of  the  reality  of  matter,  and  concludes  by 
subverting  every  argument  in  its  favour 
except  what  he  takes  to  be  the  assertion 
of  Scripture.  Berkeley,  who  did  not  see 
this  in  the  same  light,  had  scarcely  a  step 
to  take  in  his  own  famous  theory,  which 
we  may  consider  as  having  been  antici- 
pated by  Malebranche,  with  the  important 
exception  that  what  was  only  skepticism 
and  denial  of  certainty  in  the  one,  became 
a  positive  and  dogmatic  affirmation  in  the 
other. 

43.  In  all  our  sensations  there  are  four 
things  distinct  in  themselves,  but  which, 
examined  as  they  arise  simultaneously, 
we  are  apt  to  confound;  these  are  the 
action  of  the  object,  the  effect  upon  the 
organ  of  sense,  the  mere  sensation,  and 
the  judgment  we  form  as  to  its  cause.  We 
fall  into  errors  as  to  all  these,  confound- 
ing the  sensation  with  the  action  of  bod- 
ies, as  when  we  say  there  is  heat  in  the 
fire  or  colour  in  the  rose,  or  confounding 
the  motion  of  the  nerves  with  sensation, 
as  when  we  refer  heat  to  the  hand ;  but, 


ward  in  a  controversy  with  Regis  on  this  particu- 
'ar  question  of  the  horizontal  moon. 
«  L.  i.,  c.  10. 


FROM  1650  TO  1700. 


311 


most  of  all,  in  drawing  mistaken  infer- 
ences as  to  the  nature  of  objects  from  our 
sensations.*  It  may  be  here  remarked, 
that  what  Malebranche  has  properly  call- 
ed the  judgment  of  the  mind  as  to  the 
cause  of  its  sensations,  is  precisely  what 
Reid  denominates  perception  ;  a  term  less 
clear,  and  which  seems  to  have  led  some 
of  his  school  into  important  errors.  The 
language  of  the  Scottish  philosopher  ap- 
pears to  imply,  that  he  considered  percep- 
tion as  a  distinct  and  original  faculty  of 
the  mind  rather  than  what  it  is,  a  com- 
plex operation  of  the  judgment  and  mem- 
ory, applying  knowledge  already  acquired 
by  experience.  Neither  he  nor  his  dis- 
ciple Stewart,  though  aware  of  the  mis- 
takes that  have  arisen  in  this  province  of 
metaphysics  by  selecting  our  instances 
from  the  phenomena  of  vision  instead  of 
the  other  senses,  has  avoided  the  same 
source  of  error.  The  sense  of  sight  has 
the  prerogative  of  enabling  us  to  pro- 
nounce instantly  on  the  external  cause  of 
our  sensation ;  and  this  perception  is  so 
intimately  blended  with  the  sensation  it- 
self, that  it  has  not  to  our  minds,  whatev- 
er may  be  the  case  with  young  children, 
the  least  appearance  of  a  judgment.  But 
we  need  only  make  our  experiment  upon 
sound  or  smell,  and  we  shall  at  once  ac- 
knowledge that  there  is  no  sort  of  neces- 
sary connexion  between  the  sensation  and 
our  knowledge  of  its  corresponding  exter- 
nal object  We  hear  sounds  continually 
which  we  are  incapable  of  referring  to  any 
particular  body  ;  nor  does  any  one,  I  sup- 
pose, deny  that  it  is  by  experience  alone 
we  learn  to  pronounce,  with  more  or  less 
of  certainty  according  to  its  degree,  on 
the  causes  from  which  these  sensations 
proceed. 

44.  Sensation  he  defines  to  be  "  a  mod- 
ification of  the  soul  in  relation  to  some- 
thing which  passes  in  the  body  to  which 
she  is  united."  These  sensations  we 
know  by  experience  ;  it  is  idle  to  go  about 
defining  and  explaining  them  ;  this  cannot 
be  clone  by  words.  It  is  an  error,  ac- 
cording to  Malebranche,  to  believe  that 
all  men  have  like  sensations  from  the 
same  objects.  In  this  he  goes  farther 
than  Pascal,  who  thinks  it  probable  that 
they  have,  while  Malebranche  holds  it  in- 
dubitable, from  the  organs  of  men  being 
constructed  differently,  that  they  do  not 
receive  similar  impressions ;  instancing 
music,  some  smells  and  flavours,  and  many 
other  things  of  the  same  kind.  But  it  is 
obvious  to  reply  that  he  has  argued  from 
the  exception  to  the  rule ;  the  great  ma- 


*  C.  12. 


jority  of  mankind  agreeing  as  to  musical 
sounds  (which  is  the  strongest  case  that 
can  be  put  against  his  paradox)  and  most 
other  sensations.  That  the  sensations  of 
different  men,  subject  to  such  exceptions, 
if  not  strictly  alike,  are,  so  to  say,  in  a 
constant  ratio,  seems  as  indisputable  as 
any  conclusion  we  can  draw  from  their 
testimony. 

45.  The  second  book  of  Malebranche's 
treatise  relates  to   the  imagination,  and 
the  errors  connected  with  it.     "  The  ima- 
gination consists  in  the  power  of  the  mind 
to  form  images  of  objects  by  producing  a 
change  in  the  fibres  of  that  part  of  the 
brain,  which  may  be  called  principal,  be- 
cause it  corresponds  with  all  parts  of  the 
body,  and  is  the  place  where  the  soul,  if 
we  may  so  speak,  immediately  resides." 
This  he  supposes  to  be  where  all  the  fila- 
ments of  the  brain  terminate  ;  so  difficult 
was  it,  especially  in  that  age,  for  a  philos- 
opher who  had  the  clearest  perception  of 
the  soul's  immateriality  to  free  himself 
from  the  analogies  of  extended  presence 
and  material  impulse.     The  imagination, 
he  says,  comprehends  two  things ;   the 
action  of  the  will,  and  the  obedience  of  the 
animal  spirits  which  trace  images  on  the 
brain.     The  power  of  conception  depends 
partly  upon  the  strength  of  those  animal 
spirits,  partly  on  the  qualities  of  the  brain 
itself.    For  just  as  the  size,  the  depth,  and 
the  clearness  of  the  lines  in  an  engraving 
depend  on  the  force  with  which  the  graver 
acts,  and  on  the  obedience  which  the  cop- 
per yields  to  it,  so  the  depth  and  clearness 
of  the  traces  of  the  imagination  depend 
on  the  force  of  the  animal  spirits,  and  on 
the  constitution  of  the  fibres  of  the  brain ; 
and  it  is  the  difference  of  these  which  oc- 
casions almost  the  whole  of  that  vast  dif- 
ference we  find  in  the  capacities  of  men. 

46.  This  arbitrary,  though  rather  spe- 
cious hypothesis,  which,  in  the  present 
more  advanced  state  of  physiology,  a  phi- 
losopher might  not  in  all  points  reject,  but 
would  certainly  not  assume,  is  spread  out 
by  Malebranche  over  a  large  part  of  his 
work,   and  especially  the   second  book. 
The  delicacy  of  the  fibres  of  the  brain,  he 
supposes,  is  one  of  the  chief  causes  of  our 
not  giving  sufficient  application  to  difficult 
subjects.    Women  possess  this  delicacy, 
and  hence  have  more  intelligence  than 
men  as  to  all  sensible  objects ;  but  what- 
ever is  abstract  is  to  them  incomprehensi- 
ble.    The  fibres  are  soft  in  children,  and 
become  stronger  with  age,  the  greatest 
perfection  of  the  understanding  being  be- 
tween thirty  and  fifty  ;  but  with  prejudiced 
men,  and  especially  when  they  are  ad- 
vanced in  life,  the  hardness  of  the  cerebral 


312 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


fibre  confirms  them  in  error.  For  we  can 
understand  nothing  without  attention,  nor 
attend  to  it  without  having  a  strong  image 
in  the  brain,  nor  can  that  image  be  formed 
without  a  suppleness  and  susceptibility  of 
motion  in  the  brain  itself.  It  is  therefore 
highly  useful  to  get  the  habit  of  thinking 
on  all  subjects,  and  thus  to  give  the  brain 
a  facility  of  motion  analogous  to  that  of 
the  fingers  in  playing  on  a  musical  instru- 
ment. And  this  habit  is  best  acquired  by 
seeking  truth  in  difficult  things  while  we 
are  young,  because  it  is  then  that  the  fibres 
are  most  easily  bent  in  all  directions.* 

47.  This  hypothesis,  carried  so  far  as 
it  has  been  by  Malebranche,  goes  very 
great  lengths  in  asserting  not  merely  a 
connexion  between  the  cerebral  motions 
and  the  operations  of  the  mind,  but  some- 
thing like  a  subordination  of  the  latter  to 
a  plastic  power  in  the  animal  spirits  of  the 
brain.  For  if  the  differences  in  the  intel- 
lectual powers  of  mankind,  and  also,  as 
he  afterward  maintains,  in  their  moral 
emotions,  are  to  be  accounted  for  by  mere 
bodily  configuration  as  their  regulating 
cause,  little  more  than  a  naked  individual- 
ity of  consciousness  seems  to  be  left  to 
the  immaterial  principle.  No  one,  how- 
ever, whether  he  were  staggered  by  this 
difficulty  or  not,  had  a  more  decided  con- 
viction of  the  essential  distinction  between 
mind  and  matter  than  this  disciple  of  Des- 
cartes. The  soul,  he  says,  does  not  be- 
come body,  nor  the  body  soul,  by  their 
union.  Each  substance  remains  as  it  is, 
the  soul  incapable  of  extension  and  mo- 
tion, the  body  incapable  of  thought  and 
desire.  All  the  alliance  between  soul  and 
body  which  is  known  to  us  consists  in  a 
natural  and  mutual  correspondence  of  the 
thoughts  of  the  former  with  the  traces  on 
the  brain,  and  of  its  emotions  with  the 
traces  of  the  animal  spirits.  As  soon  as 
the  soul  receives  new  ideas,  new  traces 
are  imprinted  on  the  brain ;  and  as  soon 
as  external  objects  imprint  new  traces, 
the  soul  receives  new  ideas.  Not  that  it 
contemplates  these  traces,  for  it  has  no 
knowledge  of  them ;  nor  that  the  traces 
contain  the  ideas,  since  they  have  no  re- 
lation to  them  ;  nor  that  the  soul  receives 
her  ideas  from  the  traces,  for  it  is  incon- 
ceivable that  the  soul  should  receive  any- 
thing from  the  body,  and  become  more 
enlightened,  as  some  philosophers  (mean- 
ing Gassendi)  express  it,  by  turning  itself 
towards  the  phantasms  in  the  brain.  Thus, 
also,  when  the  soul  wills  that  the  arm 
should  move,  the  arm  moves,  though  she 
does  not  even  know  what  else  is  neces- 


*  L.  ii.,  c.  1. 


sary  for  its  motion ;  and  thus,  when  the 
animal  spirits  are  put  into  movement,  the 
soul  is  disturbed,  though  she  does  not 
even  know  that  there  are  animal  spirits 
in  the  body. 

48.  These  remarks  of  Malebranche  it  is 
important  to  familiarize  to  our  minds;  and 
those  who  reflect  upon  them  will  neither 
fall  into  the  gross  materialism  to  which 
many  physiologists  appear  prone,  nor,  on 
the  other  hand,  out  of  fear  of  allowing  too 
much  to  the  bodily  organs,  reject  any  suf- 
ficient proof  that  may  be  adduced  for  the 
relation  between  the  cerebral  system  and 
the  intellectual  processes.   These  opposite 
errors  are  by  no  means  uncommon  in  the 
present  age.     But,  without  expressing  an 
opinion  on  that  peculiar  hypothesis  which 
is  generally  called  phrenology,  we  might 
ask  whether  it  is  not  quite  as  conceivable 
that  a  certain  state  of  portions  of  the  brain 
may  be  the  antecedent  condition  of  mem- 
ory or  imagination,  as  that  a  certain  state 
of  nervous  filaments  may  be,  what  we 
know  it  is,  an  invariable  antecedent  of 
sensation.     In  neither  instance  can  there 
be  any  resemblance  or  proper  representa- 
tion of  the  organic  motion  transferred  to 
the  soul ;  nor  ought  we  to  employ,  even 
in  metaphor,  the  analogies  of  impulse  or 
communication.     But  we  have  two  phae- 
nomena,  between  which,  by  the  constitu- 
tion of  our  human  nature,  and  probably 
by  that  of  the  very  lowest  animals,  there 
is  a  perpetual  harmony  and  concomitance  ; 
an  ultimate  fact,  according  to  the  present 
state  of  our  faculties,  which  may  in  some 
senses  be  called  mysterious,  inasmuch  as 
we  can  neither  fully  apprehend  its  final 
causes,  nor  all  the  conditions  of  its  oper- 
ation, but   one  which   seems  not   to  in- 
volve  any   appearance   of  contradiction, 
and  should,  therefore,  not  lead  us  into  the 
useless  perplexity  of  seeking  a  solution 
that  is  almost  evidently  beyond  our  reach. 

49.  The  association  of  ideas  is  far  more 
extensively  developed  by  Malebranche  in 
this  second  book  than  by  any  of  the  old 
writers,  not  even,  I  think,  with  the  ex- 
ception of  Hobbes  ;  though  he  is  too  fond 
of  mixing  the  pyschological  facts  which 
experience  furnishes  with  his  precarious, 
however  plausible,  theory  of  cerebral  tra- 
ces.    Many  of  his  remarks  are  acute  and 
valuable.     Thus,  he  observes  that  writers 
who  make  use  of  many  new  terms  in  sci- 
ence, under  the  notion  of  being  more  in- 
telligible, are  often  not  understood  at  all, 
whatever  care  they  may  take  to  define 
their  words.     We  grant  in  theory  their 
right  to  do  this  ;  but  nature  resists.     The 
new  words,  having  no  ideas  previously 
associated  with  them,  fall  out  of  the  read- 


FROM  1650  TO  1700. 


313 


er's  mind,  except  in  mathematics,  where 
they  can  be  rendered  evident  by  diagrams. 
In  all  this  part  Malebranche  expatiates  on 
the  excessive  deference  shown  to  author- 
ity, which,  because  it  is  great  in  religion, 
we  suppose  equally  conclusive  in  philoso- 
phy, and  on  the  waste  of  lime  which  mere 
reading  of  many  books  entails;  experience, 
he  says,  having  always  shown  that  those 
who  have  studied  most  are  the  very  per- 
sons who  have  led  the  world  into  the 
greatest  errors.  The  whole  of  the  chap- 
ters on  this  subject  is  worth  perusal. 

50.  In  another  part  of  this  second  book 
Malebranche  has  opened  a  new  and  fertile 
vein,  which  he  is  far  from  having  exhaust- 
ed, on  what  he  calls  the  contagiousness 
of  a  powerful  imagination.     Minds  of  this 
character,  he  observes,  rule  those  which 
are  feebler  in  conception :  they  give  them, 
by  degrees,  their  own  habit ;  they  impress 
their  own  type  ;    and,  as  men  of  strong 
imagination  are  themselves,  for  the  most 
part,  very  unreasonable,  their  brains  be- 
ing cut  up,  as  it  were,  by  deep  traces, 
which  leave  no  room  for  anything  else, 
no  source  of  human  error  is  more  dan- 
gerous than  this  contagiousness  of  their 
disorder.     This   he   explains,  in  his   fa- 
vourite physiology,  by  a  certain  natural 
sympathy  between  the  cerebral  fibres  of 
different  men,  which,  being  wanting  vin 
any  one  with  whom  we  converse,  it  is 
vain  to  expect  that  he  will  enter  into  our 
views,  and  we  must  look  for  a  more  sym- 
pathetic tissue  elsewhere. 

51.  The   moral  observations  of  Male- 
branche are  worth  more  than  these  .hy- 
potheses with  which  they  are  mingled. 
Men    of    powerful    imagination    express 
themselves  with  force  and  vivacity,  though 
not  always  in  the  most  natural  manner, 
and  often  with  great  animation  of  ges- 
ture ;  they  deal  with  subjects  that  excite 
sensible  images,  and  from  all  this  they 
acquire    a   great    power   of    persuasion. 
This  is  exercised  especially  over  persons 
in  subordinate  relations  ;    and  thus  chil- 
dren,   servants,  or   courtiers    adopt    the 
opinions  of  their  superiors.     Even  in  re- 
ligion, nations  have  been  found  to  take  up 
the  doctrines  of  their  rulers,  as  has  been 
seen    in    England.     In   certain   authors, 
who    influence   our   minds   without    any 
weight  of  argument,  this  despotism  of  a 
strong  imagination  is  exercised,  which  he 
particularly  illustrates  by  the  examples 
of    Tertullian,    Seneca,    and   Montaigne. 
The  contagious  power  of  imagination  is 
also  manifest  in  the  credulity  of  mankind 
as  to  apparitions  and  witchcraft ;   and  he 
observes  that,  where  witches  are  burned, 
there   is   generally  a  great  number  of 

VOL.  II.— R  R 


them,  while,  since  some  parliaments  have 
ceased  to  punish  for  sorcery,  the  offence 
has  diminished  within  their  jurisdiction. 

52.  The  application  which  these  stri- 
king and  original  views  will  bear,  spreads 
far  into  the  regions  of  moral  philosophy, 
in  the  largest  sense  of  that  word.     It  is 
needless  to  dwell  upon,  and  idle  to  cavil 
at  the  physiological   theories   to   which 
Malebranche  has  had  recourse.     False  let 
them  be,  what  is  derived  from  the  experi- 
ence of  human  nature  will  always    be 
true.     No  one  general  phenomenon  in  the 
intercommunity  of  mankind   with  each 
other  is  more  worthy  to  be  remembered, 
or  more  evident  to  an  observing  eye,  than 
this  contagiousness,  as  Malebranche  phra- 
ses it,  of  a  powerful  imagination,  espe- 
cially when  assisted  by  any  circumstances 
that  secure   and  augment   its  influence. 
The  history  of  every  popular  delusion, 
and  even  the  petty  events  of  every  day  in 
private  life,  are  witnesses  to  its  power. 

53.  The  third  book  is  entitled,  Of  the 
Understanding   or   Pure    Spirit    (1'Esprit 
Pur).      By   the    pure   understanding   he 
means  the  faculty  of  the  soul  to  know  the 
reality  of  certain  things  without  the  aid 
of  images  in  the  brain.     And  he  warns 
the  reader  that  the  inquiry  will  be  found 
dry  and  obscure.    The  essence  of  the  soul, 
he  says,  following  his  Cartesian  theory, 
consists  in  thinking,  as  that  of  matter  does 
in  extension  ;  will,  imagination,  memory, 
and  the  like,  are  modifications  of  thought 
or  forms  of  the  soul,  as  water,  food,  or  fire 
are  modifications  of  matter.    This  sort  of 
expression  has  been  adopted  by  our  met- 
aphysicians of  the  Scots  school  in  prefer- 
ence to  the  ideas  of  reflection,  as  these 
operations  are  called  by  Locke.     But  by 
the  word  thought  (pensee)  he  does   not 
mean  these  modifications,  but  the  soul  or 
thinking  principle  absolutely,  capable  of  all 
these  modifications,  as  extension  is  nei- 
ther round  nor  square,  though  capable  of 
either  form.     The  power  of  volition,  and, 
by  parity  of  reasoning,  we  may  add,  of 
thinking,  is  inseparable  from  the  soul,  but 
not  the  acts  of  volition  or  thinking  them- 
selves ;  as  a  body  is  always  moveable, 
though  it  be  not  always  in  motion. 

54.  In  this  book  it  does  not  seem  that 
Malebranche  has  been  very  successful  in 
distinguishing  the  ideas  of  pure  intellect 
from  those  which  the  senses  or  imagination 
present  to  us  ;  nor  do  we  clearly  sec  what 
he  means  by  the  former,  except  those  of 
existence  and  a  few  more.     But  he  now 
hastens  to  his  peculiar  hypothesis  as  to 
the  mode  of  perception.     By  ideas  he  un- 
derstands the  immediate  object  of  the  soul, 
which  all  the  world,  he  supposes,  will 


314 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


agree  not  to  be  the  same  with  the  exter 
nal  object  of  sense.  Ideas  are  real  exist 
ences  ;  for  they  have  properties,  and  rep 
resent  very  different  things  ;  but  nothing 
can  have  no  property.  How,  then,  do 
they  enter  into  the  mind,  or  become  pres 
ent  to  it  ?  Is  it,  as  the  Aristotelians  hold 
by  means  of  species  transmitted  from  the 
external  objects  ]  Or  are  they  producec 
instantaneously  by  some  faculty  of  the 
soul !  Or  have  they  been  created  anc 
posited,  as  it  were,  in  the  soul  when  i 
began  to  exist  1  Or  does  God  produce 
them  in  us  whenever  we  think  or  per 
ceive  ]  Or  does  the  soul  contain  in  her 
self,  in  some  transcendent  manner,  what- 
ever is  in  the  sensible  world  1  These  hy- 
potheses of  elder  philosophers,  some  of 
which  are  not  quite  intelligibly  distinc 
from  each  other,  Malebranche  having  suc- 
cessively refuted,  comes  to  what  he  con- 
siders the  only  possible  alternative,  name- 
ly, that  the  soul  is  united  to  an  all-perfect 
Being,  in  whom  all  that  belongs  to  hi 
creatures  is  contained.  Besides  the  ex- 
clusion of  every  other  supposition  which 
by  his  sorites,  he  conceives  himself  to 
have  given,  he  subjoins  several  direct  ar- 
guments in  favour  of  his  own  theory,  but 
in  general,  so  obscure  and  full  of  arbitrary 
assumption  that  they  cannot  be  stated  in 
this  brief  sketch.* 

55.  The  mysticism  of  this  eminent  man 
displays  itself  throughout  this  part  of  hi 
treatise,  but  rarely  leading  him  into  that 
figurative  and  unmeaning  language  from 
which  the  inferior  class  of  enthusiasts  are 
never  free.  His  philosophy,  which  has 
hitherto  appeared  so  skeptical,  assumes 
now  the  character  of  intense,  irresistible 
conviction.  The  skepticism  of  Male- 
branche is  merely  ancillary  to  his  mys- 
ticism. His  philosophy,  if  we  may  use 
so  quaint  a  description  of  it,  is  subjectivity 
leading  objectivity  in  chains.  He  seems 
to  triumph  in  his  restoration  of  the  inner 
man  to  his  pristine  greatness,  by  subdu- 
ing those  false  traitors  and  rebels,  the 
nerves  and  brain,  to  whom,  since  the  great 
lapse  of  Adam,  his  posterity  had  been  in 
thrall.  It  has  been  justly  remarked  by 
Brown,  that  in  the  writings  of  Malebranche, 
as  in  all  theological  metaphysicians  of  the 
Catholic  Church,  we  perceive  the  com- 
manding influence  of  Augustin.f  From 
him  rather  than,  in  the  first  instance,  from 
Plato  or  Plotinus,  it  may  be  suspected  that 
Malebranche,  who  was  not  very  learned 


*  L.  iii.,c.  6. 

t  Philosophy  of  the  Human  Mind,  Lecture  xxx. 
Brown's  own  position,  that  "  the  idea  is  the  mind," 
seems  to  me  as  paradoxical,  in  expression  at  least, 
as  anything  in  Malebranche. 


in  ancient  philosophy,  derived  the  mani- 
fest tinge  of  Platonism,  that,  mingling 
with  his  warm  admiration  of  Descartes, 
has  rendered  him  a  link  between  two  fa- 
mous systems  not  very  harmonious  in 
their  spirit  and  turn  oi  reasoning.  But 
his  genius,  more  clear,  or,  at  least,  disci- 
plined in  a  more  accurate  logic  than  that 
of  Augustin,  taught  him  to  dissent  from 
that  father  by  denying  objective  reality  to 
eternal  truths,  such  as  that  two  and  two 
are  equal  to  four;  descending  thus  one 
step  from  unintelligible  mysticism. 

56.  "  Let  us  repose,"  he  concludes,  "  in 
this  tenet,  that  God  is  the  intelligible 
world  or  the  place  of  spirits,  like  as  the  ma- 
terial world  is  the  place  of  bodies ;  that  it 
is  from  his  power  they  receive  all  their 
modifications ;  that  it  is  in  his  wisdom 
they  find  all  their  ideas ;  and  that  it  is  by 
his  love  they  feel  all  their  well-regulated 
emotions.  And  since  his  power,  and  his 
wisdom,  and  his  love  are  but  himself,  let 
us  believe,  with  St.  Paul,  that  he  is  not  far 
from  each  of  us,  and  that  in  him  we  live, 
and  move,  and  have  our  being."  But 
sometimes  Malebranche  does  not  content 
himself  with  these  fine  effusions  of  piety. 
His  theism,  as  has  often  been  the  case 
with  mystical  writers,  expands  till  it  be- 
comes, as  it  were,  dark  with  excessive 
light,  and  almost  vanishes  in  its  own  efful- 
gence. He  has  passages  that  approach 
very  closely  to  the  pantheism  of  Jordano 
Bruno  and  Spinosa ;  one  especially,  where- 
in he  vindicates  the  Cartesian  argument 
for  a  being  of  necessary  existence  in  a 
strain  which  perhaps  renders  that  argu- 
ment less  incomprehensible,  but  certainly 
cannot  be  said,  in  any  legitimate  sense,  to 
establish  the  existence  of  a  Deity.* 

57.  It  is  from  the  effect  which  tke  in- 
vention of  so  original  and  striking  an  hy- 
pothesis, and  one  that  raises  such  magnifi- 
cent conceptions  of  the  union  between  the 
Deity  and  the  human  soul,  would  produce 
on  a  man  of  an  elevated  and  contemplative 
genius,  that  we  must  account  for  Male- 
aranche's  forgetfulness  of  much  that  he 
las  judiciously  said  in  part  of  his  treatise, 
on  the  limitation  of  our  faculties,  and  the 
mperfect  knowledge  we  can  attain  as  to 
our  intellectual  nature.  For,  if  we  should 
admit  that  ideas  are  substances,  and  not 
accidents  of  the  thinking  spirit,  it  would 
Still  be  doubtful  whether  he  has  wholly 
numerated,  or  conclusively  refuted,  the 
)ossible  hypotheses  as  to  their  existence 
n  the  mind.  And  his  more  direct  reason- 
ngs  labour  under  the  same  difficulty  from 
he  manifest  incapacity  of  our  understand- 


*  L.  iii.,  c.  8. 


FROM  1650  TO  1700. 


ings  to  do  more  than  form  conjectures 
and  dim  notions  of  what  we  can  so  im- 
perfectly bring  before  them. 

58.  The  fourth  and  fifth  books  of  the 
Recherche  de  la  Verite  treat  of  the  natural 
inclinations  and  passions,  and  of  the  errors 
which  spring  from  those  sources.     These 
books    are   various    and   discursive,  and 
very  characteristic  of  the  author's  mind  ; 
abounding  with  a  mystical  theology,  which 
extends  to  an  absolute  negation  of  second- 
ary causes,  as  well  as  with  poignant  satire 
on  the  follies  of  mankind.     In  every  part 
of  his  treatise,  but   especially   in   these 
books,  Malebranche  pursues  with  unspa- 
ring ridicule  two  classes,  the  men  of  learn- 
ing and   the   men  of  the   world.     With 
Aristotle  and  the  whole  school  of  his  disci- 
ples he  has  an  inveterate  quarrel,  and  omits 
no  occasion  of  holding  them  forth  to  con- 
tempt.   This  seems  to  have  been  in  a  great 
measure  warranted  by  their  dogmatism, 
their  bigotry,  their  pertinacious  resistance 
to  modern  science,  especially  to  the  Car- 
tesian philosophy,  which  Malebranche  in 
general  followed.     "  Let   them,"  he  ex- 
claims, "  prove,  if  they  can,  that  Aristotle, 
or  any  of  themselves,  has  deduced  one 
truth   in  physical   philosophy   from   any 
principle  peculiar  to  himself,  and  we  will 
promise  never  to  speak  of  him  but  in  eu- 
logy."*    But,  until  this  gauntlet  should  be 
taken  up,  he  thought  himself  at  liberty  to 
use  very  different  language.   "  The  works 
of  the  Stagirite,"  he   observes,  "  are  so 
obscure  and  full  of  indefinite  words,  that 
we  have  a  colour  for  ascribing  to  him  the 
most  opposite  opinions.   In  fact,  we  make 
him  say  what  we  please,  because  he  says 
very  little,  though  with  much  parade  ;  just 
as  children  fancy  bells  to  say  anything, 
because  they  make  a  great  noise,  and,  in 
reality,  say  nothing  at  all." 

59.  But'  such  philosophers  are  not  the 
only  class  of  the  learned  he  depreciates. 
Those  who   pass  their   time    in    gazing 
through  telescopes,  and  distribute  provin- 
ces in  the  moon  to  their  friends ;  those  who 
pore  over  worthless  books,  such  as  the 
Rabbinical  and  other  Oriental  writers,  or 
compose  folio   volumes   on  the  animals 
mentioned  in  Scripture,  while  they  can 
hardly  tell  what  are  found  in  their  own 
province;  those  who 'accumulate  quota- 
tions to  inform  us,  not  of  truth,  but  of  what 
other  men  have  taken  for  truth,  are  ex- 
posed to  his  sharp,  but  doubtless  exag- 
gerated and  unreasonable  ridicule.     Male- 
branche, like  many  men  of  genius,  was 
much  too  intolerant  of  what  might  give 
pleasure  to  other  men,  and  too  narrow  in 

*  L.  iv.,  c.  3. 


his  measure  of  utility.  He  seems  to  think 
little  valuable  in  human  learning  but  met- 
aphysics and  algebra.*  From  the  learned 
he  passes  to  the  great ;  and,  after  enumer- 
ating the  circumstances  which  obstruct 
their  perception  of  truth,  comes  to  the 
blunt  conclusion  that  men  "  much  raised 
above  the  rest  by  rank,  dignity,  or  wealth, 
or  whose  minds  are  occupied  in  gaining 
these  advantages,  are  remarkably  subject 
to  error,  and  hardly  capable  of  discerning 
any  truths  which  lie  a  little  out  of  the 
common  way."f 

60.  The  sixth  and  last  book  announces 
a  method  of  directing  our  pursuit  of  truth, 
by  which  we  may  avoid  the  many  errors 
to  which  our  understandings  are  liable. 
It  promises  to  give  them  all  the  perfection 
of  which  our  nature  is  capable,  by  pre- 
scribing the  rules  we  should  invariably  ob- 
serve. But  it  must,  I  think,  be  confessed, 
that  there  is  less  originality  in  this  method 
than  we  might  expect.  We  find,  howev- 
er, many  acute  and  useful,  if  not  always 
novel,  observations  on  the  conduct  of  the 
understanding,  and  it  may  be  reckoned 
among  the  books  which  would  supply  ma- 
terials for  what  is  still  wanting  to  philo- 
sophical literature,  an  ample  and  useful 
logic.  We  are  so  frequently  inattentive, 
hp  observes,  especially  to  the  pure  ideas 
of  the  understanding,  that  all  resources 
should  be,  employed  to  fix  our  thoughts. 
And  for  this  purpose  we  may  make  use 
of  the  passions,  the  senses,  or  the  imagi- 
nation, but  the  second  with  less  danger 
than  the  first,  and  the  third  than  the  sec- 
ond. Geometrical  figures  he  ranges  un- 
der the  aids  supplied  to  the  imagination 
rather  than  to  the  senses.  He  dwells 
much  at  length  on  the  utility  of  geometry 
in  fixing  our  attention,  and  of  algebra  in 
compressing  and  arranging  our  thoughts. 
All  sciences,  he  well  remarks,  and  I  do  not 

*  His  rather  amusing  to  find  that,  while  lament- 
ing the  want  of  a  review  of  books,  he  predicts  that 
we  shall  never  see  one,  on  account  of  the  prejudice 
of  mankind  in  favour  of  authors.  The  prophecy 
was  falsified  almost  at  the  time.  On  regarde  ordi- 
nairement  les  auteurs  comme  des  hommes  rares  et 
extraordinaires  et  heaucoup  cloves  au-dessus  des 
autres;  on  les  revere  done  au  lieu  de  les  mepriser 
et  de  les  punir.  Ainsi  il  n'y  a  gueres  d'apparence 
qne  les  homines  erigent  jamais  un  tribunal  pour  ex- 
aminer et  pour  condamner  tous  les  livres,  qm  ne 
font  que  corrompre  la  raison,  c.  8. 

La  plupart  des  livres  de  certains  savans  ne  sont  fab 
riques  q\\'h  coups  de  dictionnnires,  et  ils  n'ont  gueren 
lu  que  \vs  tables  des  livres  qu'ils  client,  ou  quelques 
lieux  communs,  ramasses  de  differens  auteurs.  On 
n'oseroit  entrer  d'avantage  dans  le  detail  de  ces 
choses,  ni  en  donner  des  exemples,  de  peur  de  cno- 
quer  des  personnels  aussi  fieres  et  aussi  bilieuses 
que  sont  ces  faux  savans ;  car  on  ne  prend  pas  plai- 
sir  si  se  faire  injurier  en  Grec  et  en  Arab* 

t  C.9. 


316 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


know  that  it  had  been  said  before,  which 
treat  of  things  distinguishable  by  more  or 
less  in  quantity,  and  which  consequently 
may  be  represented  by  extension,  are  ca- 
pable of  illustration  by  diagrams.  But 
these,  he  conceives,  are  inapplicable,  to 
moral  truths,  though  such  consequences 
may  be  derived  from  them.  Algebra,  how- 
ever, is  far  more  useful  in  improving  the 
understanding  than  geometry,  and  is,  in 
fact,  with  its  sister  arithmetic,  the  best 
means  that  we  possess.*  But  as  men  like 
better  to  exercise  the  imagination  than  the 
pure  intellect,  geometry  is  the  more  fa- 
vourite study  of  the  two. 

61.  Malebranche  may  perhaps  be  thought 
Character  of  to  have  occupied  too  much  of 
Malebranche.  our  attention  at  the  expense  of 
more  popular  writers.  But  for  this  very 
reason,  that  the  Recherche  de  la  Verite  is 
not  at  present  much  read,  I  have  dwelt 
long  on  a  treatise  of  so  great  celebrity  in 
its  own  age,  and  which,  even  more,  per- 
haps, than  the  metaphysical  writings  of 
Descartes,  has  influenced  that  department 
of  philosophy.  Malebranche  never  loses 
sight  of  the  great  principle  of  the  soul's 
immateriality,  even  in  his  long  and  rather 
hypothetical  disquisitions  on  the  instru- 
mentality of  the  brain  in  acts  of  thought ; 
and  his  language  is  far  less  objectionable 
on  this  subject  than  that  of  succeeding 
philosophers.  He  is  always  consistent 
and  clear  in  distinguishing  the  soul  itself 
from  its  modifications  and  properties.  He 
knew  well  and  had  deeply  considered  the 
application  of  mathematical  and  physical 
science  to  the  philosophy  of  the  human 
mind.  He  is  very  copious  and  diligent  in 

*  L.  vi.,  c.  4.  All  conceptions  of  abstract  ideas, 
he  justly  remarks  in  another  place,  are  accompani- 
ed with  some  imagination,  though  we  are  often  not 
aware  of  it:  because  these  ideas  have  no  natural 
images  or  traces  associated  with  them,  but  such 
only  as  the  will  of  man  or  chance  has  given.  Thus 
in  analysis,  however  general  the  ideas,  we  use  let- 
ters and  signs,  always  associated  with  the  ideas  of 
the  things,  though  they  are  not  really  related,  and 
for  this  reason  do  not  give  us  false  and  confused 
notions.  Hence,  he  thinks,  the  ideas  of  things 
which  can  only  be  perceived  by  the  understanding, 
may  become  associated  with  the  traces  on  the  brain, 
1.  v.,  c.  2.  This  is  evidently  as  applicable  to  lan- 
guage as  it  is  to  algebra. 

Cudworth  has  a  somewhat  similar  remark  in  his 
Immutable  Morality,  that  the  cogitations  we  have 
of  corporeal  things  are  usually,  in  his  technical 
style,  both  noematical  and  phantasmatical  together, 
the  one  being,  as  it  were,  the  soul,  and  the<*her  the 
body  of  them.  "  Whenever  we  think  of  a  phantas- 
matical universal  or  universalized  phantasm,  or  a 
thing  which  we  have  no  clear  intellection  of  (as,  for 
example,  of  the  nature  of  arose  in  general),  there 
is  a  complication  of  something  noematical  and 
eomething  phantasmatical  together ;  for  phantasms 
themselves,  as  well  as  sensations,  are  always  indi- 
vidual things." — P.  143. 


illustration,  and  very  clear  in  definition. 
His  principal  errors,  and  the  sources  of 
them  in  his  peculiar  temperament,  have 
appeared  in  the  course  of  these  pages. 
And  to  these  we  may  add  his  maintaining 
some  Cartesian  paradoxes,  such  as  the 
system  of  vortices,  and  the  want  of  sen- 
sation in  brutes.  The  latter  he  deduced 
from  the  immateriality  of  a  thinking  prin- 
ciple, supposing  it  incredible,  though  he 
owns  it  had  been  the  tenet  of  Atigustin, 
that  there  could  be  an  immaterial  spirit  in 
the  lower  animals,  and  also  from  the  in- 
compatibility of  any  unmerited  suffering 
with  the  justice  of  God.*  Nor  was  Male- 
branche exempt  from  some  prejudices  of 
scholastic  theology  ;  and,  though  he  gen- 
erally took  care  to  avoid  its  technical  lan- 
guage, is  content  to  repel  the  objection  to 
his  denial  of  all  secondary  causation  from 
its  making  God  the  sole  author  of  sin,  by 
saying  that  sin,  being  a  privation  of  right- 
eousness, is  negative,  and,  consequently, 
requires  no  cause. 

62.  Malebranche  bears  a  striking  resem- 
blance to  his  great  contempora-  Compared 
ry  Pascal,  though  they  were  not,  wi">  Pascal. 
I  believe,  in  any  personal  relation  to  each 
other,  nor  could  either  have  availed  him- 
self of  the  other's  writings.     Both  of  ar- 
dent minds,  endowed  with  strong  imagi- 
nation and   lively  wit,  sarcastic,   severe, 
fearless,  disdainful  of  popular  opinion  and 
accredited  reputations  ;  both  imbued  with 
the  notion  of  a  vast  difference  between  the 
original  and  actual  state  of  man,  and  thus 
solving  many  phenomena  of  his  being; 
both,  in  different  modes  and  degrees,  skep- 
tical, and  rigorous  in  the  exaction  of  proof; 
both  undervaluing  all  human  knowledge 
beyond  the  regions  of  mathematics  ;  both 
of  rigid  strictness  in  morals,  and  a  fervid, 
enthusiastic  piety.     But  in  Malebranche 
there  is  a  less  overpowering  sense  of  re- 
ligion ;  his  eye  roams  unblenched  in  the 
light,  before  which  that  of  Pascal  had  been 
veiled  in  awe ;  he  is  sustained  by  a  less 
timid  desire  of  truth,  by  greater  confidence 
in  the  inspirations  that  are  breathed  into 
his  mind  ;  he  is  more  quick  in  adopting  a 
novel  opinion,  but  less  apt  to  embrace  a 
sophism  in  defence  of  an  old  one  ;  he  has 
less  energy,  but  more  copiousness  and  va- 
riety. 

63.  Arnauld,  who,   though   at  first  in 
personal  friendship  with  Male-  ArnaU|,i  on 
branche,  held  no   friendship  in  true  and 

a  balance  with  his  rigid  love  of  false  Klea'- 


*  This  he  had  borrowed  from  a  maxim  of  Augus- 
tin :  sub  justo  Deoquisquam  nisi  rnereatur,  miseT 
esse  non  potest ;  whence,  it  seerns,  that  father  had 
inferred  the  imputation  of  original  sin  to  infants:  a 
happy  mode  of  escaping  the  difficulty. 


FROM  1650  TO  1700. 


317 


truth,  combated  the  chief  points  of  the 
other's  theory  in  a  treatise  oa  true  and 
false  ideas.  This  work  I  have  never  had 
the  good  fortune  to  see ;  it.  appears  to  as- 
sail a  leading  principle  of  Malebranche, 
the  separate  existence  of  ideas,  as  objects 
in  the  mind  independent  and  distinguish- 
able  from  the  sensation  itself.  Arnauld 
maintained,  as  Reid  and  others  have  since 
done,  that  we  do  not  perceive  or  feel  ideas, 
but  real  objects,  and  thus  led  the  way  to 
a  school  which  has  been  called  that  of 
Scotland,  and  has  had  a  great  popularity 
among  our  later  metaphysicians.  Jt  would 
require  a  critical  examination  of  his  work, 
which  I  have  not  been  able  to  make,  to 
determine  precisely  what  were  the  opin- 
ions of  this  philosopher.* 

64.  The  peculiar   hypothesis  of  Male- 
branche, that  we  see  all  things  in  God, 
was  examined  by  Locke  in  a  short  piece, 
contained  in  the  collection  of  his  works. 
It  will  readily  be  conceived  that  two  phi- 
losophers, one  eminently  mystical,  and  en- 
deavouring upon  this  highly  transcendent- 
al theme  to  grasp  in   his  mind  and   ex- 
press in  his  language  something  beyond 
the  faculties  of  man,  the  other  as  charac- 
teristically averse  to  mystery,  and  slow  to 
admit  anything  without  proof,  would  have 
hardly  any  common  ground  even  to  fight 
upon.     Locke,  therefore,  does  little  else 
than  complain  that  he  cannot  understand 
what  Malebranche  has  advanced ;  and  most 
of  his  readers  will  probably  find  them- 
selves in  the  same  position. 

65.  He  had,  however,  an  English  sup- 
porter of  some  celebrity  in  his  own 

rns'  age,  Norris ;  a  disciple,  and  one  of 
the  latest  we  have  had,  of  the  Platonic 
school  of  Henry  More.  The  principal 
metaphysical  treatise  of  Norris,  his  Es- 
say on  the  Ideal  World,  was  published  in 
two  parts,  1701  and  1702.  It  does  not, 
therefore,  come  within  our  limits.  Nor- 
ris is  more  thoroughly  Platonic  than  Mal- 
ebranche, to  whom,  however,  he  pays 
great  deference,  and  adopts  his  fundament- 
al hypothesis  on  seeing  all  things  in  God. 
He  is  a  writer  of  fine  genius  and  a  noble 
elevation  of  moral  sentiments,  such  as 
predisposes  men  for  the  Platonic  schemes 
of  theosophy.  He  looked  up  to  Augus- 
tin  with  as  much  veneration  as  to  Plato, 
and  respected,  more,  perhaps,  than  Male- 
branche, certainly  more  than  the  general- 
ity of  English  writers,  the  theological  met- 
aphysicians of  the  schools.  With  these 
he  mingled  some  visions  of  a  later  mysti- 
cism. But  his  reasonings  will  seldom 
bear  a  close  scrutiny. 

•  Brucker.    Buhle.    Reid's  Intellectual  Powers. 


66.  In  the  Thoughts  of  Pascal  we  find 
many  striking  remarks  on  the  logic 

of  that  science  with  which  he  was  Pascal- 
peculiarly  conversant,  and  upon  the  gen- 
eral foundations  of  certainty.  He  had  re- 
flected deeply  upon  the  skeptical  objec- 
tions to  all  human  reasoning ;  and  though 
sometimes,  out  of  a  desire  to  elevate  reli- 
gious faith  at  its  expense,  he  seems  to 
consider  them  unanswerable,  he  was  too 
clear-headed  to  believe  them  just.  "  Rea- 
son," he  says,  "  confounds  the  dogmatists, 
and  nature  the  skeptics."*  •'  We  have  an 
incapacity  of  demonstration  which  one 
cannot  overcome ;  we  have  a  conception 
of  truth  which  the  others  cannot  disturb."! 
He  throws  out  a  notion  of  a  more  com- 
plete method  of  reasoning  than  that  of 
geometry,  wherein  everything  shall  be 
demonstrated,  which,  however,  he  holds 
to  be  unattainable  ;|  and  perhaps  on  this 
account  he  might  think  the  cavils  of  pyr- 
rhonism  invincible  by  pure  reason.  But 
as  he  afterward  admits  that  we  may  have 
a  full  certainty  of  propositions  that  cannot 
be  demonstrated,  such  as  the  infinity  of 
number  and  space,  and  that  such  incapa- 
bility of  direct  proof  is  rather  a  perfection 
than  a  defect,  this  notion  of  a  greater  com- 
pleteness in  evidence  seems  neither  clear 
nor  consistent,  fy 

67.  Geometry,  Pascal  observes,  is  al- 
most the  only  subject   as  to  which  we 
find  truths  wherein  all  men  agree.     And 
one  cause  of  this  is  that  geometers  alone 
regard  the  true   laws  of  demonstration. 
These,  as  enumerated  by  him,  are  eight  in 
number.     1.  To  define  nothing  which  can- 
not be  expressed  in  clearer  terms  than 
those  in  which  it  is  already  expressed.     2. 
To  leave  no  obscure  or  equivocal  terms 
undefined.     3.  To  employ  in  the  definition 
no  termk  not  already  known.     4.  To  omit 
nothing  in  the  principles  from  which  we 
argue  unless  we  are  sure  it  is  granted.     5. 
To  lay  down  no  axiom  which  is  not  per- 
fectly evident.     6.  To  demonstrate   no- 
thing which  is  as  clear  already  as  we  can 
make  it.     7.  To  prove  everything  in  the 
least  doubtful,  by  means  of  self-evident 
axioms,  or  of  propositions  already  demon- 
strated.    8.   To  substitute  mentally  the 


*  (Euvres  cle  Pascal,  vol.  i.,  p.  205.  II  faut  que 
chacun  prenne  parti,  et  si;  range  ndcessairement  ou 
au  dogmatisme,  ou  au  pyrrhonisme  ;  car  qui  pense- 
roil  demeurer  neutre  seroit  pyrrhonien  par  excel- 
lence ;  cette  neutralite  est  1'essence  du  pyrrhonis- 
me, p.  204.  1  do  not  know  that  I  understand  this; 
is  it  not  either  a  self-evident  proposition  or  a  soph- 
ism ?  t  P.  208. 

J  Pensees  de  Pascal,  part  i.,  art  2. 

§  Comme  la  cause  qui  les  rend  incapables  de 
demonstration  n'est  pas  leu:  obsouri'e,  mais  au  con- 
traire  leur  extreme  evidence,  cc  manque  de  preuve 
n'est  pas  un  defaut,  mais  plu*6:  une  perfection. 


318 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


definition  instead  of  the  thing  defined.  Of 
these  rules,  he  says,  the  first,  fourth,  and 
sixth  are  not  absolutely  necessary  in  or- 
der to  avoid  error,  but  the  other  five  are 
indispensable.  Yet,  though  they  may  be 
found  in  books  of  logic,  none  but  the  ge- 
ometers have  paid  any  regard  to  them. 
The  authors  of  these  books  seem  not  to 
have  entered  into  the  spirit  of  their  own 
precepts.  All  other  rules  than  those  he 
has  given  are  useless  or  mischievous ; 
they  contain,  he  says,  the  whole  art  of 
demonstration.* 

68.  The  reverence  of  Pascal,  like  that 
of  Malebranche,  for  what  is  established  in 
religion,  does  not  extend  to  philosophy. 
We  do  not  find  in  them,  as  we  may  some- 
times perceive  in  the  present  day.  all  sorts 
of  prejudices  against  the  liberties  of  the 
human  mind  clustering  together,  like  a 
herd  of  bats,  by  an  instinctive  associa- 
tion.    He  has  the  same  idea  as  Bacon, 
that  the  ancients  were  properly  the  chil- 
dren among  mankind.      Not  only  each 
man,  he  says,  advances  daily  in  science, 
but  all  men  collectively  make  a  constant 
progress,  so  that  all  generations  of  man- 
kind during  so  many  ages  may  be  consid- 
ered as  one  man,  always  subsisting  and 
always  learning  ;  and  the  old  age  of  this 
universal  man  is  not  to  be  sought  in  the 
period  next  to  his  birth,  but  in  that  which 
is  most  removed  from  it.     Those  we  call 
ancients  were  truly  novices  in  all  things  ; 
and  we,  who  have  added  to  all  they  knew 
the  experience  of   so  many  succeeding 
ages,  have  a  better  claim  to  that  antiquity 
which  we  revere  in  them.     In  this,  with 
much  ingenuity  and  much  truth,  there  is 
a  certain  mixture  of  fallacy,  which  I  shall 
not  wait  to  point  out. 

69.  The  genius  of  Pascal  was  admirably 
fitted  for  acute  observation  on  the  consti- 
tution of  human  nature,  if  he  had  not  seen 
everything  through  a  refracting  medium  of 
religious  prejudice.     When  this  does  not 
interfere  to  bias  his  judgment,  he  abounds 
with  fine  remarks,  though  always  a  little 
tending  towards   severity.     One   of   the 
most  useful  and  original  is  the  following  : 
"  When  we  would  show  any  one  that  he 
is  mistaken,  our  best  course  is  to  observe 
on  what  side  he  considers  the  subject,  for 
his  view  of  it  is  generally  right  on  this 
side,  and  admit  to  him  that  he  is  right  so 
far.     He  will  be  satisfied,  with  this  ac- 
knowledgment, that  he  was  not  wrong  in 
his  judgment,  but  only  inadvertent  in  not 
looking  at  the  whole  of  the  case.    For  we 
are  less  ashamed  of  not  having  seen  the 
whole  than  of  being  deceived  in  what  we 


*  CEuvres  de  Pascal,  i.,  66. 


do  see  ;  and  this  may  perhaps  arise  from 
an  impossibility  of  the  understanding's 
being  deceived  in  what  it  does  see,  just  as 
the  perceptions  of  the  senses,  as  such, 
must  be  always  true."* 

70.  The  Cartesian  philosophy  has  been 
supposed  to  have  produced  a  met-  spinosa's 
aphysician  very  divergent  in  most  ethics. 
of  his  theory  from  that  school,  Benedict 
Spinosa.      No  treatise    is  written   in  a 
more  rigidly  geometrical  method  than  his 
Ethics.     It  rests  on  definitions  and  ax- 
ioms, from  which  the  propositions  are  de- 
rived in  close,  brief,  and  usually  perspic- 
uous demonstrations.     The  few  explana- 
tions he  has  thought  necessary  are  con- 
tained in  scholia.    Thus  a  fabric  is  erect- 
ed,  astonishing   and   bewildering   in   its 
entire  effect,  yet  so  regularly  constructed 
that  the  reader  must  pause  and  return  on 
his  steps  to  discover  an  error  in  the  work- 
manship, while  he  cannot  also  but  ac- 
knowledge  the  good   faith  and  intimate 
persuasion  of  having  attained  the  truth, 
which  the  acute  and  deep-reflecting  au- 
thor everywhere  displays. 

71.  Spinosa  was  born  in  1632  ;  we  find, 
by  his  correspondence  with  Ol-  ns  general 
denburg  in  1661,  that  he  had  al-  originality, 
ready  developed  his  entire  scheme,  and  in 
that  with  De  Vries  in  1663,  the  proposi- 
tions of  the  Ethics  are  alluded  to  numeri- 
cally, as  we  now  read  them.f     It  was, 
therefore,  the  fmit  of  early  meditation,  as 
its  fearlessness,  its  general  disregard  of 
the  slow  process  of  observation,  its  un- 
hesitating dogmatism,  might  lead  us  to 
expect.     In  what  degree  he  had  availed 
himself  of  prior  writers  is  not  evident ; 
with  Descartes  and  Lord  Bacon  he  was 
familiar,  and  from  the  former  he  had  de- 
rived some  leading  tenets ;    but  he  ob- 
serves both  in  him  and  Bacon  what  he 
calls  mistakes  as  to  the  first  cause  and 
origin  of  things,  their  ignorance  of  the 
real  nature  of  the  human  mind,  and  of  the 
true  sources  of  error.|    The  pantheistic 
theory  of  Jordano  Bruno  is  not  very  re- 
mote from  that  of  Spinosa  ;  but  the  rhap- 
sodies of  the  Italian,  who  seldom  aims  at 
proof,  can  hardly  have  supplied  much  to 
the  subtle  mind  of  the  Jew  of  Amsterdam. 
Buhle  has  given  us  an  exposition  of  the 
Spinosistic  theory.^     But  several  propo- 


*  Id.,  p.  149.  Though  Pascal  here  says  that  the 
perceptions  of  the  senses  are  always  true,  we  find 
the  contrary  asserted  in  other  passages  ;  he  is  not 
uniformly  consistent  with  himself. 

t  Spinosx  Opera  Posthuma,  p.  398,  460. 

J  Cartes  et  Bacon  tam  longe  a  cognitions  prima 
causa?  et  origrinis  omnium  rerum  aberrarunt.  .  .  . 
Veram  naturam  humanae  mentis  non  cognoverunt 
.  .  .  veram  causam  erroris  nunquam  operati  sunt. 
Hist  de  la  Philosophic,  vol.  iii.,  p.  440. 


FROM  1650  TO  1700. 


319 


sitions  in  this  I  do  not  find  in  the  author, 
and  Buhle  has  at  least,  without  any  ne- 
cessity, entirely  deviated  from  the  ar- 
rangement he  found  in  the  Ethics.  This 
seems  as  unreasonable  in  a  work  so  rigor- 
ously systematic  s.s  it  would  be  in  the  el- 
ements of  Euclid  and  I  believe  the  fol- 
lowing pages  will  prove  more  faithful  to 
the  text.  But  it  is  no  easy  task  to  trans- 
••  late  and  abridge  a  writer  of  such  extraor- 
dinary conciseness  as  well  as  subtlety  ; 
nor  is  it  probable  that  my  attempt  will  be 
intelligible  to  those  who  have  not  habitua- 
ted themselves  to  metaphysical  inquiry. 

72.  The  first  book  or  part  of  the  Ethics 
view  of  his  is  entitled  Concerning  God,  and 
metaphysi-  contains  the  entire  theory  of 
ory-  Spinosa.  It  may  even  be  said 
that  this  is  found  in  a  few  of  the  first 
propositions ;  which  being  granted,  the 
rest  could  not  easily  be  denied  ;  present- 
ing, as  it  does,  little  more  than  new  as- 
pects of  the  former,  or  evident  deductions 
from  them.  Upon  eight  definitions  and 
seven  axioms  reposes  this  philosophical 
superstructure.  A  substance,  by  the  third 
definition,  is  that,  the  conception  of  which 
does  not  require  the  conception  of  any- 
thing else  as  antecedent  to  it.*  The  at- 
tribute of  a  substance  is  whatever  the 
mind  perceives  to  constitute  its  essence. f 
The  mode  of  a  substance  is  its  accident 
or  affection,  by  means  of  which  it  is  con- 
ceived. £  In  the  sixth  definition  he  says  : 
I  understand  by  the  name  of  God  a  being 
absolutely  infinite ;  that  is,  a  substance 
consisting  of  infinite  attributes,  each  of 
which  expresses  an  eternal  and  infinite 
essence.  Whatever  expresses  an  essence, 
and  involves  no  contradiction,  may  be 
predicated  of  an  absolutely  infinite  being.  $ 
The  most  important  of  the  axioms  are  the 
following  :  From  a  given  determinate 
cause  the  effect  necessarily  follows ;  but 
if  there  be  no  determinate  cause,  no  effect 
can  follow.  The  knowledge  of  an  effect  ds- 


*  Per  substantiam  intelligo  id  quod  in  se  est,  et 
per  se  concipitur;  hoc  est,  id  cujus  conceptus  non 
indiget  conceptu  alterius  rei,  a  quo  formari  debeat. 
The  last  words  are  omitted  by  Spinosa  in  a  letter 
to  De  Vries  (p.  463),  where  he  repeals  this  defini- 
tion. 

t  Per  attributnm  intelligo  id  quod  intellectus  de 
subsiantia  percipit,  tanquam  ejusdem  essentiam 
constituens. 

t  Per  modnm  intelligo  substantiae  affectiones,  sive 
id,  quod  in  alio  est,  per  quod  etiam  concipitur. 

(f  Per  Deum  intelligo  Ens  absolute  infinitum,  hoc 
pst,  substantiam  constantem  infinitis  attributis,  quo- 
rum unumquodque  seternam  et  infinitam  essentiam 
exprhnit.  Dico  absoluti  infinitum,  non  autem  in 
suo  genere  ;  quicquid  er.im  in  suo  genere  tantum 
infinitum  est,  infinita  de  eo  attributa  negare  possu- 
raus  ;  quod  autem  absoluti  infinitum  est,  ad  ejus 
essentiam  pertinet,  quicquid  cssontiain  exprimit  et 
negationem  nullam  involvit. 


pends  upon  the  knowledge  of  the  cause, 
and  includes  it. — Things  that  have  no- 
thing in  common  with  each  other  cannot 
be  understood  by  means  of  each  other; 
that  is,  the  conception  of  one  does  not  in- 
clude that  of  the  other. — A  true  idea  must 
agree  with  its  object.* 

73.  Spinosa  proceeds  to  his  demonstra- 
tions upon  the  basis  of  these  assumptions 
alone.     Two  substances,  having  different 
attributes,  have  nothing  in  common  with 
each  other  ;  and  hence  one  cannot  be  the 
cause  of  the  other,  since  one  may  be  con- 
ceived without  involving  the  conception 
of  the  other ;  but  an  effect  cannot  be  con- 
ceived without  involving  the  knowledge 
of  the  cause. f    It  seems  to  be  in  this 
fourth    axiom,   and    in   the    proposition 
grounded  upon  it,  that  the  fundamental 
fallacy   lurks.     The  relation  between  a 
cause  and  effect  is  surely  something  dif- 
ferent from  our  perfect  comprehension  of 
it,  or,  indeed,  from  our  having  any  knowl- 
edge of  it  at  all ;  much  less  can  the  con- 
trary assertion  be  deemed  axiomatic.    But 
if  we    should  concede  this  postulate,  it 
might,  perhaps,  be  very  difficult  to  resist 
the  subsequent  proofs,  so  ingeniously  and 
with  such  geometrical  rigour  are  they  ar- 
ranged. 

74.  Two  or  more  things  cannot  be  dis- 
tinguished, except  by  the  diversity  of  their 
attributes  or  by  that  of  their  modes.     Fyr 
there  is  nothing  out  of  ourselves  except 
substances  and  their  modes.     But  there 
cannot  be  two  substances  of  the  sa'ne  at- 
tribute, since  there  would  be  no  me'xna  of 
distinguishing  them  except  their  nwd<rj  or 
affections ;   and   every   substance,  being 
prior  in  order  of  time  to  its  modofi,  may 
be   considered   independently   of  them ; 
hence  two  such  substances  could  not  be 
distinguished  at  all.    One  substance,  there- 
fore, cannot  be  the  cause  of  another  ;  for 
they  cannot  have  the  same  attribute,  that 
is,  anything  in  common  with  one  another.} 
Every  substance,  therefore,  is  self-caused , 
fhat  is,  its  essence  implies  its  existence. 4 
It  is  also  necessarily  infinite,  for  it  would 
otherwise  be  terminated  by  son:  e  other  of 
the  same  nature  and  necessarily  existing  ; 
but  two  substances  cannot  have  the  same 
attribute,  and,  therefore,  cannot  both  pos- 
sess necessary  existence. ||    The  more  re- 
ality or  existence  any  being  possesses, 
the  more  attributes  are  to  be  ascribed  to 
it.     This,  he  says,  appears  by  the  defini- 
tion of  an  attribute.^    The  proof,  howev- 
er, is  surely  not  manifest,  nor'lo  we  clear- 
ly apprehend  what  he  mean-  by  degrees 


*  Axiomata.  iii.,  iv.,  v.,  and  vi. 
f  Prep.  ii.  and  iii.        t  Pr3P-  vl 
||  Pc<  p.  viii.  1T  Prop-  '  • 


Prop, 


'320 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


of  reality  or  existence.  But  of  this  the- 
orem he  was  very  proud.  I  look  upon  the 
demonstration,  he  says  in  a  letter,  as  cap- 
ital (palmariam),  that  the  more  attributes 
we  ascribe  to  any  being,  the  more  we  are 
compelled  to  acknowledge  its  existence  ; 
that  is,  the  more  we  conceive  it  as  true, 
and  not  a  mere  chimera.*  And  from  this 
he  derived  the  real  existence  of  God, 
though  the  former  proof  seems  collateral 
to  it.  God,  or  a  substance  consisting  of 
infinite  attributes,  each  expressing  an 
eternal  and  infinite  power,  necessarily  ex- 
ists. |  For  such  an  essence  involves  ex- 
istence. And,  besides  this,  if  anything 
do<*s  not  exist,  a  cause  must  be  given  for 
its  non-existence,  since  this  requires  one 
as  much  as  existence  itself.J  The  cause 
may  be  either  in  the  nature  of  the  thing, 
as,  e.  gr.,  a  square  circle  cannot  exist  by 
the  circle's  nature,  or  in  something  ex- 
trinsic. But  neither  of  these  can  prevent 
the  existence  of  God.  The  later  proposi- 
tions in  Spinosa  are  chiefly  obvious  corol- 
laries from  the  definitions  and  a  few  of  the 
first  propositions  which  contain  the  whole 
theory,  which  he  proceeds  to  expand. 

75.  There  can  be  no  substance  but  God. 
Whatever  is,  is  in  God,  and  nothing  can 
be  conceived  without  God.§     For  he  is 
the  sole  substance,  and  modes  cannot  be 
conceived  without  a  substance ;  but,  be- 
sides substance  and  mode,  nothing  exists. 
God  is  not  corporeal,  but  body  is  a  mode 
of  God,  and  therefore  uncreated.     God  is 
the  permanent,  but  not  the  transient  cause 
of  all  things. ||     He  is  the  efficient  cause 
of  their  essence   as  well  as  their  exist- 
ence, since  otherwise  their  essence  might 
be   conceived   without   God,   which   has 
been  shown  to  be  absurd.     Thus  particu- 
lar things  are  but  the  affections  of  God's 
attributes,  or  modes  in  which  they  are  de- 
terminately  expressed. ^[ 

76.  This  pantheistic  scheme  is  the  fruit- 
ful mother  of  many  paradoxes,  upon  which 
Spincsa  proceeds  to  dwell.     There  is  no 
contingency,  but  everything  is  determined 
by  the   necessity  of  the   Divine  nature, 
both  as  to   its  existence  and  operation; 
nor  could  anything  be  produced  by  God 
otherwise  than  as  it  is.**    His  power  is 
the   same  as   his  essence ;  for  he  is  the 
necessary  cause  both  of  himself  and  of 
all  things,  and  it  is  as  impossible  for  us  to 


*  P.  403.  This  is  in  the  letter  to  De  Vries,  above 
quoted.  t  Prop.  xi. 

J  If  twenty  men  exist,  neither  more  nor  less,  an 
extrinsic  reason  must  be  given  for  this  precise  num- 
ber, since  the  definition  of  a  man  does  not  involve 
it._pr0p.  viii.,  Schol.  ii.  $  Prop.  xiv. 

||  Deus  est  omnium  rerum  causa  immanens,  sed 
non  transiens.— Prop,  xviii. 

1  Prop.  xxv.  and  Coroll.     **  Prop,  xxix.-xxxiii. 


conceive  him  not  to  act  as  not  to  exist.* 
God,  considered  in  the  attributes  of  his  in- 
finite  substance,  is  the  same  as  nature, 
that  is,  nalura  naturans ;  but  nature,  in  an- 
other sense,  or  natura  naturata,  expresses* 
but  the  modes  under  which  the  Divine  at 
tributes  appear.f  And  intelligence,  con 
sidered  in  act,  even  though  infinite,  shouk' 
be  referred  to  natura  naturata  ;  for  intelli 
gence,  in  this  sense,  is  but  a  mode  of 
thinking,  which  can  only  be  conceived  by 
means  of  our  conception  of  thinking  in 
the  abstract,  that  is,  by  an  attribute  of 
God.J  The  faculty  of  thinking,  as  distin- 
guished from  the  act,  as  also  those  of  de- 
siring, loving,  and  the  rest,  Spinosa  expli- 
citly denies  to  exist  at  all. 

77.  In  an  appendix  to  the  first  chapter, 
De  Deo,  Spinosa  controverts  what  he  calls 
the  prejudice  about  final  causes.    Menave 
born  ignorant  of  causes,  but  merely  con- 
scious of  their  own  appetites,  by  which 
they  desire  their  own  good.     Hence  they 
only  care  for  the  final  cause  of  their  own 
actions  or  those  of  others,  and  inquire  no 
farther  when  they   are    satisfied    about 
these.     And  finding  many  things  in  them- 
selves and  in  nature,  serving  as  means  to 
a  certain  good,  which  things  they  know 
not  to  be  provided  by  themselves,  they 
have  believed  that  some  one  has  provided 
them,  arguing  from   the   analogy  of  the 
means   they,  in   other  instances,  them- 
selves employ.     Hence  they  have  ima- 
gined gods,  and  these  gods  they  suppose 
to  consult  the  good  of  men  in  order  to  be 
worshipped  by  them,  and  have   devised 
every  mode  of  superstitious  devotion  to 
ensure  the  favour  of  these  divinities.    And 
finding,  in  the  midst  of  so  many  beneficial 
things  in  nature,  not  a  few  of  an  opposite 
effect,  they  have  ascribed  them  to  the  an- 
ger of  the  gods  on  account  of  the  neglect 
of  men  to  worship  them  ;  nor  has  experi- 
ence of  calamities,  falling  alike   on   the 
pious  and  impious,  cured  them  of  this  be- 
lief, choosing  rather  to  acknowledge  their 
ignorance  of  the  reason  why  good  and  evil 
are  thus  distributed  than  to  give  up  their 
theory.      Spinosa  thinks  the   hypothesis 
of  final  causes  refuted  by  his  proposition 
that  all  things  happen  by  eternal  necessi- 
ty.    Moreover,  if  God  were  to  act  for  an 
end,  he  must  desire  something  which  he 
wants  ;  for  it  is  acknowledged  by  theolo- 
gians that  he  acts  for  his  own  sake,  and 
not  for  the  sake  of  things  created. 

78.  Men,  having  satisfied   themselves 
that  all  things  were   created  for  them, 


*  Prop,  xxxix.,  and  part  ii.,  Prop,  iii.,  Schol. 
t  Schol.  in  Prop.  xxix. 

j  Prop.  xxxi.     The  atheism  of  Spinosa  is  mani- 
fest from  this  single  proposition. 


FROM  i650  TO  1700. 


have  invented  names  to  distinguish  that 
as  good  which  tends  to  their  benefit;  and, 
believing  themselves  free,  have  gotten  the 
notions  of  right  and  wrong,  praise  and 
dispraise.  And,  when  they  ean  easily 
apprehend  and  recollect  the  relations  of 
things,  they  call  them  well-ordered  ;  if  not, 
ill-ordered;  and  then  say  that  God  crea- 
ted all  things  in  order,  as  if  order  were 
anything  except  in  regard  to  our  imagina- 
tion of  it ;  and  thus  they  ascribe  imagina- 
tion to  God  himself,  unless  they  mean  that 
he  created  things  for  the  sake  of  imagin- 
ing them. 

79.  It  has  been  sometimes  doubted 
whether  the  Spinosistic  philosophy  ex- 
cludes altogether  an  infinite  intelligence. 
That  it  rejected  a  moral  providence  or 
creative  mind  is  manifest  in  every  propo- 
sition. His  Deity  could,  at  most,  be  but 
a  cold,  passive  intelligence,  lost  to  our 
understandings  and  feelings  in  its  meta- 
physical infinity.  It  was  not,  however,  in 
fact,  so  much  as  this.  It  is  true  that  in  a 
few  passages  we  find  what  seems  at  first 
a  dim  recognition  of  the  fundamental  prin- 
ciple of  theism.  In  one  of  his  letters  to 
Oldenburg  he  asserts  an  infinite  power 
of  thinking,  which,  considered  in  its  infin- 
ity, embraces  all  nature  as  its  object,  and 
of  which  the  thoughts  proceed  according 
to  the  order  of  nature,  being  its  correla- 
tive ideas.*  But  afterward  he  rejected 
the  term,  power  of  thinking,  altogether. 
The  first  proposition  of  the  second  part  of 
the  Ethics,  or  that  entitled  On  the  Mind, 
runs  thus :  Thought  is  an  attribute  of 
God,  or,  God  is  a  thinking  being.  Yet  | 
this,  when  we  look  at  the  demonstration, 
vanishes  in  an  abstraction  destructive  of 
personality.!  And,  in  fact,  we  cannot,  re- 
flect at  all  on  the  propositions  already  hud 
down  by  Spinosa  without  perceiving  that 
they  annihilate  every  possible  hyp<.>: 
in  which  the  being  of  a  God  can  be  intelli- 
gibly stated. 

*  Statuo  dari  innatura  potentiam  inlinitam  eogi- 
landi  quae  quatenus  infmita  in  se  continet  tot.am 
naturain  objective,  et  cujus  cogitationes  piv 
eodem  modo  ac  natura,  ejus  nimirum  edictuin,  p. 
411.     In  another  place  he  says,  perhaps  al 
expense  of  his  usual  candour.  Agnosco  interim,  id 
quod  summam  mihi  prxbet  satisfactionem  ft 
tranquillitatem,  cuncta  potentia  Entis  sunn- 
fecti  et  ejus  immutabili  ita  lien  decreto,  p.  498. 
What  follows  is  in  the  same  strain.     Hut  Spinosn 
had  wrought  himself  up,  like  Bruno,  to  a  mystic, ii 
personification  of  his  infinite  unity. 

t  Singulares  cogitationes,  sive  hsec  et  ilia  cogita- 
tio,  modi  surit.  qui  Uei  naturam  certo  et  ilcn  nnni  i- 
to  modo  expriuiiint.  Competit  ergo  Dei  aitnbu- 
tnm,  cujus  conceptum  singulares  omiips  couita- 
tiones  irivolvunt.per  quod  etiam  concipiuntur.  Kst 
igitur  cogitatio  maun  ex  infinitis  Dei  attributis  quod 
Dei  seternain  et  infiuitam  essentiam  etprimit,  sive 
Deus  est  res  cogitaus. 

VOL.  II.— S  s 


80.  The  second  book  of  the  Ethics  be- 
gins, like  the  first,  with  definitions  and 
axioms.  Body  he  defines  to  be  a  certain 
and  determinate  mode  expressing  the  es- 
sence of  God,  considered  as  extended. 
The  essence  of  anything  he  defines  to  be 
that  according  to  the  affirmation  or  nega- 
tion of  which  the  thing  exists,  or  other- 
wise. An  idea  is  a  conception  which  the 
mind  forms  as  a  thinking  being.  And  he 
prefers  to  say  conception  than  perception, 
because  tin:  latter  seems  to  imply  the 
presence  of  an  object.  In  the  third  axiom 
he  says  :  .Modes  of  thinking,  such  as  love, 
desire,  or  whatever  name  we  may  give  to 
i he.  affections  of  the  mind,  cannot  exist 
without  an  idea  of  their  object,  but  an 
idea  miry  exist  with  no  other  mode  of 
thinking.*  And  in  the  fifth:  ^Y<'  per- 
ceive no  singular  things  besides  bodies 
and  modes  of  thinking;  thus  distinguish- 
ing, like  Locke,  between  ideas  of  sensa- 
tion and  of  reflection. 

81.  Extension,  by  the  second  proposi- 
tion, is  an  attribute  of  God  as  well  as 
thought.     As  it  follows,  from  the  infinite 
extension  of  God,  that  all  bodies  are  por- 
tions of  his  substance,  inasmuch  as  they 
cannot  be  conceived  without  it,  so  all  par- 
ticular acts  of  intelligence  are  portions  of 
God's   infinite    intelligence,  and   thus   all 
things  are  in  him.      Man  is  not  a  sub- 
stance, but  something  vv'iich  is  in  God, 
and  cannot   be  conceived  without   him ; 
that  is,  an  affection  or  mode  of  the  divine 
substance  expressing  its  nature  in  a  deter- 
minate manner.!    The  human  mind  is  not 
a  substance,  but  an  idea  constitutes  its 
actual  being,  and  it  must  be  the  idea  of  an 
existing  thing. J     In  this  he  plainly  loses 
sight  of  the  percipient  in  the  perception; 
but  it  was  the  inevitable  result  of  the  fun- 
damental sophisms  of  Spinosa  to  annihi- 
late personal  consciousness.     The  human 
mind,  he  afterward  asserts,  is  part  of  the 
infinite  intellect  of  God;    and  when  we 
say,  the  mind  perceives  this  or  that,  it  is 
oirly  that  God,  not  as  infinite,  but  so  far 
as  he  constitutes  the  essence  of  the  hu- 
man mind,  has  such  or  such  idea;>.$ 

82.  The  object  of  the   human  mind  is 
body  actually  existing.||     He  proceeds  to 


*  Modi  cogitandi,  ut  ntuor,  cupiditas,  vrl  quonm- 
que  nomine  a fleet  us  animi  insisuiuniiir,  non  dantur 
nisi  in  eodem  individuo  drtnr  iden  r<  i  amata  . 
eratae,  &c.    At  idea  dari  potest.quamvis  nullns  alius 
detur  cogUandi  modus.  M'r<>;t  x. 

}  Quod  actuate  nvntis  bun  • 
uihil  aliud  est  quarn  id;'  i  n  neularis  actu 

ntis.     This  is  ;HI  ::Mtirip;tti<>N  "f  what  we  find 
in  Hume's  Trcatix-  on   Human  Nature,  the  nega- 
tion of  a  substance,  or  Kgo,  to  which  paradox  no 
.it  a  professed  metaphysician. 

$  Prop,  xi.,  corolL  II  Prop.  xiii. 


322 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


explain  the  connexion  of  the  human,  body 
with  the  mind,  and  the  association  of  ideas. 
But  in  all  this,  advancing  always  syntheti- 
cally and  by  demonstration,  he  becomes 
frequently  obscure,  if  not  sophistical.  The 
idea  of  the  human  mind  is  in  God,  and  is 
united  to  the  mind  itself  in  the  same  man- 
ner as  the  latter  is  to  the  body.*  The  ob- 
scurity and  subtlety  of  this  proposition 
are  not  relieved  by  the  demonstration  ;  but 
in  some  of  these  passages  we  may  observe 
a  singular  approximation  to  the  theory  of 
Malebranche.  Both,  though  with  very  dif- 
ferent tenets  on  the  highest  subjects,  had 
been  trained  in  the  same  school ;  and  if 
Spinosa  had  brought  himself  to  acknowl- 
edge the  personal  distinctness  of  the  Su- 
preme Being  from  his  intelligent  cfeation, 
he  might  have  passed  for  one  of  those  mys- 
tical theosophists  who  were  not  averse  to 
an  objective  pantheism. 

83.  The  mind  does  not  know  itself,  ex- 
cept so  far  as  it  receives  ideas  of  the  af- 
fections of  the  body.f    But  these  ideas  of 
sensation  do  not  give  an  adequate  knowl- 
edge of  an  external  body,  nor  of  the  human 
body  itself.  J    The  mind,  therefore,  has  but 
an  inadequate  and  confused  knowledge  of 
anything,  so  long  as  it  judges  only  by  for- 
tuitous perceptions  ;  but  may  attain  one 
clear  and  distinct  by  internal  reflection  and 
comparison. §     No  positive   idea  can  be 
called  false  ;  for  there  can  be  no  such  idea 
without  God,  and  all  ideas  in  God  are  true, 
that  is,  correspond  with  their  object.  j|    Fal- 
sity, therefore,  consists  in  that  privation 
of  truth    which   arises   from   inadequate 
ideas.     An  adequate  idea  he  has  defined 
to  be  one  which  contains  no  incompatibil- 
ity, without  regard  to  the  reality  of  its 
supposed  correlative  object. 

84.  All  bodies  agree  in  some  things,  or 
have  something  in  common  :  of  these,  all 
men  have  adequate  ideas  ;^[  and  this  is  the 
origin  of  what  are  called  common  notions, 
which  all  men  possess  ;  as,  extension,  du- 
ration, number.     But  to  explain  the  nature 
of  universals,  Spinosa  observes,  that  the 
human  body  can  only  form,  at  the  same 
time,  a  certain  number  of  distinct  images; 
if  this  number  be  exceeded,  they  become 
confused  ;  and  as  the  mind  perceives  dis- 
tinctly just  so   many  images  as  can  be 
formed  in  the  body,  when  these  are  con- 
fused, the  mind  will  also  perceive  them 
confusedly,  and  will  comprehend  them  un- 


*  Mentis  humans  datur  etiam  in  Deo  idea,  sive 
rognitio,  quae  in  Deo  eodem  modo  sequitur,  et  ad 
Deum  eodem  modo  refertur,  ac  idea  sive  cognitio 
corporis  humani.— Prop.  xx.  Haec  mentis  idea  eo- 
dem modo  unita  est  menti,  ac  ipsa  mens  unita  est 
corpori.  A  Prop,  xxiii. 

J  Prop.  xxv.  <J  Schol.,  Prop.  xxix. 

U  Prop,  xxxii ,  xxxiii.,  xxxv.          f  Prop.  viii. 


der  one  attribute,  as  Man,  Horse.  Dog  , 
the  mind  perceiving  a  number  of  such  im- 
ages, but  not  their  differences  of  stature 
colours,  and  the  like.  And  these  notion? 
will  not  be  alike  in  all  minds,  varying  ac- 
cording to  the  frequency  with  which  the 
parts  of  the  complex  image  have  occurred 
Thus  those  who  have  contemplated  mosl 
frequently  the  erect  figure  of  man,  wih 
think  of  him  as  a  perpendicular  animal, 
others  as  two-legged,  others  as  imfeath- 
ered,  others  as  rational.  Hence  so  many 
disputes  among  philosophers  who  have 
tried  to  explain  natural  things  by  mere 
images.* 

85.  Thus  we  form  universal  ideas  ;  first, 
by  singulars,  represented  by  the  senses 
confusedly,  imperfectly,  and   disorderly ; 
secondly,  by  signs,  that  is,  by  associating 
the  remembrance  of  things  with  words ; 
both  of  which  he  calls  imagination,  or  pri- 
mi  generis  cognitio  ;  thirdly,  by  what  he 
calls  reason,  or  secundi  generis  cognitio  ; 
and,  fourthly,  by  intuitive  knowledge,  or 
tertii  generis  cognitio. f    Knowledge  of  the 
first  kind  is  the  only  source  of  error,  the 
second  and  third  being  necessarily  true.J 
These  alone  enable  us  to  distinguish  truth 
from    falsehood.       Reason    contemplates 
things,  not  as  contingent,  but  necessary  ; 
and  whoever  has  a  true  idea,  knows  cer- 
tainly that  his  idea  is  true.     Every  idea  of 
a  singular  existing  thing  involves  the  eter- 
nal and  infinite  being  of  God.    For  nothing 
can  be  conceived  without  God,  and  the 
ideas  of  all  things,  having  God  for  their 
cause,  considered  under  the  attribute  of 
which  they  are  modes,  must  involve  the 
conception  of  the  attribute,  that  is,  the 
being  of  God.$ 

86.  It  is  highly  necessary  to  distinguish 
images,  ideas,  and  words,  which  many  con- 
found.    Those  who  think  ideas  consist  in 
images  which  they  perceive,  fancy  that 
ideas  of  which  we  can  form  no  image  are 
but  arbitrary  figments.    They  look  at  ideas 
as  pictures  on  a  tablet,  and  hence  do  not 
understand  that  an  idea,  as  such,  involves 
an  affirmation  or  negation.     And  those 
who   confound  words   with  ideas    fancy 
they  can  will  something  contrary  to  what 
they  perceive,  because  they  can  affirm  or 
deny  it  in  words.     But  these  prejudices 
will  be  laid  aside  by  him  who  reflects  that 
thought  does  not  involve  the  conception 
of  extension  ;  and,  therefore,  that  an  idea, 
being  a  mode  of  thought,  neither  consists 
in  images  nor  in  words,  the  essence  of 
which  consists  in  corporeal  motions,  not 
involving  the  conception  of  thought. jj 

*  Schol.,  Prop.  xl.  t  Schol.  ii..  Prop.  xJ. 

J  Prop,  xli ,  xlii .  et  sequent.          §  Prop.  xlv. 
li  Schol ,  Prop.  xlix. 


FROM  1650  TO  1700. 


87.  The  human  mind  has  an  adequate 
knowledge  of  the  eternal  and  infinite  being 
of  God.    But  men  cannot  imagine  God  as 
they  can  bodies,  and  hence  have  not  that 
clear  perception  of  his  being  which  they 
have  of  that  of  bodies,  and  have  also  per- 
plexed themselves  by  associating  the  word 
God  with  sensible  images,  which  it  is  hard 
to  avoid.     This  is  the  chief  source  of  all 
error,  that   men  do  not  apply  names  to 
things  rightly.     For  they  do   not  err  in 
their  own  minds,  but  in  this  application ; 
as  men  who  cast  up  wrong  see  different 
numbers  in  their  minds  from  those  in  the 
true  result.* 

88.  The  mind  has  no  free  will,  but  is 
determined  by  a  cause,  which  itself  is  de- 
termined by  some  other,  and  so  for  ever. 
For  the  mind  is  but  a.  mode  of  thinking, 
and,  therefore,  cannot  be  the  free  cause  of 
its  own  actions.     Nor  has  it  any  absolute 
faculty  of  loving,  desiring,  understanding; 
these  being  only  metaphysical   abstrac- 
tions.!    Will  and  understanding  are  one 
and  the  same  thing;  and  volitions  we  only 
affirmations  or  negations,  each  of  which 
belongs  to  the  essence  of  the  idea  affirmed 
or  denied. £    In  this  there  seems  to  be  not 
only  an  extraordinary  deviation  from  com- 
mon  language,   but    an    absence   of  any 
meaning  which,  to   my  apprehension  at 
least,  is   capable  of  being  given  to  his 
words.     Yet  we  have  seen  something  of 
the  same  kind  said  by  Malebranche ;  and 
it,  will  also  be  found  in  a  recently  pub- 
lished work  of  Cudworth,^  a  writer  cer- 
tainly uninfluenced  by  either  of  these,  so 
that  it  may  be  suspected  of  having  some 
older  authority. 

89.  In  the  third  part  of  this  treatise, 

Spinosa  comes  to  the  considera- 
fheor°y  of  tio n  of  the  passions.  Most  who 
action  and  have  written  on  moral  subjects, 
passion,  y^  Sflys,  have  rather  treated  man 
as  something  out  of  nature,  or  as  a  kind 
of  imperium  in  imperio,  than  as  part  of  the 
general  order.  They  have  conceived  him 
to  enjoy  a  power  of  disturbing  that  order 
by  his  own  determination,  and  ascribed  his 
weakness  and  inconstancy,  not  to  the  ne- 
cessary laws  of  the  system,  but  to  some 
strange  defect  in  himself,  which  they 
cease  not  to  lament,  deride,  or  execrate. 
But  the  acts  of  mankind,  and  the  passions 
"rom  which  they  proceed,  are  in  reality 
out  links  in  the  series,  and  proceed  in  har- 

*  Prop.  xlvn.  Atque  hinc  pleraeque  oriuntur  con- 
troversiae,  nempe,  quia  homines  mentem  suam  non 
recte  explicant,  vel  quia  alterius  mentem  male  in- 
terpretantur. 

t  Prop.  xl"i:i.  i  Prop.  xhx. 

§  See  Cudwc-th's  Treatise  on  Free-will  (1838). 
p.  20,  where  the  will  and  understanding  are  pur- 
posely, and,  I  thhA,  *ery  encr.eeusly  confounded. 


mony  with  the  common  laws  of  universal 
nature. 

90.  We  are  said  to  act  when  anything 
takes  place  within  us  or  without  iis,  for 
which  we  are  an  adequate  cause ;  that  is, 
when  it  may  be  explained  by  means  of 
our  own  nature  alone.     We  are  said  to 
be  acted  upon  when  anything  takes  place 
within   us    which  cannot  wholly  be  ex- 
plained by  our  own  nature.      The  affec- 
tions of  the  body  which  increase  or  di- 
minish its  power  of  action,  and  the  ideas 
of  those  affections,  he  denominates  pas- 
sions (affectus).      Neither   the  body  can 
determine  the  mind  to  thinking,  nor  can 
the  mind  determine  the  body  to  motion  or 
rest.    For  all  that  takes  place  in  body  must 
be  caused  by  God,  considered  under  his 
attribute  of  extension,  and  all  that  takes 
place  in  mind  must  be  caused  by  God  un- 
der his  attribute  of  thinking.     The  mind 
and  body  are  but  one  thing,  considered 
under  different  attributes;  the  order  of  ac- 
tion and  passion  in   the  body  being  the, 
same  in  nature  with  that  of  action  and 
passion  in  the  mind.     But  men,  though 
ignorant  how  far  the  natural  powers  of  the 
body  reach,  ascribe  its  operations  to  the 
determination  of  the  mind,  veiling  their 
ignorance  in  specious  words.     For  if  they 
allege  that  the  body  cannot  act  without 
the  mind,  it   may  be  answered  that  tin; 
mind  cannot  think  till  it  is  impelled  by  the 
body,  nor  are   the  volitions  of  the  mind 
any  thing  else  than  its  appetites,  which  are 
modified  by  the  body. 

91.  All  things  endeavour  to  continue  in 
their  actual  being ;  this  endeavour  being 
nothing   else    than   their  essence,  which 
causes  them  to  be,  until   some   exterior 
cause  destroys  their  being.     The  mind  is 
conscious  of  its  own  endeavour  to  con- 
tinue as  it  is,  which  is,  in  other  words,  the 
appetite  that  seeks  self-preservation ;  what 
the  mind  is  thus  conscious  of  seeking,  it 
judges  to  be   good,   and   not   inversely. 
Many   things    increase   or   diminish   the 
power  of  action  in  the  body,  and  all  such 
things  have  a  corresponding  effect  on  the 
power  of  thinking  in  the  mind.     Thus  it 
undergoes    many    changes,    and    passes 
through  different  stages  of  more  or  less 
perfect  power   of  thinking.     Joy  is  the 
name  of  a  passion,  in  which  the  mind 
passes  to  a  greater  perfection  or  power  of 
thinking ;  grief,  one  in  which  it  passes  to 
a  less.     Spinosa,  in  the  rest  of  this  book, 
deduces  all  the  passions  from  these  two 
and  from  desire ;  but  as  the  development 
of  his  theory  is  rather  long,  and  we  have 
already  seen  that  its  basis  is  not  quite  in- 

|  teliigible,  it  will  be  unnecessary  to  dwell 
I  longer  upon  the  subject.     His  analysis  of 


324 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


the  passions  may  be  compared  with  that 
of  Hobbes. 

92.  Such  is  the  metaphysical  theory  of 
character  of  Spinosa,  in  as  concise  a  form  as 
ppinosism.     I  found  myself  able  to  derive  it 
from  his  Ethics.   It  is  a  remarkable  proof, 
and  his  moral  system  will  furnish  another, 
how  an  undeviating  adherence   to  strict 
reasoning  may  lead  a  man  of  great  acute- 
ness  and  sincerity  from  the  paths  of  truth. 
Spiriosa  was  truly,  what  Voltaire  has  with 
rather  less  justice  called  Clarke,  a  reason- 
ing machine.     A  few  leading  theorems, 
too  hastily  taken  up  as  axiomatic,  were 
sufficient  to  make  him  sacrifice,  with  no 
compromise  of  hesitation,  not  only  every 
principle  of  religion  and  moral  right,  but 
the  clear,  intuitive   notions   of  common 
sense.     If  there  are  two  axioms  more  in- 
disputable than  any  others,  they  are  that 
ourselves  exist,  and  that  our  existence  is 
exclusive  of  any  other  being.     Yet  both 
these  are  lost  in  the  pantheism  of  Spinosa, 
as  they  had  always  been  in  that  delusive 
revery  of  the  imagination.      In  asserting 
that  the  being  of  the  human  mind  consists 
in  the  idea  of  an  existing  thing  presented 
to  it,  this  subtle  metaphysician  fell  into 
the  error  of  the  school  which  he  most  dis- 
dained, as  deriving  all  knowledge  from 
perception,  that  of  the  Aristotelians.    And, 
extending  this  confusion  of  consciousness 
with  perception  to  the  infinite  substance, 
or  substratum  of  particular  ideas,  he  was 
led  to  deny  it  the  self,  or  conscious  per- 
sonality, without  which  the  name  of  Deity 
can  only  be  given  in  a  sense  deceptive  of 
the  careless  reader,  and  inconsistent  with 
the  use  of  language.     It  was  an  equally 
legitimate   consequence   of   his    original 
sophism  to  deny  all  moral  agency,  in  the 
sense  usually  received,  to  the  human  mind, 
and  even,  as  we  have  seen,  to  confound 
action  and  passion  themselves,  in  all  but 
name,  as  mere  phenomena  in  the  eternal 
sequence  of  things. 

93.  It  was  one  great  error  of  Spinosa 
to  entertain  too  arrogant  a  notion  of  the 
human  faculties,  in  which,  by  dint  of  his 
own  subtle  demonstrations,  he  pretended 
to  show  a  capacity  of  adequately  compre- 
hending the  nature  of  what  he  denomi- 
nated God.     And  this  was  accompanied 
by  a  rigid  dogmatism,  no  one  proposition 
being  stated  with  hesitation,  by  a  disre- 
gard of  experience,  at  least  as  the  basis 
of  reasoning,  and  by  a  uniform  preference 
of  the  synthetic  method.     Most  of  those, 
he  says,  who  have  turned  their  minds  to 
those  subjects  have  fallen  into  error,  be- 
cause they  have  not  begun  with  the  con- 
templation of  the  Divine  nature,  which, 
bo  h  in  itself  and  in  order  of  knowledge,  is 


first,  but  Avith  sensible  things,  which  ought 
to  have  been  last.  Hence  he  seems  to 
have  reckoned  Bacon,  and  even  Descartes,- 
mistaken  in  their  methods. 

91.  All  pantheism  must  have  originated 
in  overstraining  the  infinity  of  the  Divine 
attributes  till  the  moral  part  of  religion 
was  annihilated  in  its  metaphysics.  It 
was  the  corruption,  or,  rather,  if  we  may 
venture  the  phrase,  the  suicide  of  theism; 
nor  could  this  strange  theory  have  arisen, 
except  where  we  know  it  did  arise,  among 
those  who  had  elevated  their  conceptions 
above  the  vulgar  polytheism  that  sur- 
rounded them  to  a  sense  of  the  unity  of 
the  Divine  nature. 

95.  Spinosa  does  not  essentially  differ 
from  the  pantheists  of  old.    He  conceived, 
as  they  had  done,  that  the  infinity  of  God 
required  the  exclusion  of  all  other  sub- 
stance ;  that  he  was  infinite  ab  omni  parte, 
and  riot  only  in  certain  senses.    And  prob- 
ably the  loose  and  hyperbolical  tenets  of 
the  schoolmen,  derived  from  ancient  phi- 
losophy, ascribing,  as  a  matter  of  course, 
a  metaphysical  infinity  to  all  the  Divine 
attributes,  might  appear  to  sanction  those 
primary  positions,  from  which  Spinosa, 
unfettered  by  religion,  even  in  outward 
profession,  went  on  "  sounding  his  dim 
and  perilous  track"  to  the  paradoxes  that 
have  thrown  discredit  on  his  name.     He 
had  certainly  built  much  on  the  notion 
that  the  essence  or  definition  of  the  Deity 
involved   his   actuality   or  existence,   to 
which  Descartes  had  given  vogue. 

96.  Notwithstanding  the  leading  errors 
of  this  philosopher,  his  clear  and  acute  un- 
derstanding perceived  many  things  which 
baffle    ordinary    minds.     Thus    he    well 
saw  and  well  stated  the  immateriality  of 
thought.    Oldenburg,  in  one  of  his  letters, 
had  demurred  to  this,  and  reminded  Spi- 
nosa that  it  was  still  controverted  whether 
thought   might  not  be  a  bodily  motion. 
"  Be  it  so,"  replied  the  other,  "  though  I 
am  far  from   admitting  it;   but  at  least 
you  must  allow  that  extension,  so  far  as 
extension,  is  not  the  same  as  thought."* 
It  is  from  inattention  to  this  simple  truth 
that  all  materialism,  as  it  has  been  called, 
lias  sprung.     Its  advocates  confound  the 
union  between  thinking  and  extension  or 
matter  (be  it,  if  they  will,  an  indissoluble 
one)  with  the  identity  of  the  two.  which 
is   absurd   and   inconceivable.     (i  Body," 
says  Spinosa  in  one  of  his  definitions,  "  is 
not  terminated  by  thinking,  nor  thinking 


*  At  ais,  forte  cogitatio  est  actus  corporeus.  Sit, 
quamvis  nullus  concedam  ;  sed  hoc  unum  non  ne 
gabis,  extensionem,  quoad  extensioncm,  non  esse 
cogitationem. — Epist.  iv. 


FROM  1650  TO  1700. 


325 


oy  body.1'*  This  also  does  not  ill  express 
the  fundamental  difference  of  matter  and 
mind ;  there  is  an  incommensurability 
about  them,  which  prevents  one  from 
bounding  the  other,  because  they  can 
never  be  placed  in  juxtaposition. 

97.  England,  about  the  tera  of  the  Res- 
Gianvii's  toration,  began  to  make  a  strug- 
Si-epsis  gle  against  the  metaphysical 
Scienufica.  creed  of  the  Aristotelians,  as 
well  as  against  their  natural  philosophy. 
A  remarkable  work,  but  one  so  scarce  as 
to  be  hardly  known  at  all,  except  by  name, 
was  published  by  Glanvil  in  1G61,  with 
the  title,  The  Vanity  of  Dogmatizing.  A 
second  edition,  in  1665,  considerably  al- 
tered, is  entitled  Scepsis  Scientifica.f 
This  edition  has  a  dedication  to  the  Royal 
Society,  which  comes  in  place  of  a  fanci- 
ful preface,  wherein  he  had  expatiated  on 
the  bodily  and  mental  perfections  of  his 
protoplast,  the  father  of  mankind. J  But 
in  proportion  to  the  extravagant  language 
he  employs  to  extol  Adam  before  his 
lapse,  is  the  depreciation  of  his  unfortu- 
nate posterity,  not,  as  common  among 
theologians,  with  respect  to  their  moral 
nature,  but  to  their  reasoning  faculties. 
The  scheme  of  Glanvil's  book  is  to  dis- 
play the  ignorance  of  man,  and  especially 
to  censure  the  Peripatetic  philosophy  of 
the  schools.  It  is,  he  says,  captious  and 
verbal,  and  yet  does  not  adhere  itself  to 
any  constant  sense  of  words,  but  huddles 
together  insignificant  terms  and  unintelli- 
gible definitions  ;  it  deals  with  controver- 
sies, and  seeks  for  no  new  discovery  or 
physical  truth.  Nothing,  he  says,  can  be 
demonstrated  but  when  the  contrary  is 
impossible,  and  of  this  there  are  not  many 
instances.  He  launches  into  a  strain  of 

*  Corpus  dicitur  finitum,  quia  aliud  semper  majus 
concipimus  Sic  cogitatio  alia  cogitatione  termina- 
tur.  At  corpus  non  terminatur  cogitatione,  nee 
cogitatio  corpore. 

t  This  hook,  I  believe,  especially  in  the  second 
edition,  is  exceedingly  scarce.  The  editors,  how- 
ever, of  the  Biographia  Britannica,  art.  Glanvil.  had 
seen  it,  and  also  Dugald  Stewart.  The  first  edition, 
or  Vanity  of  Dogmatizing,  is  in  the  Bodleian  Cata- 
logue, and  both  are  in  the  British  Museum. 

J  Thus,  among  other  extravagances  worthy  of 
the  Talmud,  he  says,  "  Adam  needed  no  spectacles. 
The  acuteness  of  his  natural  optics  (if  conjecture 
may  have  credit)  showed  him  much  of  the  celestial 
magnificence  and  bravery  without  a  Galileo's  tube  ; 
and  it  is  most  probable  that  his  naked  eyes  could 
reach  near  as  much  of  this  upper  world  as  we  with 
all  the  advantages  of  art.  It  may  be  it  was  as  ab- 
surd, even  in  the  judgment  of  his  senses,  that  the 
sun  and  stars  should  be  so  very  much  less  than  this 
globe,  as  the  contrary  seems  in  ours;  and  it  is  not 
unlikely  that  he  had  as  clear  a  perception  of  the 
earth's  motion  as  we  have  of  its  quiescence,"  p.  5, 
edit.  1661.  In  the  second  edition,  he  still  adheres 
to  the  hypothesis  of  intellectual  degeneracy,  but 
states  it  with  less  of  rhapsody. 


what  may  be  called  skepticism,  but  an- 
swered his  purpose  in  combating  the  dog- 
matic spirit  still  uncouquered  in  our  aca- 
demical schools.  Glanvil  had  studied  the 
new  philosophy,  and  speaks  with  ardent 
eulogy  of  "  that  miracle  of  men,  the  illus- 
trious Descartes."  Many,  if  not  most,  of 
his  own  speculations  are  tinged  with  a 
Cartesian  colouring,  lie  was,  however, 
far  more  skeptical  than  Descartes,  or  even 
than  Malebrancbe.  Some  passages  from 
so  rare  and  so  acute  a  work  may  deserve 
to  be  chosen,  both  for  their  own  sakes, 
and  in  order  to  display  the  revolution 
which  was  at  work  in  speculative  philos- 
ophy. 

98.  "  In  the  unions  which  we  understand, 
the  extremes  are  reconciled  by  interce- 
ding participations  of  natures  which  have 
somewhat  of  either.  But  body  and  spirit 
stand  at  such  a  distance  in  their  essential 
compositions,  that  to  suppose  an  uniter  of 
a  middle  construction  that  should  partake 
of  some  of  the  qualities  of  both,  is  unwar- 
ranted by  any  of  our  faculties,  yea,  most 
absonous  to  our  reasons ;  since  there  is 
not  any  the  least  affinity  between  length, 
breadth,  and  thickness,  and  apprehension, 
judgment,  and  discourse  ;  the  former  of 
which  are  the  most  immediate  results,  if 
not  essentials  of  matter,  the  latter  of  spir- 
it."* 

99.  "  How  is  it,  and  by  what  art  does  it 
(the  soul)  read  that  such  an  image  or 
stroke  in  matter  (whether  that  of  her  ve- 
hicle or  of  the  brain,  the  case  is  the  same) 
signifies  such  an  object !  Did  we  learn  an 
alphabet  in  our  embryo  state  1  And  how 
comes  it  to  pass  that  we  are  not  aware  of 
any  such  congenite  apprehensions  1  We 
know  what  we  know  ;  but  do  we  know 
any  more  ]  That  by  diversity  of  motions 
we  should  spell  out  figures,  distances, 
magnitudes,  colours,  things  not  resembled 
by  them,  we  must  attribute  to  some  se- 
cret deduction.  But  what  this  deduction 
should  be,  or  by  what  medium  this  knowl- 
edge is  advanced,  is  as  dark  as  ignorance. 
One  that  hath  not  the  knowledge  of  letters 
may  see  the  figures,  but  comprehends  not 
the  meaning  included  in  them  ;  an  infant 
may  hear  the  sounds  and  see  the  motion 
of  the  lips,  but  hath  no  conception  con- 
veyed by  them,  not  knowing  what  they 
are  intended  to  signify.  So  our  souls, 
though  they  might  have  perceived  the  mo- 
tions and  "images  themselves  by  simple 
sense,  yet  without  some  implicit  inference 
it  seems  inconceivable  how  by  that  jneans 
they  should  apprehend  their  antitypes. 


*  Scepsis  Scientirica,  p.  16.    We  havt  just  seer 
something  similar  in  Spinosa. 


r. 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


The  striking  of  divers  filaments  of  the 
brain  cannot  well  be  supposed  to  represent 
distances,  except  some  kind  of  inference 
be  allotted  us  in  our  faculties ;  the  con- 
cession of  which  will  only  stead  us  as  a 
refuge  for  ignorance,  when  we  shall  meet 
what  we  would  seem  to  shun."*  Glanvil, 
in  this  forcible  statement  of  the  hetero- 
geneity of  sensations  with  the  objects  that 
suggest  them,  has  but  trod  in  the  steps  of 
the  whole  Cartesian  school,  but  he  did  not 
mix  this  np  with  those  crude  notions  that 
halt  half  way  between  irnmaterialism  and 
its  opposite  ;  and  afterward  well  exposes 
the  theories  of  accounting  for  the  memory 
by  means  of  images  in  the  brain,  which,  in 
various  ways,  Aristotle,  Descartes,  Digby, 
Gassendi,  and  Hobbes  had  propounded, 
and  which  we  have  seen  so  favourite  a 
speculation  of  Malebranche. 

100.  It  would  be  easy  to  quote  many 
paragraphs  of  uncommon  vivacity  and 
acuteness  from  this  forgotten  treatise. 
The  style  is  eminently  spirited  and  elo- 
quent ;  a  little  too  figurative,  like  that  of 
Locke,  but  less  blameable,  because  Glan- 
vil is  rather  destroying  than  building  up. 
Every  bold  and  original  thought  of  others 
finds  a  willing  reception  in  Glanvil's  mind, 
and  his  confident,  impetuous  style  gives 
them  an  air  of  novelty  which  makes  them 
pass  for  his  own.  He  stands  forward  as  a 
mutineer  against  authority,  against  educa- 
tional prejudice,  against  reverence  for  an- 
tiquity.f  No  one  thinks  more  intrepidly 
for  Himself;  and  it  is  probable  that,  even 
in  what  seems  mere  superstition,  he  had 
been  rather  misled  by  some  paradoxical 
hypothesis  of  his  own  ardent  genius,  than 
by  slavishly  treading  in  the  steps  of  oth- 
ers, t 


*  P.  22,  23. 

•f  "  Now  if  we  inquire  the  reason  why  the  math- 
ematics and  mechanic  arts  have  so  much  got  the 
start  in  growth  of  other  sciences,  we  shall  find  it 
probably  resolved  into  this  as  one  considerable 
cause,  that  their  progress  hath  not  been  retarded  by 
that  reverential  awe  of  former  discoveries,  which 
hath  been  so  great  a  hinderance  to  theoncal  im- 
provements. For,  as  the  noble  Lord  Verulam  hath 
noted,  we  have  a  mistaken  apprehension  of  anti- 
quity, calling  that  so  which  in  truth  is  the  world's 
non-age.  Antiquitas  sseculi  est  juventus  mundi. 
'Twas  this  vain  idolizing  of  authors  which  gave 
birth  to  that  silly  vanity  of  impertinent  citations, 
and  inducing  authority  in  things  neither  requiring 
nor  deserving  it. — Methinks  it  is  a  pitiful  piece  of 
knowledge  that  can  be  learned  from  an  index,  and 
a  poor  ambition  to  be  rich  in  the  inventory  of  anoth- 
er's treasure.  To  boast  a  memory,  the  most  that 
these  pedants  can  aim  at,  is  but  an  humble  ostenta- 
tion," p.  104. 

J  "  That  the  fancy  of  one  man  should  bind  the 
thoughts  of  another,  and  determine  them  to  their 
particular  objects,  will  be  thought  impossible; 
which  yet,  if  we  look  deeply  into  the  matter,  wants 
not  its  probability,"  p.  146.  He  dwells  more  on 


101.  Glanvil   sometimes   quotes  Lord 
Bacon,  but  he  seems  to  have  had  the  am- 
bition of  contending  with  the  Novum  Or- 

;  ganum  in  some  of  its  brilliant  passages, 
;  and  has  really  developed  the  doctrine  of 
|  idols  with  uncommon  penetration,  as  well 
.  as  force  of  language.     "  Our  initial  age  is 
I  like  the  melted  wax  to  the  prepared  seal, 
;  capable  of  any  impression  from  the  docu- 
ments of  our  teachers.     The  half- moon  or 
j  cross  are  indifferent  to  its  reception  ;  and 
we  may,  with  equal  facility,  write  on  this 
j  rasa  tabula  Turk  or  Christian.     To  deter- 
I  mine  this  indifferency,  our  first  task  is  to 
j  learn  the  creed  of  our  country,  and  our 
i  next  to  maintain  it.     We  seldom  examine 
our  receptions  more  than  children  do  their 
catechisms,  but,  by  a  careless  greediness, 
swallow  all  at  a  venture.     For  implicit 
faith  is  a  virtue  where  orthodoxy  is  the 
object.     Some  will  not  be  at  the  trouble 
of  a  trial,  others  are  scared  from  attempt- 
ing it.     If  we  do,  'tis  not  by  a  sunbeam 
or  ray  of  light,  but  by  a  flame  that  is  kin- 
dled by  our  affections,  and  fed  by  the  fuel 
of  our  anticipations.     And  thus,  like  the 
hermit,  we  think  the  sun  shines  nowhere 
but  in  our  cell,  and  all  the  world  to  be 
darkness  but  ourselves.     We  judge  truth 
to  be  circumscribed  by  the  confines  of  our 
belief  and  the  doctrines  we  were  brought 
up  in."*     Few  books,  I  think,  are  more 
deserving  of  being  reprinted  than  the  Scep- 
sis Scientifica  of  Glanvil. 

102.  Another  bold  and  able  attack  was 
made  on  the  ancient  philosophy  by  His  Pius 
Glanvil,  in  his  "  Plus  Ultra,  or  the  T'ltra 
Progress  and  Advancement  of  Knowledge 
since  the  days  of  Aristotle,  1668."     His 
tone  is  peremptory  and  imposing,  anima- 
ted and  intrepid,  such  as  befits  a  warrior 
in  literature.     Yet  he  was  rather  acute  by 
nature  than  deeply  versed  in  learning,  and 
talks  of  Vieta  and  Descartes's  algebra  so 
as  to  show  he  had  little  knowledge  of  the 
science,  or  of  what,  they  had  done  for  it.-f 
His  animosity  against  Aristotle  is  unrea- 
sonable, and  he  was  plainly  an  incompe- 
tent judge  of  that  philosopher's   general 
deserts.     Of  Bacon  and  Boyle  he  speaks 
with  just  eulogy.     Nothing  can  be  more 
free  and  bold  than  Glanvil's  assertion  of 
the  privilege  of  judging  for  himself  in  re- 
ligion ;|  and   he  had  doubtless  a  perfect 
right  to  believe  in  witchcraft. 

103.  George  Dalgarno,  a  native  of  Aber- 


this,  but  the  passage  is  too  long  to  extract.  It  is 
remarkable  that  he  supposes  a  subtle  aHher  (like 
that  of  the  modern  Mesmerists)  to  be  the  medium 
of  communication  HI  such  cases  ;  and  had  also  a 
notion  of  explaining  these  sympathies  by  help  of  the 
anima  mundi,  or  mundane  spirit.  *  P  95. 

t  Plus  Ultra,  p.  24  and  33.  J   P.  142. 


FROM  1650  TO  1700. 


327 


Dalgarno. 


deen,  conceived,  and,  as  it  seem- 
ed to  him,  carried  into  effect,  the 
idea  of  a  universal  language  and  charac- 
ter. His  Ars  Signorum,  vulgo  Character 
Universalis  et  Lingua  Philosophica,  Lond., 
1661,  is  dedicated  to  Charles  II.  in  this 
philosophical  character,  whidi  must  have 
been  as  great  a  mystery  to  the  sovereign 
us  to  his  subjects.  This  dedication  is  fol- 
lowed by  a  royal  proclamation  in  good 
English,  inviting  all  to  study  this  useful 


that  it  abandons  the  alphabet,  and,  conse- 
quently, admits  of  a  greater  variety  of 
characters.  It  is  not  a  new  language,  but 
a  more  analytical  scheme  of  characters 
for  English.  Dalgarno  seems  to  have 
known  something  of  it,  though  he  was 
the  first  to  publish  and  glance  at  "a  more 
diilicult  way  of  writing  English."  Wit- 
kins  also  intimates  that  Ualgarno's  com- 
pendious method  would  not  succeed.  His 
own  has  the  same  fault  of  a  premature 


art,  which  had  been  recommended  by  di-  I  classification  of  things  ;  and  it  is  very  for- 


vers  learned  men,  Wilkins,  Wallis,  Ward. 
and  others,  "judging  it  to  be  of  singular 


Umate  that  neither  of  these  ingenious  but 
presumptuous   attempts   to   fasten  down 


juages 

Dalgarno  is  fundamentally  bad,  in  that  he 
assumes  himself,  or  the  authors  he  fol- 
lows, to  have  given  a  complete  distribu- 
tion of  all  things  and  ideas  ;  after  which 
his  language  is  only  an  artificial  scheme 
of  symbols.  It  is  evident  that,  until  ob- 
jects are  truly  classified,  a  representative 
method  of  signs  can  only  rivet  and  per- 
petuate error.  We  have  but  to  look  at  his 
tabular  synopsis  to  see  that  his  ignorance 
of  physics,  in  the  largest  sense  of  the 
word,  renders  his  scheme  deficient ;  and 
he  has  also  committed  the  error  of  adopt- 
ing the  combinations  of  the  ordinary  al- 
phabet, with  a  little  help  from  the  Greek, 
which,  even  with  his  slender  knowledge 
of  species,  soon  leave  him  incapable  of 
expressing  them.  But  Dalgarno  has  sev- 
eral acute  remarks  ;  and  it  deserves  es- 
pecially to  be  observed,  that,  he  anticipated 
the  famous  discovery  of  the  Dutch  philol- 
ogers,  namely,  that  all  other  parts  of 
speech  may  be  reduced  to  the  noun,  dex- 
terously, if  not  successfully,  resolving  the 
verb-substantive  into  an  affirmative  parti- 
cle.* 

101.  Wilkins,  bishop  of  Chester,  one  of 
w  the  most  ingenious  men  of  his  age, 

published,  in  1668,  his  Essay  to- 
wards a  Philosophical  Language,  which 
has  this  advantage  over  that  of  Dalgarno, 


use  for  facilitating  the  matter  of  commu-  j  the  progressive  powers  of  the  human 
nication  and  intercourse  between  people  mind  by  the  cramps  of  association  had 
of  different  languages."  The  scheme  of  the  least  success.* 

105.  But  from  these  partial,  and  now 
ve,ry  obscure  endeavours  of  Eng- 
lish writers  in  metaphysical  pin-  Human"1 
losophy,  we  come  at  length  to  the  Under- 
work that  has  eclipsed  every  oth-  B 
er,  and  given  to  such  inquiries  whatever 
popularity  they  ever  possessed, 
the  Essay  of  Locke  on  the  Hu- 
man Understanding.  Neither  the  writings 
of  Descarters,  nor  perhaps  those  of  Hobbes, 
so  far  as  strictly  metaphysical,  had  ex- 
cited much  attention  in  England  beyond 
the  class  of  merely  studious  men.  But 
the  Essay  on  the  Human  Understanding 
was  frequently  reprinted  within  a  few 
years  from  its  publication,  and  became 
the  acknowledged  code  of  English  philos- 
ophy, f  The  assaults  it  had  to  endure  in 
the  author's  lifetime,  being  deemed  to  fail, 
were  of  service  to  its  reputation  ;  and 
considerably  more  than  half  a  century  was 
afterward  to  elapse  before  any  writer  in 
our  language  (nor  was  the  case  very  dif- 
ferent in  France,  after  the  patronage  ac- 
corded to  it  by  Voltaire)  could,  with  much 
chance  of  success,  question  any  leading 
doctrine  of  its  author.  Several  circum- 


*  Tandem  tnihi  affnlsit  clarior  lux  ;  accnratius 
enim  exarninando  omnium  notionuin  analysin  logi- 
cam,  percepi  nullarn  esse  particulam  qua?  non  deri- 
vetur  a  nomine  aliquo  presdicamentali,  et  omnes 


*  Dalgarno,  many  years  afterward,  turned  his  at- 
tention to  a  subject  of  no  slight  interest,  even  in 
mere  philosophy—  the  instruction  of  the  deaf  anil 
dumb.  His  Didascalocophus  is  perhaps  the  first 
atte'mpt  to  found  this  on  the  analysis  of  language. 
But  it  is  not  so  philosophical  as  what  has  since  been 
effected. 

t  It  was  abridged  at  Oxford,  and  used  by  some 
tutors  as  early  as  1C95.  But  the  heads  of  the  Uni- 


particulas esse  vere  casus  seu   modos  notionum  |  versity  came  afterward  to  a  resolution  to  discour- 


nominalium,  p.  120.  He  does  not  seem  to  have  ar- 
rived at  this  conclusion  by  etymological  analysis, 
but  by  his  own  logical  theories. 

The  verb-substantive,  he  says,  is  equivalent  to 
ita.  Thus,  Petrus  est  in  domo,  means  Petrus  —  ita 
—  in  dorno.  That  is,  it  expresses  an  idea  of  appo- 
sition or  conformity  between  a  subject  and  predi- 
cate. This  is  a  theory  to  which  a  man  might  be 
led  by  the  habit  of  considering  propositions  logi- 
cally, and  thus  reducing  all  vjrbs  to  the  verb-sub- 
stantive ;  and  it  is  not  deficient,  at  least,  in  plausi- 
bility. 


the  reading  of  it.  Siillingikc-t,  among  many 
others,  wrote  against  the  Kssay  ;  and  Locko,  as  is 
well  known,  answered  the  bishop.  I  doiml  know 
that  the  latter  makes  altogether  so  poor  a  figure  as 
has  been  taken  for  granted  ;  but  the  defence  of 
Locke  will  seem  in  most  instances  satisfactory. 
Its  success  in  public  opinion  contributed  much  to 
the  renown  of  his  work  ;  for  Stillmgfleet,  though 
not  at  all  conspicuous  as  a  philosopher,  enjoyed  a 
great  deal  of  reputation,  and  the  world  can  seldom 
understand  why  a  man  who  excels  in  one  province 
of  literature  should  fail  in  another. 


328 


LITERATURE   OF  EUROPE 


stances  no  doubt  conspired  with  its  in- 
trinsic excellence  to  establish  so  para- 
mount a  rule  in  an  age  that  boasted  of 
peculiar  independence  of  thinking,  and 
full  of  intelligent  and  inquisitive  spirits. 
The  sympathy  of  an  English  public  with 
Locke's  tenets  as  to  government  and  reli- 
gion was  among  the  chief  of  these  ;  and 
the  reaction  that  took  place  in  a  large 
portion  of  the  reading  classes  towards 
the  close  of  the  eighteenth  century  turn- 
ed, in  some  measure,  the  tide  even  in  met- 
aphysical disquisition.  It  then  became 
fashionable  sometimes  to  accuse  Locke 
of  preparing  the  way  for  skepticism  ;  a 
charge  which,  if  it  had  been  truly  applica- 
ble to  some  of  his  opinions,  ought  rather 
to  have  been  made  against  the  long  line  of 
earlier  writers  with  whom  he  held  them 
in  common  ;  sometimes,  with  more  pre- 
tence, to  allege  that  he  had  conceded  too 
much  to  materialism  ;  sometimes  to  point 
out  and  exaggerate  other  faults  and  errors 
of  his  Essay,  till  we  have  seemed  in  dan- 
ger of  forgetting  that  it  is  perhaps  the 
first,  and  still  the  most  complete  chart  of 
the  human  mind  which  has  been  laid  down ; 
the  most  ample  repertorjflfcjF-  truths  relating 
to  our  intellectual  beingf"roid  the  one  book 
which  we  are  compelled  to  name  as  the 
first  in  metaphysical  science.  Locke  had 
not,  it  may  be  said,  the  luminous  perspi- 
cacity of  language  we  find  in  Descartes, 
and,  when  he  does  not  soar  too  high,  in 
Malebranche  ;  but  he  had  more  judgment, 
more  caution,  more  patience,  more  free- 
dom from  paradox,  and  from  the  sources 
of  paradox,  vanity  and  love  of  system, 
than  either.  We  have  no  denial  of  sen- 
sation to  brutes ;  no  reference  of  mathe- 
matical truths  to  the  will  of  God ;  no  os- 
cillation between  the  extremes  of  doubt 
and  of  positiveness  ;  no  bewildering  mys- 
ticism ;  no  unintelligible  chaps  of  words. 
Certainly  neither  Gassendi,  nor  even 
Hobbes,  could  be  compared  with  him  ; 
and  it  might  be  asked  of  the  admirers  of 
later  philosophers,  those  of  Berkeley,  or 
Hume,  or  Hartley,  or  Reid,  or  Stewart,  or 
Brown,  without  naming  any  on  the  Con- 
tinent of  Europe,  whether,  in  the  extent 
of  their  researches,  or  in  the  originality 
of  their  discoveries,  any  of  these  names 
ought  to  stand  on  a  level  with  that  of 
Locke  *?  One  of  the  greatest  I  have  men- 
tioned, and  one  who,  though  candid  to- 
wards Locke,  had  no  prejudice  whatever 
in  his  favour,  has  extolled  the  first  two 
books  of  the  Essay  on  the  Human  Under- 
standing, which  yet  he  deems  in  many  re- 
spects inferior  to  the  third  and  fourth,  as 
"  a  precious  accession  to  the  theory  of  the 
human  mind ;  as  the  richest  contribution 


of  well-observed  and  well-described  facts 
which  was  ever  bequeathed  by  a  single 
individual ;  and  as  the  indisputable,  though 
not  always  acknowledged,  source  of  some 
of  the  most  refined  conclusions  with  re- 
spect to  the  intellectual  phenomena  which 
have  since  been  brought  to  light  by  suc- 
ceeding inquirers."* 

106.  It  would  be  an  unnecessary  pro- 
lixity to  offer  in  this  place  an  anal- 
ysis of  so  well-known  a  book  as    " 

the  Essay  on  the  Human  Understanding. 
Few  have  turned  their  attention  to  meta- 
physical inquiries  without  reading  it.  It 
has,  however,  no  inconsiderable  faults, 
which,  though  much  overbalanced,  are  not 
to  be  passed  over  in  a  general  eulogy.  Tho 
style  of  Locke  is  wanting  in  philosophical 
precision ;  it  is  a  very  fine  model  of  Eng- 
lish language ;  but  too  idiomatic  and  col- 
loquial, too  indefinite  and  figurative,  for 
the  abstruse  subjects  with  which  he  has 
to  deal.  We  miss  in  every  page  the  trans- 
lucent simplicity  of  his  great  French  pred- 
ecessors. This  seems  to  have  been  ow- 
ing, in  a  considerable  degree,  to  an  exces- 
sive desire  of  popularizing  the  subject,  and 
shunning  the  technical  pedantry  which 
had  repelled  the  world  from  intellectual 
philosophy.  Locke  displays  in  all  his 
writings  a  respect,  which  can  hardly  be  too 
great,  for  men  of  sound  understanding,  un- 
prejudiced by  authority,  mingled  with  a 
scorn,  perhaps  a  little  exaggerated,  of  the 
gown-men  or  learned  world  ;  little  sus- 
pecting that  the  same  appeal  to  the  peo- 
ple, the  same  policy  of  setting  up  equivo- 
cal words  and  loose  notions,  called  the 
common  sense  of  mankind,  to  discomfit 
subtle  reasoning,  would  afterward  be  turn- 
ed against  himself,  as  it  was,  very  unfair- 
ly and  unsparingly,  by  Reid  and  Beattie. 
Hence  he  falls  a  little  into  a  laxity  of 
phrase,  not  unusual,  and  not  always  im- 
portant, in  popular  and  practical  discourse, 
but  an  inevitable  source  of  confusion  in 
the  very  abstract  speculations  which  his 
Essay  contains.  And  it  may  perhaps  be 
suspected,  without  disparagement  to  his 
great  powers,  that  he  did  not  always  pre- 
serve the  utmost  distinctness  of  concep- 
tion, and  was  liable,  as  almost  every  other 
metaphysician  has  been,  to  be  entangled 
in  the  ambiguities  of  language. 

107.  The  leading  doctrine  of  Locke,  as 
is  well  known,  is  the  derivation  of 

e  j    Origin  of 

all  our  ideas  from  sensation  and  j,it-as,  ac. 
from  reflection.     The  former  pre-  porting  i» 
sent  no  great  difficulty  ;  we  know  Locke- 
what  is  meant  by  the  expression  ;  but  he 

*  Stewart's  Preliminary  LMssertation  to  Ency 
clopaedia,  part  ii. 


FROM  1650  TO  1700. 


329 


is  not  very  clear  or  consistent  about  the 
latter.  He  seems,  in  general,  to  limit  tho 
word  to  the  various  operations  of  our  own 
minds  in  thinking,  believing,  willing,  and 
so  forth.  This,  as  has  been  shown  for- 
merly, is  taken  from,  or  at  least  coincident 
with,  the  theory  of  Gassendi  in  his  Syn- 
tagma Philosophic-urn.  It  is  highly  prob- 
able that  Locke  was  acquainted  with  that 
work  ;  if  not  immediately,  yet  through  the 
account  of  the  Philosophy  of  Gassendi, 
published  in  English  by  Dr.  Charleton,  in 
1663,  which  I  have  not  seen,  or  through 
the  excellent  and  copious  abridgment  of 
the  Syntagma  by  Bernier.  But  he  does 
not  strictly  confine  his  ideas  of  reflection 
to  this  class.  Duration  is  certainly  no 
mode  of  thinking ;  yet  the  idea  of  duration 
is  reckoned  by  Locke  among  those  with 
which  we  are  furnished  by  reflection.  The 
same  may  perhaps  be  said,  though  I  do 
not  know  that  he  expresses  himself  with 
equal  clearness,  as  to  his  account  of  sev- 
eral other  ideas,  which  cannot  be  deduced 
from  external  sensation,  nor  yet  can  be 
reckoned  modifications  or  operations  of 
the  soul  itself;  such  as  number,  power, 
existence. 

108.  Stewart  has  been  so  much  struck 
va«ue  use  DY  this  iiidefiiiiteness,  with  which 
oftlieword  the  phrase  "ideas  of  reflection" 
idea-  has  been  used  in  the  Essay  on 
the  Human  Understanding,  that  he  "does 
not  think,  notwithstanding  some  casual 
expression's  which  may  seem  to  favour 
the  contrary  supposition,  that  Locke  would 
have  hesitated  for  a  moment  to  admit,  with 
Cuclworth  and  Price,  that  the  understand- 
ing is  the  source  of  new  ideas."*  And 
though  some  might  object  that  this  is  too 
much  in  opposition,  not  to  casual  expres- 
sions, but  to  the  whole  tenour  of  Locke's 
Essay,  his  language  concerning  substance 
almost  bears  it  out.  Most  of  the  perplex- 
ity which  has  arisen  on  this  subject,  the 
combats  of  some  metaphysicians  with 
Locke,  the  portentous  errors  into  which 
others  have  been  led  by  want  of  attention 
to  his  language,  may  be  referred  to  the 
equivocal  meaning  of  the  word  idea.  The 
Cartesians  understood  by  this  whatever  is 
the  object  of  thought,  including  an  intel- 
lection as  well  as  an  imagination.  By  an 
intellection  they  meant  that  which  the 
mind  conceives  to  exist,  and  to  be  the  sub- 
ject of  knowledge,  though  it  may  be  un- 
imaginable and  incomprehensible.  Gas- 
sendi and  Locke  limit  the  word  idea  to 
something  which  the  mind  sees  and  grasps 
as  immediately  present  to  it.  "  That,"  as 
Locke  not  very  well  expresses  it,  "  which 

*  Prelim.  Dissertation. 
VOL.  II.— T  T 


the  mind  is  applied  about  while  thinking 
being  the  ideas  that  are  there."  Hence 
he  speaks  with  some  ridicule  of  "  men 
who  persuade  themselves  that  they  have 
clear,  comprehensive  ideas  of  infinity." 
Such  men  can  hardly  have  existed  ;  but  it 
is  by  annexing  the  epithets  clear  and  com- 
prehensive that  he  shows  the  dispute  to 
be  merely  verbal.  For  that  we  know  the 
existence  of  infinites  as  objectively  real, 
and  can  reason  upon  them,  Locke  would 
not  have  denied  :  and  it  is  this  knowledge 
to  which  others  gave  the  name  of  idea. 

109.  The  different  manner  in  which  this 
all-important  word  was  understood  by  phi- 
losophers is  strikingly  shown  when  they 
make  use  of  the  same  illustration.  Ar- 
nauld,  if  he  is  author  of  L'Art  de  Penser, 
mentions  the  idea  of  a  chiliagon,  or  figure 
of  1000  sides,  as  an  instance  of  the  dis- 
tinction between  that  which  we  imagine 
and  that  which  we  conceive  or  under- 
stand. Locke  has  employed  the  same 
instance  to  exemplify  the-  difference  be- 
tween clear  and  obscure  ideas.  Accord- 
ing to  the  former,  we  do  not  imagine  a 
figure  with  1000  sides  at  all ;  according  to 
the  latter,  we  form  a  confused  image  of 
it.  We  have  an  idea  of  such  a  figure,  it 
is  agreed  by  both ;  but  in  the  sense  of 
Arnauld,it  is  an  idea  of  the  understanding 
alone  ;  in  the  sense  of  Locke,  it  is  an  idea 
of  sensation,  framed,  like  other  complex 
ideas,  by  putting  together  those  we  have 
formerly  received,  though  we  may  never 
have  seen  the  precise  figure.  That  the 
word  suggests  to  the  mind  an  image  of  a 
polygon  with  many  sides  is  indubitable; 
but  it  is  urged  by  the  Cartesians  that,  as 
we  are  wholly  incapable  of  distinguishing 
the  exact  number,  we  cannot  be  said  to 
have,  in  Locke's  sense  of  the  word,  any 
idea,  even  a  distinct  one,  of  a  figure  with 
1000  sides;  since  all  we  do  imagine  is  a 
polygon.  And  it  is  evident  that  in  <>;'om- 
etry  we  do  not  reason  from  the  proper- 
ties of  the  image,  but  from  those  of  a  fig- 
ure which  the  understanding  appreh 
Locke,  however,  who  generally  preferred 
a  popular  meaning  to  one  more  metaphys- 
ically exact,  thought  it  enough  to  call  this 
a  confused  idea.  Ho  was  not,  I  believe, 
conversant  with  any  but  elementary  ge- 
ometry. Had  he  reflected  upon  that 
which  in  his  age  had  made  such  a  won- 
derful beginning,  or  even  upon  the  funda- 
mental principles  of  it,  which  might  be 
found  in  Euclid,  the  theory  of  infinitesi- 
mal quantities,  he  must,  one  wonH  sup- 
pose, have  been  more  puzzled  to  apply  his 
narrow  definition  of  an  idea.  For  what 
image  can  we  form  of  a  differential,  which 
can  pretend  to  represent  it  in  any  other 


330 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


sense  than  as  d  x  represents  it,  by  sug- 
gestion, not  by  resemblance  * 

111).  The  case  is,  however,  much  worse 
when  Locke  deviates,  as  in  the  third  and 
fourtli  books  he  constantly  does,  from  this 
sense  that  he  has  put  on  the  word  idea,  | 
and  takes  it  either  in  the  Cartesian  mean- 
ing, or  in  one  still  more  general  and  pop- 
ular. Thus,  in  the  excellent  chapter  on 
the  abuse  of  words,  he  insists  upon  the 
advantage  of  using  none  without  clear  and 
distinct  ideas;  he  who  does  not  this  "only 
making  a  noise  without  any  sense  or  sig- 
nification." If  we  combine  this  position 
with  that  in  the  second  book,  that  we 
have  no  clear  and  distinct  idea  of  a  figure 
with  1000  sides,  it  follows,  with  all  the 
force  of  syllogism,  that  we  should  not  ar- 
gue about  a  figure  of  1000  sides  at  all,  nor, 
by  parity  of  reason,  about  many  other 
things  of  far  higher  importance.  It  will 
be  found,  I  incline  to  think,  that  the  large 
use  of  the  word  idea  for  that  about  which 
we  have  some  knowledge,  without  limit- 
ing it  to  what  can  be  imagined,  pervades 
the  third  and  fourth  bocks.  Stewart  has 
ingeniously  conjectured  that  they  were 
written  before  the  second,  and  probably 
before  the  mind  of  Locke  had  been  much 
turned  to  the  psychological  analysis  which 
that  contains.  It  is,  however,  certain,  that 
in  the  Treatise  upon  the  Conduct  of  the 
Understanding,  which  was  not  published 
till  after  the  Essay,  he  uses  the  word  idea 
with  full  as  much  latitude  as  in  the  third 
and  fourth  books  of  the  latter.  We  can- 
not, upon  the  whole,  help  admitting  that 
the  story  of  a  lady  who,  after  the  perusal 
of  the  Essay  on  the  Human  Understand- 
ing, laid  it  down  with  a  remark  that  the 
book  would  be  perfectly  charming  were 
it  not  for  the  frequent  recurrence  of  one 
very  hard  word,  idea,  though  told,  possi- 
bly, in  ridicule  of  the  fair  philosopher, 
pretty  well  represents  the  state  of  mind 
in  which  many  at  first  have  found  them- 
selves. 

111.  Locke,  as  I  have  just  intimated, 
An  error  as  seems  to  have  possessed  but  a 
v.  togeomet-  slight  knowledge  of  geometry; 
ricai  figure.  a  science  which,  both  from  the 
clearness  of  the  illustrations  it  affords,  and 
from  its  admitted  efficacy  in  rendering  the 
logical  powers  acute  and  cautious,  may  be 
reckoned,  without  excepting  physiology, 
the  most  valuable  of  all  to  the  metaphysi- 
cian. But  it  did  not  require  any  geomet- 
rical knowledge,  strictly  so  called,  to  avoid 
one  material  error  into  which  he  has  fall- 
en ;  and  which  I  mention  the  rather,  be- 
cause even  Descartes,  in  one  place,  has 
said  something  of  the  same  kind,  and  I 
have  met  with  it  not  only  in  Norris  very 


distinctly  and  positively,  but,  more  or  less 
in  many  or  most  of  those  who  have  treat 
ed  of  the  metaphysics  or  abstract  princi- 
ples of  geometry.  "  I  doubt  not,"  says 
Locke,*  "  but  it  will  be  easily  granted  that 
the  knowledge  we  have  of  mathematical 
truths  is  not  only  certain,  but  real  knowl- 
edge, and  not  the  bare,  empty  vision  of 
vain,  insignificant  chimeras  of  the  brain  ; 
and  yet.  if  we  well  consider,  we  shall  find 
that  it  is  only  of  our  own  ideas.  The 
mathematician  considers  the  truth  and 
properties  belonging  to  a  rectangle  or  cir- 
cle only  as  they  are  in  idea  in  his  own 
mind ;  for  it  is  possible  he  never  found 
either  of  them  existing  mathematically, 

that  is,  precisely  true,  in  his  life 

All  the  discourses  of  the  mathematicians 
about  the  squaring  of  a  circle,  conic  sec- 
tions, or  any  other  part  of  mathematics, 
concern  not  the  existence  of  any  of  those 
figures  ;  but  their  demonstrations,  which 
depend  on  their  ideas,  are  the  same, 
whether  there  be  any  square  or  circle  in 
the  world  or  no."  And  the  inference  he 
draws  from  this  is,  that  moral  as  well  as 
mathematical  ideas  being  archetypes 
themselves,  and  so  adequate  and  com- 
plete ideas,  all  the  agreement  or  disagree- 
ment which  he  shall  find  in  them  will 
produce  real  knowledge,  as  well  as  in 
mathematical  figures. 

112.  It  is  not,  perhaps,  necessary  to  in- 
quire how  far,  upon  the  hypothesis  of 
Berkeley,  this  notion  of  mathematical  fig- 
ures, as  mere  creations  of  the  mind,  could 
be  sustained.  But,  on  the  supposition  of 
the  objectivity  of  space,  as  truly  existing 
without  us,  which  Locke  undoubtedly  be- 
lieved, it  is  certain  that  the  passage  just 
quoted  is  entirely  erroneous,  and  that  it 
involves  a  confusion  between  the  geomet- 
rical figure  itself  and  its  delineation  to  the 
eye.  A  geometrical  figure  is  a  portion  of 
space  contained  in  boundaries  determined 
by  given  relations.  It  exists  in  the  in- 
finite round  about  us,  as  the  statue  exists 
in  the  block. f  No  one  can  doubt,  if  he 
turns  his  mind  to  the  subject,  that  every 
point  in  space  is  equidistant,  in  all  direc- 
tions, from  certain  other  points.  Draw  a 
line  through  all  these,  and  you  have  the 


*  B  iv.,  c.  8. 

•f-  Michael  Angelo  has  well  conveyed  this  idea  in 
four  lines,  which  I  quote  from  Corniani. 

ISTon  ha  1'  ottimo  artista  alcun  concetto, 
Che  un  marmo  solo  in  se  non  circonscriva 
Col  suo  soverchio,  e  solo  a  quello  arriva 
La  mano  che  ohbedisce  all'  mtelletto. 

The  geometer  uses  not  the  same  obedient  hand,  but 
he  equally  feels  and  perceives  the  reality  of  that 
figure  which  the  broad  infinite  around  him  compra 
hends  con  suo  soverchio. 


FHOM  1650  TO  1700. 


331 


^ircumference  of  a  circle ;  but  the  circle 
itself  and  its  circu  nfercuce  exist  before 
the  latter  is  delineated.  The  orbit  of  a 
planet  is  not  a  regular  geometrical  figure, 
because  certain  forces  disturb  it.  But  this 
disturbance  means  only  a  deviation  from 
a  line  which  exists  really  in  space,  and 
which  the  planet  would  actually  describe 
if  there  were  nothing  in  the  universe  but 
itself  and  the  centre  of  attraction.  The 
expression,  therefore,  of  Locke,  "  whether 
there  be  any  square  or  circle  existing  in 
the  world  or  no,"  is  highly  inaccurate,  the 
latter  alternative  being  an  absurdity.  All 
possible  figures,  and  that  "  in  number 
numberless,"  exist  everywhere  ;  nor  can 
we  evade  the  perplexities  into  which  the 
geometry  of  iniinites  throws  our  imagina- 
tion by  considering  them  as  mere  beings 
of  reason,  the  creatures  of  the  geometer, 
which  I  believe  some  are  half  disposed  to 
do,  nor  by  substituting  the  vague  and  un- 
philosophical  notion  of  indefinitude  for  a 
positive  objective  infinity. 

113.  This  distinction  between  ideas  of 
mere  sensation  and  those  of  intellection, 
between  what  the  mind  comprehends,  and 
what  it  conceives  without  comprehending, 
is  the  point  of  divergence  between  the  two 
sects  of  psychology  which  still  exist  in 
the  world.  Nothing  is  in  the  intellect 
which  has  not  before  been  in  the  sense, 
said  the  Aristotelian  schoolmen.  Every 
idea  has  Us  original  in  the  senses,  repeated 
the  disciple  of  Epicurus,  Gassendi.  Locke 
indeed,  as  Gassendi  had  done  before  him. 
assigned  another  origin  to  one  class  of 
ideas  ;  but  these  were  few  in  number,  and 
in  the  next  century  two  writers  of  consid- 
erable influence,  Hartley  and  Condillac, 


overthrown.  The  opposite  philosophy  to 
that  which  never  rises  above  sensiblu  im- 
ages is  exposed  to  a  danger  of  its  own; 
it  is  one  which  the  infirmity  of  the  human 
faculties  renders  perpetually  at  hand  ;  few 
there  are  who,  in  reasoning  on  subjects 
where  we  cannot  attain  what  Locke  has 
called  "  positive  comprehensive  ideas,"  are 
secure  from  falling  into  mere  nonsense 
and  repugnancy.  In  that  part  of  physics 
which  is  simply  conversant  with  quantity, 
this  danger  is  probably  not  great;  but  in 
all  such  inquiries  as  are  sometimes  called 
transcendental,  it  has  perpetually  ship- 
wrecked the  adventurous  navigator. 

111.  In  the  language,  and  probably  the 
notions  of  Locke  as  to  the  11.1-  iis:ioiipns 
ture  of  the  soul,  there  is  an  in-  as'otiiesoui 
distinctness  more  worthy  of  the  Aristote- 
lian schoolmen  than  of  one  conversant 
with  the  Cartesian  philosophy.  "  Bodies," 
he  says,  "  manifestly  produce  ideas  in  us 
by  impulse,  the  only  way  which  we  can 
conceive  bodies  to  operate  in.  If,  then,  ex- 
ternal objects  be  not  united  to  our  minds 
when  they  produce  ideas  in  it,  and  yet  we 
perceive  these  original  qualities  in  such 
of  them  as  singly  fall  under  our  senses, 
it  is  evident  that  some  motion  must  be 
thence  continued  by  our  nerves  or  animal 
spirits,  by  some  parts  of  our  bodies  to  the 
brain  or  the  seat  of  sensation,  there  to 
produce  in  our  minds  the  particular  ideas 
we  have  of  them.  And  since  the  exten- 
sion, figure,  number,  and  motion  of  bodies 
of  an  observable  bigness  may  be  perceived 
at  a  distance  by  the  sight,  it  is  evident 
some  singly  imperceptible  bodies  must 
come  from  them  to  the  eyes,  and  thereby 
onvey  to  the  brain  some  motion  which 


attempted  to  resolve  them  all  into  sensa-    produces   those  ideas  which  we  have  of 
tion.     The  Cartesian  school,  a  name  rath-    them  in  us."     lie  so  far  retracts  his  first 


er  used  for  brevity,  as  a  short  denomina- 
tion of  all  who,  like  Cudworth,  held  the 
same  tenets  as  to  tha  nature  of  ideas,  lost 
ground  both  in  France  and  England  ;  nor 
had  Leibnitz,  who  was  deemed  an  enemy 
to  some  of  our  great  English  names,  suf- 
ficient weight  to  restore  it.  In  the  lian.ls 
of  some  who  followed  in  both  countries, 
the  worst  phrases  of  Locke  were  prefer- 
red to  the  best ;  whatever  could  be  turned 
to  the  account  of  pyrrhonism,  material- 
ism, or  atheism,  made  a  figure  in  the  Epi- 
curean system  of  a  popular  philosophy. 
The,  names  alluded  to  will  suggest  them- 
selves to  the  reader.  The  German  meta- 
physicians from  the  time  of  Kant  deserve 
at  least  the  credit  of  having  successfully 
withstood  this  coarse  sensualism,  though 
they  may  have  borrowed  much  that  their 
disciples  take  for  original,  and  added  much 
that  is  hardly  better  than  what  they  have 


position  afterward,  as  to  admit,  "  in  con- 
sequence of  what  Mr.  Newton  has  shown 
in  the  Principiaon  the  gravitation  of  mat- 
ter towards  matter,"  that  God  not  only 
can  put  into  bodies  powers  and  ways  of 
operation  above  what  can  be  explained 
from  what  we  know  of  matter,  but  that  he 
has  actually  done  so.  And  he  promises 
to  correct  the  former  passage,  which,  how- 
ever, he  has  never  performed.  In  fact,  he 
seems,  by  the  use  of  phrases  which  recur 
too  often  to  be  thought  merely  figurative, 
to  have  supposed  that  some  tiling  in  the 
brain  comes  into  local  contact  with  the 
mind.  He  was  here  unable  to  divest  him- 
self, any  more  'than  the  schoolmen  had 
done,  of  the  notion  that  there  is  a  proper 
action  of  the  body  on  the  soul  in  percep- 
tion. The  Cartesians  had  brought  in  the 
theory  of  occasional  causes  and  other  so- 
lutions of  the  phenomena,  so  as  to  avoid 


332 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


what  seems  so  irreconcilable  with  an  im- 
material principle.  No  one  is  so  lavish 
of  a  cerebral  instrumentality  in  mental  im- 


still."  Few,  perhaps,  at  present,  who  be- 
lieve in  the  immau-naiiiy  of  the  human 
soul,  would  deny  the  same  to  an  elephant ; 


ages  as  Malebranche  :  he  seems  at  every  jbut  it  must  be  owned  that  the  discoveries 


moment  on  the  verge  of  materialism  ;  he 
coquets,  as  it  were,  with  an  Epicurean 
physiology  ;  but  if  I  may  be  allowed  to 
continue  the  metaphor,  he  perceives  the 


of  zoology  have  pushed  this  to  conse- 
quences which  some  might  not  readily 
adopt.  The  spiritual  being  of  a  sponge 
revolts  a  little  our  prejudices  ;  yet  there  is 


moment  where  to  stop,  and  retires,  like  a  !  no  resting-place,  and  we  must  admit  this, 
dexterous  fair  one,  with  unsrnirched  hon- :  or  be  content  to  sink  ourselves  into  a  mass 


our  to  his  immateriality.    It  cannot  be  said 
that  Locke  is  equally  successful. 

115.  In  another  and  a  well-known  pas- 


of  medullary  fibre.  Brutes  have  been  as 
slowly  emancipated  in  philosophy  as  some 
classes  of  mankind  have  been  in  civil  pol- 


and  its  im  sage,  he  has  thrown  out  a  doubt  j  ity  ;  their  souls,  we  see,  were  almost  uni- 
maieriainy.  whether  God  might  not  superadd  i  versally  disputed  to  them  at  the  end  of 
the  faculty  of  thinking  to  matter ;  and  the  seventeenth  century,  even  by  those 
though  he  thinks  it  probable  that  this  has  who  did  not  absolutely  bring  them  down 
not  been  the  case,  leaves  it  at  last  a  de-  j  to  machinery.  Even  within  the  recollec- 
batable  question,  wherein  nothing  else  tion  of  many,  it  was  common  to  deny  them 
than  presumptions  are  to  be  had.  Yet  he  any  kind  of  reasoning  faculty,  and  to  solve 
has  strongly  argued  against  the  possibility  j  their  most  sagacious  actions  by  the  vague 
of  a  material  Deity  upon  reasons  derived  !  word  instinct.  \Ve  have  come,  of  late 


from  the  nature  of  matter.     Locke  almost 


years,  to  think  better  of  our  humble  corn- 


appears  to  have  taken  the  union  of  a  think-   panions ;  and,  as  usual  in  similar  cases, 
ing  being  with  matter  for  the  thinking  of  i  the  predominant  bias   seems  rather  too 


matter  itself.     What  is  there,  Stillingfleet 
well  asks,  like  self-consciousness  in  mat- 


much  of  a  levelling  character. 

117.  No  quality  more  remarkably  dis- 


ter  1      "  Nothing   at   all,"  Locke   replies,   tinguishes  Locke   than  his  love  ins  love  of 
"  in  matter  as  matter.     But  that  God  can-  I  of  truth.    He  is  of  no  sect  or  par-  truth  ami 
not  bestow  on  some  parcels  of  matter  a  ty ;  has  no  oblique  design,  such  or'S'nt 
power  of  thinking,  and  with  it  self-con-  I  as  we  so  frequently  perceive,  of  sustain- 


sciousness,  will  never  be  proved  by  asking 
how  it  is  possible  to  apprehend  that  mere 
body  should  perceive  that  it  doth  per- 
ceive." But  if  that  we  call  mind,  and  of 
which  we  are  self-conscious,  were  thus 
superadded  to  matter,  would  it  the  less 
be  something  real  ?  In  what  sense  can  it 
be  compared  to  an  accident  or  quality? 
It  has  been  justly  observed,  that  we  are 
much  more  certain  of  the  independent  ex- 
istence of  mind  than  of  that  of  matter. 
But  that,  by  the  constitution  of  nature,  a 
definite  organization,  or  what  will  be  gen- 
erally thought  the  preferable  hypothesis, 
an  organic  molecule,  should  be  a  neces- 
sary concomitant  of  this  immaterial  prin- 
ciple, does  not  involve  any  absurdity  at  all, 
whatever  want  of  evidence  may  be  ob- 
jected to  it. 

116.  It  is  remarkable,  that  in  the  contro- 
versy with  Stillingfieet  on  this  passage, 
Locke  seems  to  take  for  granted  that  there 
is  no  immaterial  principle  in  brutes  :  and 
as  he  had  too  much  plain  sense  to  adopt 
the  Cartesian  theory  of  their  insensibility, 
he  draws  the  most,  plausible  argument  for 
the  possibility  of  thought  in  matter  by  the 
admitted  fact  of  sensation  and  voluntary 
motion  in  these  animal  organizations. 
"  It  is  not  doubted  but  that  the  properties 
of  a  rose,  a  peach,  or  an  elephant  super- 
added  to  matter  is  in  these  things  matter 


ing  some  tenet  which  he  suppresses  ;  no 
submissiveness  to  the  opinions  of  others, 
nor,  what  very  few  lay  aside,  to  his  own. 
Without  having  adopted  certain  dominant 
ideas,  like  Descartes  and  Malebranche.  he 
follows,  with  inflexible  impartiality  and  un- 
wearied patience,  the  long  process  of  anal- 
ysis to  which  he  has  subjected  the  human 
mind.  No  great  writer  has  been  more 
exempt  from  vanity,  in  which  he  is  very 
advantageously  contrasted  with  Bacon 
and  Descartes ;  but  he  is  sometimes  a  lit- 
tle sharp  and  contemptuous  of  his  prede- 
cessors. The  origiifality  of  Locke  is  real 
and  unaffected ;  not  that  he  has  derived 
nothing  from  others,  which  would  be  a 
great  reproach  to  himself  or  to  them,  but, 
in  whatever  he  has  in  common  with  other 
philosophers,  there  is  always  a  tinge  of 
his  own  thoughts,  a  modification  of  the 
particular  talent,  or,  at  least,  a  peculiarity 
of  language  which  renders  it  not  very  easy 
of  detection.  "  It  was  not  to  be  expect- 
ed," says  Stewart,  "  that  in  a  work  so 
composed  by  snatches,  to  borrow  a  phrase 
of  the  author,  he  should  be  able  accurately 
to  draw  the  line  between  his  own  ideas 
and  the  hints  for  which  he  was  indebted 
to  others.  To  those  who  are  well  ac- 
quainted with  his  speculations,  it  must  ap- 
pear evident  that  he  had  studied  diligently 
the  metaphysical  writings  both  of  Hobbes 


FROM  1650  TO  1700. 


333 


and  Gassendi,  and  that  he  was  no  stranger 
to  the  Essays  of  Montaigne,  to  the  philo- 
sophical works  of  Bacon,  and  to  Male- 
branche's  Inquiry  after  Truth.  That  he 
'  was  familiarly  conversant  witli  the  Car- 
tesian system  may  be  presumed  from 
what  we  are  told  by  his  biographer,  that 
it  was  this  which  first  inspired  him  with  a 
disgust  at  the  jargon  of  the  schools,  and 
led  him  into  that  train  of  thinking  which 
he  afterward  prosecuted  so  successfully. 
I  do  not,  however,  recollect  that  he  has 
anywhere  in  his  Essay  mentioned  the 
name  of  any  one  of  those  authors.  It  is 
probable  that  when  he  sat  down  to  write, 
he  found  the  result  of  his  youthful  reading 
so  completely  identified  with  the  fruits  of 
his  subsequent  reflections,  that  it  was  im- 
possible for  him  to  attempt  a  separation 
of  the  one  from  the  other,  and  that  he  was 
thus  occasionally  led  to  mistake  the  treas- 
ures of  memory  for  those  of  invention. 
That  this  was  really  the  case  may  be  far- 
ther presumed  from  the  peculiar  and  ori- 
ginal cast  of  his  phraseology,  which, 
though  in  general  careless  and  unpolish- 
ed, has  always  the  merit  of  that  charac- 
teristical  unity' and  raciness  of  style,  which 
demonstrate  that  while  he  was  writing  he 
conceived  himself  to  be  drawing  only  from 
his  own  resources."* 

118.  The  writer,  however,  whom  we 
Defended  in  have  just  quoted  has  not  quite 
two  eases.  done  justice  to  the  originality  of 
Locke  in  more  than  one  instance.  Thus 
on  this  very  passage  we  find  a  note  in 
these  words  :  "  Mr.  Addison  has  remark- 
ed that  Malebranche  had  the  start  of 
Locke  by  several  years  in  his  notions  on 
the  subject  of  duration.  Some  other  coin- 
cidences not  less  remarkable  might  be 
easily  pointed  out  in  the  opinions  of  the 
English  and  of  the  French  philosopher."  I 
am  not  prepared  to  dispute,  nor  do  I  doubt 
the  truth  of  the  latter  sentence.  But  with 
respect  to  the  notions  of  Malebranche  and 
Locke  on  duration,  it  must  be  said  that 
they  are  neither  the  same,  nor  has  Addi- 
son asserted  them  to  be  so.f  The  one 
threw  out  an  hypothesis  with  no  attempt 
at  proof;  the  other  offered  an  explanation 
of  the  phenomena.  What  Locke  lias  ad- 
vanced as  to  our  getting  the  idea  of  dura- 
tion by  reflecting  on  the  succession  of  our 
ideas  seems  to  be  truly  his  own.  Wheth- 
er it  be  entirely  the  right  explanation  is 
another  question.  It  rather  appears  to 
me  that  the  internal  sense,  as  we  may  not 
improperly  call  it,  of  duration  belongs  sep- 
arately to  each  idea,  and  is  rather  lost  than 

*  Preliminary  Dissertation, 
t  Spectator,  No.  94. 


suggested  by  their  succession.  Duration 
is  best  perceived  when  we  are  able  to  de- 
tain an  idea  for  some  time  without  change, 
as  in  watching  the  motion  of  a  pendulum. 
And  though  it  is  impossible  for  the  mind 
to  continue  in  this  state  of  immobility 
more,  perhaps,  than  about  a  second  or  two, 
this  is  sufficient  to  give  us  an  idea  of  du- 
ration as  the  necessary  condition  of  ex- 
istence. Whether  this  be  an  objective  or 
merely  a  subjective  necessity,  is  an  ab- 
struse question,  which  our  sensations  do 
not  decide.  But  Locke  appears  to  have 
looked  rather  at  the  measure  of  duration, 
by  which  \ve  divide  it  into  portions,  than 
at  the  mere  simplicity  of  the  idea  itself. 
Such  a  measure,  it  is  certain,  can  only  be 
obtained  through  the  medium  of  a  su 
sion  in  our  ideas. 

119.  It  has  been  also  remarked  by  Stew- 
art, that  Locke  claims  a  discovery  rather 
due  to  Descartes,  namely,  the   impossi- 
bility of  defining  simple  ideas.   Descartes. 
however,  as  well  as  the  authors  of  the 
Port- Royal  Logic,  merely  says  that  words 
already  as  clear  as  we  can  make  them  do 
not  require,  or  even  admit  of  definition. 
But  I  do  not  perceive  that  he  has  made 
the  distinction  we  find  in  the  Essay  on  the 
Human  Understanding,  that  the  names  of 
simple  ideas  are  not  capable  of  any  defi- 
nition, while  the    names  of  all  complex 
ideas  are  so.     "It  has  not,  that  I  know,'' 
Locke  says,  "been  observed  by  anybody 
what  words  are  and  what  are  not  capa- 
ble of  being  defined."    The  passage  1  have 
quoted  in  another  place  (page  !)9),  from 
Descartes's  posthumous  dialogue,  even  if 
it  went  to  this  length,  was  unknown  to 
Locke;  yet  he  might  have  acknowl 

that  he  had  been  in  some  measure  antici- 
pated in  other  observations  by  that  phi- 
losopher. 

120.  The  first  book  of  the  Essay  on  the 
Human  Understanding  is  direct-  jiis  view  »r 
ed.  as  is  well  known,  against  the  '""•"<•  Wcw- 
doctrine  of  innate  ideas,  or  innate  princi- 
ples in  the   mind.     This  has  been  often 
censured,  as  combating  in  some  places  a 
tenet  which  no  one  would  support,  and  as, 
in  other  passages,  breaking  in  upon  moral 
distinctions  themselves,  by  disputing  th;> 
universality    of    their    acknowledgment. 
With  respect  to  the  former  chaivrc,  it  is 
not,  perhaps,  easy  for  usto  determine  what 
might  be  the  crude  and  confused  notions, 
or,  at  least,  language  of  many  who  held 
the  theory  of  inmife  ideas.     It  is  by  no 
means  evident  that  Locke  had  Descartes 
chiefly  or  even  at  all  in  view.     I/ ml  Her- 
bert, "whom   he   distinctly   answers,   and 
many  others,   especially  the   Platonists, 
had  dwelt  upon  innate  ideas  in  far  stronger 


331 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


terms  than  the  great  French  metaphy- 
sician, if,  indeed,  he  can  be  said  to  have 
maintained  them  at  all.  The  latter  and 
more  important  accusation  rests  upon  no 
other  pretext  than  that  Locke  must  be 
reckoned  among  those  who  have  not  ad- 
mitted a  moral  faculty  of  discovering  right 
from  wrong  to  be  a  part  of  our  constitu- 
tion. But  that  there  is  a  law  of  nature 
imposed  by  the  Supreme  Being,  and  con- 
sequently universal,  has  been  so  repeated- 
ly asserted  in  his  writings,  that  it  would 
imply  great  inattention  to  question  it. 
Stewart  lias  justly  vindicated  Locke  in  this 
respect  from  some  hasty  and  indefinite 
charges  of  Beattie  ;  but  I  must  venture  to 
think  that  he  goes  much  too  far  when  he 
attempts  to  identify  the  doctrines  of  the 
Essay  with  those  of  Shaftesbury.  These 
two  philosophers  were  in  opposite  schools 
as  to  the  test  of  moral  sentiments.  Locke 
seems  always  to  adopt  what  is  called  the 
selfish  system  in  morals,  resolving  all 
morality  into  religion,  and  all  religion  into 
a  regard  to  our  own  interest.  And  he 
seems  to  have  paid  less  attention  to  the 
emotions  than  to  the  intellectual  powers 
of  the  soul. 

121.  I;  would  by  no  means  be  difficult 
General  to  controvert  other  tenets  of  this 
praise     great  man.    But  the  obligations  we 
owe  to  him  for  the  Essay  on  the  Human 
Understanding  are  never  to  be  forgotten. 
It  is  truly  the  first  real  chart  of  the  coasts  ; 
wherein  some  may  be  laid  down  incor- 
rectly, but  the  general  relations  of  all  are 
perceived.    And  we,  who  find  some  things 
to  censure  in  Locke,  have  perhaps  learned 
how  to  censure  them  from  himself;  we 
have  thrown  off  so  many  false  notions 
and  films  of  prejudice  by  his  help,  that  we 
are  become  capable  of  judging  our  master. 
This  is  what  has  been  the  fate  of  all  who 
have  pushed  onward   the   landmarks«of 
science  ;  they  have  made  that  easy  for  in- 
ferior men  which  was  painfully  laboured 
through  by  themselves.    Among  many  ex- 
cellent things  in   the  Essay  on   Human 
Understanding,  none  are  more  admirable 
than  the  whole  third  book  on  the  nature 
of  words,  especially  the  three  chapters  on 
their  imperfection  and  abuse.     In  earlier 
treatises  of  logic,  at  least  in  that  of  Port- 
Royal,  some  of  this  might  be  found ;  but 
nowhere  are  verbal  fallacies,  and,  above 
all,  the  sources  from  which  they  spring,  so 
fully  and  conclusively  exposed. 

122.  The  same  praiseworthy  diligence 
Locke's  con-  in  hunting  error  to  its  lurking- 
duct  of  Un-    places  distinguishes   the   short 
derstanding.   treatise  on  the  Conduct  of  the 
Understanding;  which,  having  been  origin- 
ally designed  as  an  additional  chapter  to 


the  Essay,*  is,  as  it  were,  the  ethical  ap- 
plication of  its  theory,  and  ought  always 
to  be  read  with  it,  if,  indeed,  for  the  sake 
of  its  practical  utility,  it  should  not  come 
sooner  into  the  course  of  education.  Aris- 
totle himself,  and  the  whole  of  his  dialec- 
tical school,  had  pointed  out  many  of  the 
sophisms  against  which  we  should  guard 
our  reasoning  faculties ;  but  these  are 
chicfiy  such  as  others  attempt  to  put  upon 
us  in  dispute.  There  are  more  dangerous 
fallacies  by  which  we  cheat  ourselves : 
prejudice,  partiality,  self-interest,  vani- 
ty, inattention,  and  indifference  to  truth. 
Locke,  who  was  as  exempt  from  these  as 
almost  any  man  who  has  turned  his  mind 
to  so  many  subjects  where  their  influ- 
ence is  to  be  suspected,  has  dwelt  on  the 
moral  discipline  of  the  intellect  in  this 
treatise  better,  as  I  conceive,  than  any  of 
his  predecessors,  though  we  have  already 
seen,  and  it  might  appear  far  more  at 
length  to  those  who  should  have  recourse 
to  the  books,  that  Arnauld  and  Male- 
branche,  besides  other  French  philoso- 
phers of  the  age,  had  not  been  remiss  in 
this  indispensable  part  of  logic. 

1-23.  Locke  throughout  this  treatise  la- 
bours to  secure  the  honest  inquirer  from 
that  previous  persuasion  of  his  own  opin- 
ion, which  generally  renders  all  his  pre- 
tended investigations  of  its  truth  little 
more  than  illusive  and  nugatory.  But 
the  indifferency  he  recommends  to  every- 
thing except  truth  itself,  so  that  we  should 
not  even  wish  anything  to  be  true  before 
we  have  examined  whether  it  be  so,  seems 
to  involve  the  impossible  hypothesis  that 
man  is  but  a  purely  reasoning  being.  It 
is  vain  to  press  the  recommendation  of 
freedom  from  prejudice  so  far;  since  we 
cannot  but  conceive  some  propositions  to 
be  more  connected  with  our  welfare  than 
others,  and,  consequently,  to  desire  their 
truth.  These  exaggerations  lay  a  funda- 
mental condition  of  honest  inquiry  open 
to  the  sneers  of  its  adversaries;  and  it  is 
sufficient,  because  nothing  more  is  really 
attainable,  first  to  dispossess  ourselves  of 
the  notion  that  our  interests  are  concern- 
ed where  they  are  not,  and  next,  even 
when  we  cannot  but  wish  one  result  of 
our  inquiries  rather  than  another,  to  be  the 
more  unremitting  in  our  endeavours  to 
exclude  this  bias  from  our  reasoning. 

124.  I  cannot  think  any  parent  or  in- 
structer  justified  in  neglecting  to  put  this 
little  treatise  in  the  hands  of  a  boy  about 
the  time  when  the  reasoning  faculties  be- 
come developed.  It  will  give  him  a  sober 


*  See  a  letter  to  Molyneux,  Hated  April,  1697. 
Locke's  Works  (fol..  1759),  vol.  iii.,  D.  539. 


FROM   1630  TO  1700. 


335 


and  serious,  not  flippant  or  self-conceited, 
independency  of  thinking ;  and,  while  it 
teaches  how  to  distrust  ourselves,  and  to 
watch  those  prejudices  which  necessarily 
grow  up  from  one  cause  or  another,  will 


inspire 


asouable  confidence  in  what 


he  has  well  considered,  by  taking  off  a 
little  of  that  deference  to  authority,  which 
is  the  more  to  be  regretted  in  its  c.\ 
that,  like  its  cousin-german,  party  spirit, 
it  is  frequently  united  to  loyalty  of  heart 
and  the  generous  enthusiasm  of  youth. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

HISTORY  OF  MORAL  AND  POLITICAL  PHILOSOPHY,  AND  OF  JURISPRUDENCE,  FROM   1650  TO   1700. 


SECT.   I.     ON  MORAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

Pascal's  Provincial  Letters. — Taylor. — Cuclworth. 
— Spinosa. — Cumberland's  Law  of  Nature.  —  Puf- 
feridorl's  Treatise  on  the  same  Subject. — Roche- 
foucault  and  La  Bruytire. — Locke  on  Education. 
— Fenelon. 

1.  THE  casuistical  writers  of  the  Ro- 
casuisiryof  man  Church,  and  especially  of 
the  Jesuits.  t|ie  jesujt  order,  belong  to  ear- 
lier periods  ;  for  little  room  was  left  for 
anything  but  popular  compilations  from 
large  works  of  vast  labour  and  accredited 
authority.  But  tho  false  principles  im- 
puted to  the  latter  school  now  raised  a 
louder  cry  than  before.  Implacable  and 
unsparing  enemies,  as  well  as  ambitious 
intriguers  themselves,  they  were  encoun- 
tered by  a  host  of  those  who  envied,  fear- 
ed, and  hated  them.  Among  those,  none 
were  such  willing  or  able  accusers  as  the 
Pascal's  ivo-  Jaiiscnists  whom  theypersecu- 
vinuiai  J.et-  ted.  Pascal,  by  his  Provin- 
ters-  cial  Letters,  did  more  to  ruin 

the  name  of  Jesuit  than  all  the  controver- 
sies of  Protestanism,  or  all  the  fulmina- 
tions  of  the  Parliament  of  Paris.  A  letter 
of  Antony  Aruauld,  published  in  1G55, 
wherein  lie  declared  that  he  could  not  find 
in  Jansenius  the  propositions  condemned 
by  the  pope,  and  laid  himself  open  to  cen- 
sure by  some  of  his  own,  provoked  the 
Sorbonnc,  of  which  he  was  a  member,  to 
exclude  him  from  the  faculty  of  theology. 
Before  this  resolution  was  taken,  Pascal 
came  forward  in  defence  of  his  friend,  un- 
der a  fictitious  name,  in  the  first  of  what 
have  been  always  called  Lettres  Provin- 
ciates, but,  more  accurately,  Lettres  ec  rites 
par  Louis  de  Montalte  a  un  Provincial  de 
ses  Amis.  In  the  first  four  of  them  he 
discusses  the  thorny  problems  of  Jansen- 
ism, aiming  chiefly  to  show  that  St.  Thom- 
as Aquinas  had  maintained  the  same  doc- 
trine on  efficacious  grace  which  his  disci- 
ples the  Dominicans  now  rejected  from 
another  quarter.  But  he  passed  from 
hence  to  a  theme  more  generally  intelligi- 
ble and  interesting,  the  false  morality  of 
the  Jesuit  casuists.  He  has  accumulated 


so  long  a  list  of  scandalous  decisions,  and 
dwelt  upon  them  with  so  much  wit  and 
spirit,  and  yet  with  so  serious  a  severity, 
that  the  order  of  Loyola  became  a  by- 
word with  mankind.  1  do  not  agree  with 
those  who  think  the  Provincial  Letters  a 
greater  proof  of  the  genius  of  Pascal  than 
his  Thoughts,  in  spite  of  the  many  weak- 
nesses in  reasoning  which  the  latter  dis- 
play. They  are  at  present,  finely  written 
as  all  confess  them  to  be,  too  much  filled 
with  obsolete  controversy ;  they  quote 
books  too  much  forgotten;  they  have  too 
little  bearing  on  any  permanent  sympa- 
thies, to  be  read  with  much  interest  or 
pleasure. 

2.  The  Jesuits  had,  unfortunately  for 
themselves,  no  writers  at  that  Their  truth 
time  of  sufficient  ability  to  de-  <i"t-'*t">"«i 
fend  them:  and,  being"  disliked  by  M 
by  many  who  were  not  Jansenists,  could 
make  little  stand  against  their  adversa- 
ries till  public  opinion  had  already  taken 
its  line.  They  have  since  not  failed  to 
charge  Pascal  with  extreme  misrepresent- 
ation of  their  eminent  casuists,  Kscobar, 
Busenbatim,  and  many  others,  so  that 
some  have  ventured  to  call  the  Provincial 
Letters  the  immortal  liars  (les  immortel- 
les monteuses).  It  lias  been  insinuated, 
sinre  Pascal's  veracity  is  hard  to  attack, 
that  he  was  deceived  by  tho--e  from  whom 
he  borrowed  his  quotations.  But  he  has 
declared  himself,  in  a  remarkable  pas 
not  only  that,  far  from  repenting  of  these 
letters,  he  would  make  them  yet  stronger 
if  it  were  to  be  done  again,  but  that,  al- 
though he  had  not  read  all  the  books  lie 
has  quoted,  else  he  must  have  spent  great 
part  of  his  life  in  reading  bad  books.  y<  t 
that  he  had  read  Kscobar  twice  through, 
and,  with  respect  to  the  rest,  he  had  not 
quoted  a  single  passage  without  having 
seen  it  in  the  book,  and  examined  the 
context  before,  and  after,  that  he  might 
not  confound  an  objection  with  an  answer, 
which  would  have  been  reprehensible  and 
unjust;*  it  is  therefore  impossible  to 


CEuvres  de  Pascal,  vol.  i.,  p.  400. 


336 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


save  the  honour  of  Pascal  if  his  quota- 
tions are  not  fair.  Nor  did  he  stand  alone 
in  his  imputations  on  the  Jesuit  casuistry. 
A  book,  called  Morale  des  Jesuites,  by 
Nicolas  Perrault,  published  at  Mons  in 
1667,  goes  over  the  same  ground  with  less 
pleasantry  but  not  less  learning. 

3.  The  most  extensive  and  learned  work 
Taylor's        on  casuistry  which  has  appeared 
Ducior  DU-  in  the  English  language  is  the 
biianiiu.ii.     Doctor  Dubitantium  of  Jeremy 
Taylor,  published  in  1660.     This,  as  its 
title  shows,  treats  of  subjective  morality, 
or  the  guidance  of  the  conscience.     But 
this  cannot   be   much  discussed  without 
establishing  some  principles  of  objective 
right  and  wrong,  some  standard  by  which 
the  conscience  is  to  be  ruled.    "  The  whole 
measure  and  rule  of  conscience,"  accord- 
ing to  Taylor,  "  is  the  law  of  God,  or  God's 
will  signified  to  us  by  nature  or  revelation ; 
and  by  the  several  manners,  and  times,  and 
parts  of  its  communication  it  hath  obtained 
several  names  :    the  law  of  nature — the 
consent    of   nations  —  right    reason  —  the 
Decalogue — the    sermon    of    Christ — the  | 
canons  of  the  apostles — the  laws  ecclesi- 
astical and  civil  of  princes  and  governors 
— fame,  or  the  public  reputation  of  things, 
expressed  by  proverbs,  and  other  instances 
and  manners  of  public  honesty.  .  .  .  These, 
being  the  full  measures  of  right  and  wrong, 
of  lawful  and  unlawful,  will  be  the  rule  of 
conscience  and  the  subject  of  the  present 
book." 

4.  The   heterogeneous   combination  of 
its  character  things  so  different  in  nature  and 
and  dta-cis.    authority,  as  if  they  were  all 
expressions  of  the  law  of  God,  does  not 
augur  well  for  the  distinctness  of  Taylor's 
moral  philosophy,  and  would  be  disadvan- 
tageously  compared  with  the  Ecclesiasti- 
cal Polity  of  Hooker.     Nor  are  we  de- 
ceived iu  the  anticipations  we  might  draw.  ; 
With  many  of  Taylor's  excellences,  his  ' 
vast  fertility  and  his  frequent  acuteness, ' 
the  Ductor  Dubitantium  exhibits  his  char- 
acteristic defects  ;  the  waste  of  quotations 
is  even  greater  than  in  his  other  writings, 
and  his  own  exuberance  of  mind  degener- 
ates  into   an   intolerable   prolixity.     His 
solution  of  moral  difficulties  is  often  un- 
satisfactory ;  after  an  accumulation  of  ar- 
guments and  authorities,  we  have  the  dis- 
appointment to  perceive  that  the  knot  is 
neither  untied   nor  cut ;   there  seems   a 
want  of  close  investigation  of  principles, 
a  frequent  confusion  and  obscurity,  which 
Taylor's  two  chief  faults,  excessive  dis- 
play and  redundancy  of  language,  conspire 
to  produce.   Paley  is  no  doubt  often  super- 
ficial, and  sometimes  mistaken  ;    yet  in 
clearness,  in  conciseness,  in  freedom  from 


impertinent  reference  to  authority,  he  is 
far  superior  to  Taylor. 

5.  Taylor  seems  too  much  inclined  to 
side  with  those  who  resolve  all  right  and 
wrong  into  the  positive  will  of  God.    The 
law  of  nature  he  defines  to  be  "  the  uni- 
versal law  of  the  world  or  of  mankind,  to 
which  we  are  inclined  by  nature,  invited 
by  consent,  prompted  by  reason,  but  which 
is  bound  upon  us  only  by  the  command 
of  God."     Though  in  the  strict  meaning 
of  the  word,  law,  this  may  be  truly  said, 
it  was  surely  required,  considering  the 
large  sense  which  that  word  has  obtained 
as   coincident  with   moral   right,  that   a 
fuller  explanation  should  be  given  than 
Taylor  has  even  intimated,  lest  the  good- 
ness of  the  Deity  should  seem  something 
arbitrary  and  precarious.     And,  though  in 
maintaining,  against  most  of  the  scholastic 
metaphysicians,  that   God  can  dispense 
with  the  precepts  of  the  Decalogue,  he 
may  be  substantially  right,  yet  his  reasons 
seem  by  no  means  the  clearest  and  most 
satisfactory  that  might  be  assigned.     It 
may  be  added,  that  in  his  prolix  rules  con- 
cerning  what   he   calls   a   probable   con- 
science, he  comes  very  near  to  the  much 
decried   theories  of  the  Jesuits.     There 
was,  indeed,  a  vein  of  subtlety  in  Taylor's 
understanding  which  was  not  always  with- 
out influence  on  his  candour. 

6.  A  treatise  concerning  eternal   and 
immutable    morality,    by   Cud-   cudworti* 
worth,    was   first  published    in   immutable 
1731.    This  may  be  almost  reck-   m°™i'ty. 
oned  a  portion  of  his  Intellectual  System, 
the  object  being  what  he  has  declared  to 
be  one  of  those  which  he  had  there  in 
view.     This  wTas  to  prove  that  moral  dif- 
ferences of  right  and  wrong  are  antecedent 
to  any  divine  law.     He  wrote,  therefore, 
not  only  against  the  Calvinistic  school, 
but    in    some    measure    against    Taylor, 
though  he  abstains  from  mentioning  any 
recent  author  except  Descartes,  who  had 
gone  far  in  referring  all  moral  distinctions 
to  the  arbitrary  will  of  God.     Cudworth's 
reasoning  is  by  no  means  satisfactory,  and 
rests  too  much  on  the  dogmatic  metaphys- 
ics which  were  going  out  of  use.     The 
nature  or  essence  of  nothing,  he  maintains. 
can  depend  upon  the  will  of  God  alone ; 
which  is  the  efficient,  but  not  the  formal, 
cause  of  all  things  ;  a  distinction  not  very 
intelligible,  but  on   which   he   seems  to 
build  his  theory.*     For  moral  relations, 
though  he  admits  that  they  have  no  ob- 
jective existence  out  of  the  mind,  have  a 
positive   essence,  and  therefore   are  not 
nothing;  whence  it  follows  that  they  must 


FROM  1650  TO  1700. 


337 


bo  independent  of  will.     He  pours  out    Ethics.    We  are  not  oeceived  in  Wora, 
much    ancient    learning,    though    not   so    what  might  naturally  be  expect-  tern  of  s^i- 
lavishly  as  in  the  Intellectual  System.          ed  from  the  unhesitating  adhe-  nosa- 

7.  The  urgent  necessity  of  contracting  '  rencc  of  Spinosa  to  a  rigorous  line  of  rea- 
Nicoie.  La  my  sails  in  this  last  period,  far  soiling,  that  his  ethical  scheme  would  of- 
I'lacette.  the  most  abundant  as  it  is  in  the  !  fer  nothing  inconsistent  with  the  funda- 
variety  and  extent  of  its  literature,  re-  mental  pantheism  of  his  philosophy.  In 
strains  me  from  more  than  a  bare  mention  !  nature  itself,  he  maintains  as  before'  there 
of  several  works  not  undeserving  of  re-  is  neither  perfection  nor  imperfection,  nei- 
gard.  The  Essais  de  Morale  of  Nicole  i  ther  good  nor  evil ;  but  these  are  modes 
are  less  read  than  esteemed,  says  a  late  of  speaking  adopted  to  express  the  rela- 
biographer.*  Voltaire,  however,  prophe-  tions  of  things  as  they  appear  to  our 


sied  that  they  would  not  perish.  "  The 
chapter  especially,"  he  proceeds,  "  on  the 
means  of  preserving  peace  among  men,  is 
a  masterpiece  to  which  nothing  equal  has 
been  left  to  us  by  antiquity .-"f  These 
Essays  are  properly  contained  in  six  vol- 
umes ;  but  so  many  other  pieces  are  added 
in  some  editions,  that  the  collection  under 
that  title  is  very  long.  La  Placette,  min- 
ister of  a  French  church  at  Copenhagen, 
has  been  called  the  Protestant  Nicole. 
His  Essais  de  Morale,  in  169-2  and  other 
years,  are  full  of  a  solid  morality,  rather 
strict  in  casuistry,  and  apparently  not  de- 
ficient in  observation  and  analytical  views 
of  human  nature.  They  were  much  es- 
teemed in  their  own  age.  Works  of  this 
kind  tread  so  very  closely  on  the  depart- 
ment of  practical  religion,  that  it  is  some- 
times difficult  to  separate  them  on  any 
fixed  principle.  A  less  homiletical  form, 
a  comparative  absence  of  scriptural  quota- 
tion, a  more  reasoning  and  observing 
mode  of  dealing  with  the  subject,  arc  the 
chief  distinctions.  But  in  the  sermons  of 
Barrow  and  some  others  we  find  a  great 
deal  of  what  may  be  justly  called  moral 
philosophy. 

8.  A  book  by  Sharrock,  De  Officiis  so- 
other wri-  cundum  liationis  Humans;  Dicta- 
tes, ta,  1660,  is  occasionally  quoted, 
and  seems  to  be  of  a  philosophical  na- 
ture. |  Velthuyscn,  a  Dutch  minister, 
was  of  more  reputation.  His  name  was 


minds.  Whatever  contains  more  positive 
attributes  capable  of  being  apprehended 
by  us  than  another  contains,  is  more  per- 
fect than  it.  Whatever  we  know  to  be 
useful  to  ourselves,  that  is  good  ;  and 
whatever  impedes  our  attainment  of  good 
is  evil.  By  this  utility  Spinosa  does  not 
understand  happiness,  if  by  that  is  meant 
pleasurable  sensation,  but  the  extension 
of  our  mental  and  bodily  capacities.  The 
passions  restrain  and  overpower  these  ca- 
pacities ;  and  coming  from  without,  that 
is,  the  body,  render  the  mind  a  less  pow- 
erful agent  than  it  seems  to  be.  It  is 
only,  we  may  remember,  in  a  popular 
sense,  and  subject  to  his  own  definitions, 
that  Spinosa  acknowledges  the  mind  to  be 
an  agent  at  all ;  it  is  merely  so  in  so  far 
as  its  causes  of  action  cannot  be  referred 
by  us  to  anything  external.  No  passion 
can  be  restrained  except  by  a  stronger 
passion.  Hence  even  a  knowledge  of 
what  is  really  good  or  evil  for  us  can  of 
itself  restrain  no  passion:  but  only  us  it 
is  associate, 1  with  a  perception  of  joy  and 
sorrow,  which  is  a  mode  of  passion.  This 
perception  is  necessarily  accompanied  by 
desire  or  aversion;  but  they  may  often 
be  so  weak  as  to  be  controlled  by  other 
sentiments  of  the  same  class,  inspir 
conflicting  passions.  This  is  the  < 
of  the  weakness  and  inconstancy  of  many, 
and  he  alone  is  wis  >  and  virtuous  who 
steadily  pursues  what  is  useful  to  hiin- 


rather  obnoxious  to  the  orthodox,  since  he  self;  that  is,  wii.u  reason  points  out  as 
was  a  strenuous  advocate  of  toleration,  a  the  best  means  of  preserving  his  well-be- 
Cartesian  in  philosophy,  and  inclined  to  ing  and  extending  his  capacities. 


judge  for  himself.  His  chief  works 
De  Prineipiis  Jusli  et  Decori,and  De  Nat- 
urali  Pudorc.<5>  But  we  must  now  pass  on 
to  those  who  have  exercised  a  greater  in- 
fluence in  moral  philosophy,  Cumberland 
and  Puffendorf,  after  giving  a  short  con- 
sideration to  Spinosa. 

9.  The  moral  system,  if  so  it  may  be 
called,  of  Spinosa  has  been  developed  by 
him  in  the  fourtli  and  fifth  parts  of  his 


*  Biog.  Univ.  t  Siecle  <le  Louis  XIV. 

t  Cumberland  (in  praefatione),  De  Leg. 
§  Biog.  Univ.,  Barbeyrac's  nutes  on  Fuffendorf, 
passim. 
VOL.  II.— U  v 


thing  is  absolutely  good;  nothing,  1 

is  principally  sought  by  a  virtuous 
man  but  knowledge  ;  not  of  tii: 
nal,  which  gives  us  only  inadeq 
but  of   Cod.     Other  things  are  go; 
evil  to  us  so  f;ir  as  they  suit  our  n 
or  contradict  it ;  and  so  far  as  men  a 
reason,  they  must  agree  in  seeking  what 
is  conformable  to  their  nature.    And 
who  agree  with  us  in  living  by  reason,  are 
,  of  all  tilings,  most  suitable  t<> 
our  nature,  so  lint  the  society  of  such 
men  is  most  to  be  desired  ;  and  to  en 
that  society  by  rendering  men  virtuous. 


338 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


and  by  promoting  their  advantage  when 
they  are  so,  is  most  useful  to  ourselves. 
For  the  good  of  such  as  pursue  virtue 
may  be  enjoyed  by  all,  and  does  not  ob- 
struct our  own.  Whatever  conduces  to 
the  common  society  of  mankind,  and  pro- 
motes concord  among  them,  is  useful  to 
all ;  and  whatever  has  an  opposite  ten- 
dency is  pernicious.  The  passions  are 
sometimes  incapable  of  excess,  but  of  this 
the  only  instances  are  joy  and  cheerful- 
ness ;  more  frequently  they  become  per- 
nicious by  being  indulged ;  and  in  some 
cases,  such  as  hatred,  can  never  be  useful. 
We  should  therefore,  for  our  own  sakes, 
meet  the  hatred  and  malevolence  of  oth- 
ers with  love  and  liberality.  Spinosa 
dwells  much  on  the  preference  due  to  a 
social  above  a  solitary  life,  to  cheerful- 
ness above  austerity,  and  alludes  fre- 
quently to  the  current  theological  ethics 
with  censure. 

10.  The  fourth  part  of  the  Ethics  is  en- 
titled On  Human  Slavery,  meaning  the 
subjugation  of  the  reason  to  the  passions  ; 
the  fifth,  On  Human  Liberty,  is  designed 
to  show,  as  had  been  partly  done  in  the 
former,  how  the  mind  or  intellectual  man 
is  to  preserve  its  supremacy.  This  is  to 
be  effected,  not  by  the  extinction,  which 
is  impossible,  but  by  the  moderation  of 
the  passions  ;  and  the  secret  of  doing  this, 
according  to  Spinosa,  is  to  contemplate 
such  things  as  are  naturally  associated 
with  affections  of  no  great  violence.  We 
find  that,  when  we  look  at  things  simply 
in  themselves,  and  not  in  their  necessary 
relations,  they  affect  us  more  powerfully ; 
whence  it  may  be  inferred  that  we  shall 
weaken  the  passion  by  viewing  them  as 
parts  of  a  necessary  series.  We  pro- 
mote the  same  end  by  considering  the  ob- 
ject of  the  passion  in  many  different  re- 
lations, and,  in  general,  by  enlarging  the 
sphere  of  our  knowledge  concerning  it. 
Hence,  the  more  adequate  ideas  we  attain 
of  things  that  affect  us,  the  less  we  shall 
be  overcome  by  the  passion  they  excite. 
But,  most  of  all,  it  should  be  our  endeav- 
our to  refer  all  things  to  the  idea  of  God. 
The  more  we  understand  ourselves  and 
our  passions,  the  more  we  shall  love  God ; 
for  the  more  we  understand  anything,  the- 
more  pleasure  we  have  in  contemplating 
it ;  and  we  shall  associate  the  idea  of 
God  with  this  pleasurable  contemplation, 
which  is  the  essence  of  love.  The  love 
of  God  should  be  the  chief  employment 
of  the  mind.  But  God  has  no  passions  ; 
therefore,  he  who  desires  that  God  should 
love  him,  desires,  in  fact,  that  he  should 
(•ease  to  be  God.  And  the  more  we  be- 
lieve others  to  be  united  in  the  same  love 


of  God,  the  more  we  shall  love  him  our- 
selves. 

11.  The  great  aim  of  the  mind,  and  the 
greatest  degree  of  virtue,  is  the  knowl- 
edge of   things  in  their  essence.      This 
knowledge  is  the  perfection  of  human  na- 
ture ;  it  is  accompanied  with  the  greatest 
joy  and  contentment ;  it  leads  to  a  love 
of  God,  intellectual,  not  imaginative  ;  eter- 
nal, because  not  springing  from  passions 
that  perish  with  the  body,  being  itself  a 
portion  of  that  infinite  love  with  which 
God  intellectually  loves  himself.     In  this 
love  towards  God  our  chief  felicity  con- 
sists, which  is  not  the  reward  of  virtue, 
but  virtue  itself ;   nor  is  any  one  happy 
because  he  has  overcome  the  passions ; 
but  it  is  by  being  happy,  that  is,  by  enjoy- 
ing the  fulness  of  Divine  love,  that  he  has 
become  capable  of  overcoming  them. 

12.  These  extraordinary  effusions  con- 
firm  what  has   been   hinted    in   another 
place,  that  Spinosa,  in  the  midst  of  his 
atheism,  seemed  often  to  hover  over  the 
regions  of  mystical  theology.     This  last 
book  of  the  Ethics  speaks,  as  is  evident, 
the  very  language  of  Quietism.     In  .Spi- 
nosa himself  it  is  not  easy  to  understand 
the  meaning  ;  his  sincerity  ought  not,  I 
think,  to  be  called  in  question;  and  this 
enthusiasm  may  be  set  down  to  the  rap- 
ture of  the  imagination  expatiating  in  the 
enchanting   wilderness   of    its    creation. 
But  the  possibility  of  combining  such  a 
tone  of  contemplative  devotion  with  the 
systematic  denial  of  a  Supreme  Being,  in 
any  personal  sense,  may  put  us  on  our 
guard  against  the  tendency  of  mysticism, 
which  may  again,  as  it  has  frequently,  de- 
generate into  a  similar  chaos. 

13.  The  science  of  ethics,  in  the  third 
quarter  of  the  seventeenth  cen-  Cumberland's 
tury,  seemed  to  be  cultivated  by  i|e  Legibus 
three  very  divergent  schools  :  N 

by  that  of  the  theologians,  who  went  no 
farther  than  revelation,  or,  at  least,  than 
the  positive  law  of  God,  for  moral  dis- 
tinctions ;  by  that  of  the  Platonic  philos- 
ophers, who  sought  them  in  eternal  and 
intrinsic  relations ;  and  that  of  Hobbes 
and  Spinosa,  who  reduced  them  all  to 
selfish  prudence.  A  fourth  theory,  which, 
in  some  of  its  modifications,  has  greatly 
prevailed  in  the  last  two  centuries,  may  be 
referred  to  Kichard  Cumberland,  after- 
ward bishop  of  Peterborough.  His  fa- 
mous work,  De  Legibus  Natnnc  Disquisi- 
tio  Philosophica,  was  published  in  1672. 
It  is  contained  in  nine  chapters,  besides 
the  preface  or  prolegomena. 

14.  Cumberland  begins  by  mentioning 
Grotius,  Selden,  and  one  or  two  more  who 
have   investigated  the   laws  of  nature  u 


FROM  1650  TO  1700. 


339 


Analysis  of  posteriori,  that  is,  by  the  testimo- 
proiegom-  ny  of  authors  and  the  consent 
eua.  of  nations.  But  as  some  objec- 

tions may  be  started  against  this  mode  of 
proof,  which,  though  he  does  not  hold  them 
to  be  valid,  are  likely  to  have  some  effect, 
he  prefers  another  line  of  demonstration, 
deducing  the  laws  of  nature,  as  effects, 
from  their  real  causes  in  the  constitution 
of  nature  itself.  The  Platonic  theory  of 
innate  moral  ideas,  sufficient  to  establish 
natural  law,  he  does  not  admit.  "  For 
myself,  at  least,  I  may  say  that  I  have  not 
been  so  fortunate  as  to  arrive  at  the 
knowledge  of  this  law  by  so  compendious 
a  road."  He  deems  it,  therefore,  necessa- 
ry to  begin  with  what  we  learn  by  daily 
use  and  experience,  preserving  nothing 
but  the  physical  laws  of  motion  shown  by 
mathematicians,  and  the  derivation  of  all 
their  operations  from  the  will  of  a  First 
Cause. 

15.  By  diligent  observation  of  all  prop- 
ositions which  can  be  justly  reckoned  gen- 
eral moral  laws  of  nature,  he  finds  that 
they  may  be  reduced  to  one,  the  pursuit 
of  the  common  good  of  all  rational  agents, 
which  tends  to  our  own  good  as  part  of 
the  whole ;  as  its  opposite  tends  not  only 
to  the  misery  of  the  whole  system,  but  to 
our  own.*     This  tendency,  he  takes  care 
to  tell  us,  though  he  uses  the  present  tense 
(c.onducit),  has  respect  to  the  most  remote 
consequences,  and  is  so   understood   by 
him.     The  means  which  serve  to  this  end, 
the  general  good,  may  be  treated  as  theo- 
rems in  a  geometrical  method. f     Cumber- 
land, as  we  have  seen  in   Spinosa,  was 
captivated  by  the  apparent  security  of  this 
road  to  truth. 

16.  This  scheme,  he  observes,  may  at 
first  sight  want  the  two  requisites  of  a 
law,  a   legislator  and   a  sanction.      But 
whatever  is  naturally  assented  to  by  our 
minds  must  spring  from  the  author  of  na- 
ture.    God  is  proved  to  be  the  author  of 
every  proposition  which  is  proved  to  be 
true  by  the  constitution  of  nature,  which 
has  him  for  its  author.{     Nor  is  a  sanc- 
tion wanting  in  the  rewards,  that  is,  the 
happiness  which  attends  the  observance  i 
of  the  law  of  nature,  and  in  the  opposite  | 
effects  of  its  neglect ;  and  in  a  lax  sense,  | 
though  not  that  of  the  jurists,  reward  as  } 
well  as  punishment  may  be  included  in  the 
word  sanction. §    But  benevolence,  that  is, 
love  and  desire  of  good  towards  all  ration- 
al beings,  includes  piety  towards  God,  the 
greatest  of -them  all,  as  well  as  humanity.]) 
Cumberland  altogether  abstains  from  ar- 


*  Prolegomena,  sect.  9. 

t  Seer   13.  $  Sect.  14. 


t  Sect.  *12. 
II  Sect.  15. 


guments  founded  on  revelation,  and  is, 
perhaps,  the  first  writer  on  natural  law' 
who  has  done  so,  for  they  may  even  be 
found  in  Hobbes.  And  I  think  that  he 
may  be  reckoned  the  founder  of  what  is 
awkwardly  and  invidiously  called  the  util- 
itarian school ;  for,  though  similar  expres- 
sions about  the  common  good  may  some- 
times be  found  in  the  ancients,  it  does  not 
seem  to  have  been  the  basis  of  any  eth- 
ical system. 

17.  This  common  good,  not  any  minute 
particle  of  it,  as  the  benefit  of  a  single 
mantis  the  great  end  of  the  legislator  and 
of  him  who  obeys  his  will.     And   such 
human  actions  as  by  their  natural  tenden- 
cy promote  the   common  good   may  be 
called   naturally  good,  more  than  those 
which  tend  only  to  the  good  of  any  one 
man,  by  how  much  the  whole  is  greater 
than  this  small  part.     And  whatever  is 
directed  in  the  shortest  way  to  this  end 
may  be  called  right,  as  a  right  line  is  the 
shortest  of  all.     And  as  the  whole  system 
of  the  universe,  when  all  things  are  ar- 
ranged  so   as   to   produce   happiness,  is 
beautiful,  being  aptly  disposed  to  its  end, 
which  is  the  definition  of  beauty,  so  par- 
ticular actions  contributing  to  this  general 
harmony  may  be  called  beautiful  and  be- 
coming.* 

18.  Cumberland  acutely  remarks,  in  an- 
swer to  the  objection  to  the  practice  of 
virtue  from  the  evils  which  fall  on  good 
men,  and  the  success  of  the  wicked,  that 
no  good  or  evil  is  to  be  considered,  in  this 
point  of  view,  which  arises  from  mere  ne- 
cessity or  external  causes,  and  not  from 
our  virtue  or  vice  itself.     He  then  shows 
that  a  regard  for  piety  and  peace,  for  mu- 
tual intercourse,  and  civil   and  domestic 
polity,  tends   to  the  happiness  of  every 
one ;  and,  in  reckoning  the  good  conse- 
quences of  virtuous  behaviour,  we  are  not 
only  to  estimate  the  pleasure  intimately 
connected  with  it,  which  the  love  of  God 
and  of  good  men  produces,  but  the  contin- 
gent benefits  we  obtain  by  civil  society, 
which    we    promote    by   such    conduct.! 
And  we  see  that  in  all  nations  there  is 
some  regard  to  good  faith  and  the  distri- 
bution of  property,  some  respect  to  the 
obligation  of  oaths,  some  attachments  to 
relations  and  friends.     All  men  therefore 
acknowledge,  and  to  a  certain  extent  per- 
form, those  things  which  really  tend  to 
the   common  good.     And,  though  crime 
and  violence  sometimes  prevail,  yet  these 
are   like  diseases   in  the  body  which  it 
shakes  off;  or  if,  like  them,  they  prove 
sometimes  mortal  to  a  single  community, 


Sect.  16. 


t  Sect.  20. 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


yet  human  society  is  immortal;  and  the 
conservative  principles  of  common  good 
have  in  the  end  far  more  efficacy  than 
those  which  dissolve  and  destroy  states. 

19.  We  may  reckon  the  happiness  con- 
sequent on  virtue  as  a  true  sanction  of 
natural  law  annexed  to  it  by  its  author, 
and  thus  fulfilling  the  necessary  conditions 
of  ils  definition.     And  though  some  have 
laid  less  stress  on  these   sanctions,  and 
deemed  virtue  its  own  reward,  and  grati- 
tude to  God  and  man  its  best  motive,  yet 
the  consent  of  nations  and  common  expe- 
rience show  us  that,  the  observance  of  the 
first  end.  which  is  the  common  good*  will 
not  be  maintained  without  remuneration 
or  penal  consequences. 

20.  By  this  single  principle  of  common 
good,  we  signify  the  method   of  natural 
law,  and  arrange  its  secondary  precepts  in 
such  subordination  as  best  conduces  to  the 
general  end.     Hence  moral  rules  give  way 
in  particular  cases,  when  they  come  in 
collision  with  others  of  more  extensive 
importance.     For  all  ideas  of  right  or  vir- 
tue imply  a  relation  to  the  system  and  na- 
ture of  all  rational  beings.     And  the  prin- 
ciples thus  deduced  as  to  moral  conduct 
are  generally  applicable  to  political  socie- 
ties, which,  in  their  two  leading  institu- 
tions, the  division  of  property  and  the  co- 
ercive power  of  the  magistrate,  follow  the 
steps  of  natural  law,  and  adopt  these  rules 
of  polity,  because  they  perceive  them  to 
promote  the  common  weal. 

21.  From  all  intermixture  of  scriptural 
authority  Cumberland  proposes  to  abstain, 
building  only  on  reason  and  experience ; 
since  we  believe  the  Scriptures  to  proceed 
from  God,  because  they  illustrate  and  pro- 
mote the  law  of  nature.     He  seems  to 
have  been  the  first  Christian  writer  who 
sought   to    establish    systematically   the 
principles  of  moral  right  independently  of 
revelation.     They  are,  indeed,  taken  for 
granted  by  many,  especially  those  who 
adopted   the    Platonic   language ;    or  the 
schoolmen  may  have  demonstrated  them 
by  arguments  derived   from  reason,  but 
seldom,  if  ever,  without  some  collateral 
reference   to   theological    authority.      In 
this  respect,  therefore,  Cumberland  may 
be  deemed  to  make  an  epoch  in  the  histo- 
ry of  ethical  philosophy,  though  Puffen- 
dorf,  whose  work  was  published  the  same 
year,  may  have  nearly  equal  claims  to  it. 
If  we  compare  the  Treatise  on  the  Laws 
of  Nature  with  the  Ductor  Dubitantium  of 
Taylor,  written  a  very  few  years  before, 
we  shall  find  ourselves  in  a  new  world  of 
moral    reasoning.      The    schoolmen   and 
fathers,  the  canonists  and  casuists,  have 
vanished,  like  ghosts,  at  the  first  daylight ; 


the  continual  appeal  is  to  experience,  and 
never  to  authority  ;  or,  if  authority  can  be 
said  to  appear  at  all  in  the  pages  of  Cum- 
berland, it  is  that  of  the  great  apostles  of 
experimental  philosophy,  Descartes  or 
Huygens,  or  Harvey  or  Willis.  His  mind, 
liberal  and  comprehensive,  as  well  as 
acute,  had  been  forcibly  impressed  with 
the  discoveries  of  his  own  age,  both  in 
mathematical  science  and  in  what  is  now 
more  strictly  called  physiology.  From 
this  armory  he  chose  his  weapons,  and 
employed  them,  in  some  instances,  with 
great  sagacity  and  depth  of  thought. 
From  the  brilliant  success,  also,  of  the 
modern  analysis,  as  well  as  from  the  nat- 
ural prejudice  in  favour  of  a  geometrical 
method,  which  arises  from  the  acknowl- 
edged superiority  of  that  science  in  the 
determination  of  its  proper  truths,  he  was 
led  to  expect  more  from  the  use  of  simi- 
lar processes  in  moral  reasoning  than  we 
have  found  justified  by  experience.  And 
this  analogy  had  probably  some  effect  on 
one  of  the  chief  errors  of  his  ethical  sys- 
j  tern,  the  reduction,  at  least  in  theory,  of 
j  the  morality  of  actions  to  definite  calcula- 
tion. 

22.  The   prolegomena  or  preface    to 
Cumberland's   treatise,  contains  His  theory 
that    statement   of   his    system  expanded 
with  which  we  have  been  hith-  aflerwarj- 
erto  concerned,  and  which  the  whole  vol- 
ume does  but  expand.      His  manner  of 
reasoning  is  diffuse,  abounding  in  repeti- 
tions, and   often    excursive :    we   cannot 
avoid  perceiving  that  he  labours  long  on 
propositions  which  no   adversary  would 
dispute,  or  on  which  the  dispute  could  be 
little  else  than  one  of  verbal  definition. 
This,  however,  is   almost   the    universal 
failing  of  preceding  philosophers,  and  was 

|  only  put  an  end  to,  if  it  can  be  said  yet  to 
!  have  ceased,  by  the  sharper  logic  of  con- 
troversy, which  a  more  general  regard  to 
(  metaphysical  inquiries,  and  a  juster  sense 
1  of  the  value  of  words,  brought  into  use. 

23.  The  question  between  Cumberland 
and  his  adversaries,  that  is,  the  school  of 

I  Hobbes.  is  stated  to  be,  whether  certain 
:  propositions  of  immutable  truth,  directing 
|  the  voluntary  actions  of  men  in  choosing 
'  good  and  avoiding  evil,  and  imposing  an 
j  obligation  upon  them  independently  of  civ- 
:  il  laws,  are  necessarily  suggested  to  the 
|  mind  by  the  nature  of  things  and  by  that 
of  mankind.     And  the  affirmative  of  this 
question  he  undertakes  to  prove  from  a 
consideration  of  the  nature  of  both  ;  from 
which  many  particular  rules  might  be  de- 
duced, but,  above  all,  that  which  compre- 
hends all  the  rest,  and  is  the  basis  of  his 
theory;  namely,  that  the  greatest  possi 


FROM  1650  TO  1700. 


ble  benevolence  (not  a  mere  languid  de- 
sire, but  an  energetic  principle)  of  every 
rational  agent  towards  all  the  rest  consti- 
tutes the  happiest  condition  of  each  and 
of  all,  so  far  as  depends  on  their  own 
power,  and  is  necessarily  required,  for 
their  greatest  happiness  ;  whence  the 
common  jjood  is  the  supreme  law.  That 
God  is  the  author  of  this  law  appears  evi- 
dent from  his  being  the  author  of  all  na- 
ture, and  of  all  the  physical  laws,  accord- 
ing to  which  impressions  are  made  on  our 
minds. 

24.  It  is  easy  to  observe,  by  daily  expe- 
rience, that  we  have  the  power  of  doing 
good  to  others,  and  that  no  men  are  so 
happy  or  so  secure  as  they  who  most  ex- 
ert this.     And  this  may  be  proved  syn- 
thetically, and  in  that  more  rigorous  meth- 
od which  he  affects,  though  it  now  and 
then  leads  the  reader  away  from  the  sim- 
plest argument  by  considering  our  own 
faculties  of  speech  and  language,  the  ca- 
pacities of  the  hand  and  countenance,  the 
skill  we  possess  in  sciences  and  in  useful 
arts  ;  all  of  which  conduce  to  the  social 
life  of  mankind,  and  to  their  mutual  co- 
operation  and    benefit.     Whatever   pre- 
serves and  perfects   the  nature  of  any- 
thing, that  is  to  be  called  good,  and  the 
opposite  evil;  so  that  Hobbes  has  crudely 
asserted  good  to  respect  only  the  agent 
desiring  it,  and,  consequently,  to  be  varia- 
ble.    In  this  it  will  be  seen  that  the  dis- 
pute is  chiefly  verbal. 

25.  Two  corollaries  of  great  importance 
in  the  theory  of  ethics  spring  from  a  con- 
sideration of  our  physical  powers.     The 
first  is,  that,  inasmuch  as  they  are  limited 
by  their  nature,  we  should  never  seek  to 
transgress  their  bounds,  but  distinguish, 
as  the  Stoics  did,  things  within  our  reach, 
TO,  e<j>'  TI/HLV,  from  those  beyond  it,  ra  OVK  efi 
r/^tt-,  thus  relieving  our  minds  from  anx- 
ious passions,  and  turning  them   to    the 
prudent  use  of  the  means  assigned  to  us. 
The   other  is   one   which   applies   more 
closely  to  his  general  principle  of  morals  ; 
that  as  all  we  can  do  in  respect  of  others, 
and  all  the  enjoyment  we  or  they  can 
have  of  particular  things,  is   limited   to 
certain  persons,  as  well  as  in  space  and 
time,  we  perceive  the  necessity  of  distri- 
bution,  both   as   to    things,   from    which 
spring  the  rights  of  property,  and  as  to 
persons,  by  which  our  benevolence,  though 
a  general  rule  in  itself,  is  practically  di- 
rected towards  individuals.     For  the  con- 
servation of  an  aggregate  whole  is  the 
same  as  that  of  its  divided  parts,  that  is, 
of  single  persons,  which  requires  a  dis- 
tributive exercise  of  the  powers  of  each. 
Hence  property  and  dominion,  or  meum 


341 

and  tuum,  in  the  most  general  sense,  are 
consequences  from  the  general  law  of  na- 
ture. Without  a  support  from  that  law, 
according  to  Cumberland,  without  a  posi- 
tive tendency  to  the  good  of  all  rational 
agents,  we  should  have  no  right,  even  to 
things  necessary  for  our  preservation ; 
nor  have  we  that  right  if  a  greater  evil 
would  be  incurred  by  our  preservation 
than  by  our  destruction.  It  may  be  add- 
ed, as  a  more  universal  reflection,  that  as 
all  we  see  in  nature  is  so  framed  as  to 
persevere  in  its  appointed  state,  and  as 
the  human  body  is  endowed  with  the 
power  of  throwing  oft"  whatever  is  nox- 
ious and  threatens  the  integrity  of  its 
condition,  we  may  judge  from  this  that 
the  conservation  of  mankind  in  its  best 
state  must  be  the  design  of  nature,  and 
that  their  own  voluntary  actions,  condu- 
cing to  that  end,  must  be  such  as  the  Au- 
thor of  nature  commands  and  approves. 

26.  Cumberland  next  endeavours,  by  an 
enlarged  analysis  of  the  mental  and  bodily 
structure  of  mankind,  to  evince  their  apti- 
tude for  the  social  virtues,  that  is,  for  the 
general  benevolence  which  is  the  primary 
law  of  nature.     We  have  the  power  of 
knowing   these   by  our   rational   faculty, 
which  is  the  judge  of  right   and  wrong, 
that  is,  of  what  is  conformable  to  the  great 
law  ;   and  by-  the  other  faculties  of  the 
mind,  as  well  as  by  the  use  of  language, 
we  generalize  and  reduce  to  propositions 
the  determinations  of  reason.     We  have 
also  the  power  of  comparison,  and  of  per- 
ceiving analogies,  by  means  of  which  we 
estimate  degrees  of  good.     And  if  we  are 
careful  to  guard  against  deciding  without 
clearand  adequate  apprehensionis  of  things, 
our  reason  will  not  mislead  us.     The  ob- 
servance of  something  like  this  general 
law  of  nature  by  inferior  animals,  which 
rarely,  as   Cumberland    supposes,  attack 
those  of  the  same  species,  and  in  certain 
instances  live  together,  as  if  by  a  compact 
for  mutual  aid  ;  the  peculiar  contrivances 
in  the  human  body,  which  seem  designed 
for  the  maintenance  of  society;  the  pos- 
session of  speech,  the  pathognomic  coun- 
tenance, the  efficiency  of  the  hand,  a  lon- 
gevity beyond  the  lower  animals,  the  du- 
ration of  the  sexual  appetite  throughout 
the  year,  with  several  other  ar<rimienis 
derived  from  anatomy,  are  urged  through- 
out this  chapter  against  the  unsocial  the- 
ory of  Hobbes. 

27.  Natural  good  is  defined  by  ( 'umber- 
land  with  more  latitude  than  has  been  used 
by  Paley  and  by  those  of  a  later  school, 
who  confine  it  to  happiness  or  pleasurable. 
perception.      Whatever  conduces   to  the 
preservation  of  an  intelligent  being,  or  to 


342 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


the  perfection  of  his  powers,  he  accounts 
to  be  good,  without  regard  to  enjoyment. 
And  for  this  he  appeals  to  experience, 
since  we  desire  existence,  as  well  as  the 
extension  of  our  powers  of  action,  for 
their  own  sakes.  It  is  of  great  importance 
to  acquire  a  clear  notion  of  what  is  truly 
good,  that  is,  of  what  serves  most  to  the 
happiness  and  perfection  of  every  one  ; 
since  all  the  secondary  laws  of  nature, 
that  is,  the  rules  of  particular  virtues,  de- 
rive their  authority  from  this  effect.  These 
rules  may  be  compared  one  with  another 
as  to  the  probability,  as  well  as  the  value 
of  their  effects  upon  the  general  good  ;  and 
he  anticipates  greater  advantage'  from  the 
employment  of  mathematical  reasoning, 
and  even  analytical  forms  in  moral  philos- 
ophy, than  the  different  nature  of  the  sub- 
jects would  justify,  even  if  the  fundament- 
al principle  of  converting  the  theory  of 
ethics  into  calculation  could  be  allowed.* 
28  A  law  of  nature,  meaning  one  sub- 
ordinate to  the  great  principle  of  benevo- 
lence, is  defined  by  Cumberland  to  be  a 
proposition  manifested  by  the  nature  of 
things  to  the  mind  according  to  the  will 
of  the  First  Cause,  and  pointing  out  an  ac- 
tion tending  to  the  good  of  rational  beings, 
from  the  performance  of  which  an  ade- 
quate reward,  or  from  the  neglect  of  which 
a  punishment,  will  ensue  by  the  nature  of 
such  rational  beings.  Every  part  of  this 
definition  he  proves  with  exceeding  pro- 
lixity in  the  longest  chapter,  namely,  the 
fifth,  of  his  treatise  ;  but  we  have  already 
seen  the  foundations  of  his  theory  upon 
which  it  rests.  It  will  be  evident  to  the 
reader  of  this  chapter  that  both  Butler  and 
Paley  have  been  largely  indebted  to  Cum- 
berland, f  Natural  obligation  he  defines 
thus  :  No  other  necessity  determines  the 
will  to  act  than  that  of  avoiding  evil  and 
of  seeking  good,  so  far  as  appears  to  be  in 
our  power.!  Moral  obligation  is  more 
limited,  and  is  differently  defined. §  But 
the  main  point,  as  he  justly  observes,  of 
the  controversy  is  the  connexion  between 
the  tendency  of  each  man's  actions,  taking 
them  collectively  through  his  life,  to  the 


*  Ka  quippe  tola  (disciplina  morum)  versatur  in 
aestimandis  rationibus  virium  humanarum  ad  corn 
mune  bonum  er.tium  rationalium  quicquam  facien- 
tium,  q'ia;  quiuern  variant  in  omni  casuum  possihil- 
ium  varie'i'x.-.. — Cap.  ii ,  sect.  9.  The  same  is  laid 
down  in  several  other  passages.  By  rationibus  we 
must  understand  ratios ;  which  brings  out  the  cal- 
culating theory  in  the  strongest  light. 

t  A  great  part  of  the  second  and  third  chapters 
of  Butler's  Analogy  will  be  found  in  Cumberland. — 
See  cap.  5,  sect  22. 

J  ft  on  alia  necessitas  voluntatem  ad  agendum 
determmat,  quam  malum  in  quantum  tale  esse  nobis 
constat  fugiendi  bonumque  quatenus  nobis  apparet 
prosequendi. — Cap.  5,  sect.  7.  §  Sect.  27. 


good  of  the  whole,  and  that  to  his  own 
greatest  happiness  and  perfection.  This 
he  undertakes  to  show,  premising  that  it 
is  twofold  ;  consisting  immediately  in  the 
pleasure  attached  to  virtue,  and,  ultimate 
ly,  in  the  rewards  it  obtains  from  God  and 
from  man.  God,  as  a  rational  being,  can- 
not be  supposed  to  act  without  an  end,  or 
to  have  a  greater  end  than  the  general 
good ;  that  is,  the  happiness  and  perfec- 
tion of  his  creatures.*  And  his  will  may 
not  only  be  shown  a  priori,  by  the  consid- 
eration of  his  essence  and  attributes,  but 
by  the  effects  of  virtue  and  vice  in  the  or- 
der of  nature  which  he  has  established. 
The  rewards  and  punishments  which  fol- 
low at  the  hands  of  men  are  equally  ob- 
vious ;  and  whether  we  regard  men  as 
God's  instruments  or  as  voluntary  agents, 
demonstrate  that  virtue  is  the  highest  pru- 
dence. These  arguments  are  urged  rath- 
er tediously,  and  in  such  a  manner  as  to 
encounter  none  of  the  difficulties  which  it 
is  desirable  to  overcome. 

2'J.  Two  objections  might  be  alleged 
against  this  kind  of  proof:  that  the  re- 
wards and  punishments  of  moral  actions 
are  too  uncertain  .to  be  accounted  clear 
proofs  of  the  will  of  God,  and.  consequent- 
ly, of  their  natural  obligation,  and  that  by 
laying  so  much  stress  upon  them  we  make 
private  happiness  the  measure  of  good. 
These  he  endeavours  to  repel.  The  con- 
tingency of  a  future  consequence  has  a 
determinate  value,  which,  if  it  more  than 
compensates  for  good  or  evil,  the  evil  or 
good  of  a  present  action  ought  to  be  deem- 
ed a  proof  given  by  the  author  of  nature 
that  reward  or  punishment  are  annexed 
to  the  action,  as  much  as  if  they  were  its 
necessary  consequences.!  This  argument, 
perhaps  sophistical,  is  an  instance  of  the 
calculating  method  affected  by  Cumber- 
land, and  which  we  may  presume,  frpm 
the  then  recent  application  of  analysis  to 
probability,  he  was  the  first  to  adopt  on 
such  an  occasion.  Paley  is  sometimes 
fond  of  a  similar  process.  But  after  these 
mathematical  reasonings,  he  dwells,  as  be- 
fore, on  the  beneficial  effects  of  virtue,  and 
concludes  that  many  of  them  are  so  uni- 
form as  to  leave  no  doubt  as  to  the  inten- 
tion of  the  Creator.  Against  the  charge 
of  postponing  the  public  good  to  that  of 
the  agent,  he  protests  that  it  is  wholly 
contrary  to  his  principle,  which  permits  no 
one  to  preserve  his  life,  or  what  is  neces- 
sary for  it,  at  the  expense  of  a  greater 
good  to  the  whole. |  But  his  explication 


*   Sect.  19.  t  Sect.  37. 

J  Sua  cujusque  felicitas  est  pars  valde  exigua 
finis  illius.  quem  vir  vere  rationalis  prosequitur,  et 
ad  totum  finem,  scilicet  commune  bonum  cui  a  nat- 


FROM  1650  TO  1700. 


343 


01  tne  question  ends  in  repeating  that  no  i  difficulties  arise,  Cumberland  contends  that 
single  man's  greatest  felicity  can,  by  the  j  the  general  good  is  the  only  measure  by 


nature  of  things,  be  inconsistent  with  that 
of  all  ;  and  that  every  such  hypothesis  is 
to  be  rejected  as  an  impossible  condition 
of  the  problem.  It  seems  doubtful  wheth- 
er Cumberland  uses  always  the  same  lan- 
guage on  the  question  whether  private 
happiness  is  the  final  motive  of  action, 
which  in  this  part  of  the  chapter  he  whol- 
ly denies. 

30.  From  the  establishment  of  this  pri- 
mary law  of  universal  benevolence  Cum- 
berland next  deduces  the  chief  secondary 
principles,  which  are  commonly  called  the 
moral  virtues.  And  among  these  he  gives 
the  first  place  to  justice,  which  he  seems 
to  consider,  by  too  lax  a  use  of  terms,  or 
too  imperfect  an  analogy,  as  comprehend- 
ing the  social  duties  of  liberality,  courtesy, 
and  domestic  affection.  The  right  of  prop- 
erty, which  is  the  foundation  of  justice, 
he  rests  entirely  on  its  necessity  for  the 
common  good ;  whatever  is  required  for 
that  prime  end  of  moral  action  being  itself 
obligatory  on  moral  agents,  they  are  bound 
to  establish  and  to  maintain  separate 
rights.  And  all  right  so  wholly  depends 
en  this  instrumentality  to  good,  that  the 
r  i:htful  sovereignty  of  God  over  his  crea- 
tures is  not  founded  on  that  relation  he 
bears  to  them,  much  less  on  his  mere 
power,  but  on  his  wisdom  and  goodness, 
through  which  his  omnipotence  works 
only  for  their  happiness.  But  this  happi- 
ness can  only  be  attained  by  means  of  an 
absolute  right  over  them  in  their  Maker, 
which  is  therefore  to  be  reckoned  a  natu- 
ral law. 

31.  The  good  of  all  rational  beings  is  a 
complex  whole,  being  nothing  but  the  ag- 
gregate of  good  enjoyed  by  each.  We 
can  only  act  in  our  proper  spheres,  labour- 
ing to  do  good.  But  this  labour  will  be 
fruitless,  or,  rather,  mischievous,  if  we  do 
not  keep  in  mind  the  higher  gradations 
which  terminate  in  universal  benevolence. 
No  man  must  seek  his  own  advantage 
otherwise  than  that  of  his  family  permits  ; 
or  provide  for  his  family  to  the  detriment 
of  his  country  ;  or  promote  the  good  of  his 
country  at  the  expense  of  mankind ;  or 
serve  mankind,  if  it  were  possible,  with- 
out regard  to  the  majesty  of  God.*  It  is 
indeed  sufficient  that  the  mind  should  ac- 
knowledge and  recollect  this  principle  of 
conduct,  without  having  it  present  on 
every  single  occasion.  But,  where  moral 


Remarks 


ura  seu  a  Deo  intertexitur,  earn  taritiim  habct  ratio- 
nem  qnam  habet  unus  homo  ad  a?gregaMim  ex  om- 
nibus rationalibus,  quse  minor  est  quam  habet  unica 
arenula  ad  molem  universi  corpons.— Sect.  23  arid 


sect.  28. 


Cap.  vni.,  sect.  14,  15. 


--  by 

which  we  are  to  determine  the  lawfulness 
of  actions,  or  the  preference  due  to  one 
above  another. 

32.  In  conclusion,  lie  passes  to  political 
authority,  deriving  it  from  the  same  prin- 
ciple, and  comments  with  severity  ami 
success,  though  in  the  verbose  style  usu;;l 
to  him,  on  the  system  of  Hobbes.  It  is, 
however,  worthy  of  remark,  that  he  not 
only  peremptorily  declares  the  irresponsi- 
bility of  the  supreme  magistrate  in  all 
cases,  but  seems  to  give  him  a  more  arbi- 
trary latitude  in  the  choice  of  measures, 
so  long  'as  he  does  not  violate  the  chief 
negative  precepts  of  the. decalogue,  than  is 
consistent  with  his  own  fundamental  rule 
of  always  seeking  the  greatest  good,  lie 
endeavours  to  throw  upon  Hobbes.  as  \\as 
not  uncommon  with  the  latter's  theologi- 
cal opponents,  the  imputation  of  encoura- 
ging rebellion  while  he  seemed  to  support 
absolute  power ;  and  observes,  with  full  as 
much  truth,  that  if  kings  are  bound  by  no 
natural  law,  the  reason  for  their  institu- 
tion, namely,  the  security  of  mankind,  as- 
signed by  the  author  of  the  Leviathan,  falls 
to  the  ground. 

33.  I  have  gone  rather  at  length  into  a 
kind  of  analysis  of  this  treatise, 
because  it  is  now  very  little  read, 
and  yet  was  of  great  importance  ri-iam's 
in  the  annals  of  ethical  philoso-  l[]CUTy- 
phy.  It  was,  if  not  a  text-book  in  either 
of  our  universities,  concerning  which  I  am 
not  confident,  the  basis  of  the  system 
therein  taught,  and  of  the  bonks  which 
have  had  most  influence  in  this  country. 
Hutcheson,  Law,  Paley,  Priestley.  l!en- 
tham,  belong — no  doubt,  some  nfthem  un- 
consciously— to  the  school  founded  by 
Cumberland.  Hutcheson  adopted  the  prin- 
ciple of  general  benevolence  as  the  stand- 
ard of  virtue  ;  but,  by  limiting  the  defini- 
tion of  good  to  happiness  alone,  he  sim- 
plified the  scheme  of  Cumberland,  who 
had  included  conservation  and  emaige- 
ment  of  capacity  in  its  definition,  lie 
rejected  also  what  encumbers  the  whole 
system  of  his  predecessor,  the  including 
the  Supreme  Being  among  those  rational 
agents  whose  yood  we  are  bound  to  pro- 
mote. The  schoolmen,  as  well  as  those 
whom  they  followed,  deeming  it  necessary 
to  predicate  metaphysical  infinity  of  all 
the  divine  attributes,  reckoned  unalterable 
beatitude  in  the  number.  I'pon  such  a 
subject  no  wise  man  would  like  to  dogma- 
tize. The  difficulties  on  both  sides  are 
very  great,  and  perhaps  among  the  most 
intricate  to  which  the  momentous  problem 
concerning  the  cause  of  evil  has  given 


344 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


rise.  Cumberland,  whose  mind  does  not 
seem  to  have  been  much  framed  to  wrestle 
with  mysteries,  evades,  in  his  lax  ver- 
bosity, what  must  perplex  his  readers. 

34.  In  establishing  the  will  of  a  supreme 
lawgiver  as  essential  to  the  law  of  nature, 
he  is  followed  by  the  Bishop  of  Carlisle 
and  Paley,  as  well  as  by  the  majority  of 
English  moralists  in  the  eighteenth  cen- 
tury.    But,  while  Paley  deems  the  recog- 
nition of  a  future  state  so  essential  that 
he  even  includes  in  the  definition  of  virtue 
that  it  is  performed  "  for  the  sake  of  ever- 
lasting happiness,"  Cumberland  not  only 
omits  this  erroneous  and  almost,  paradox 
ical  condition,  but  very  slightly   alludes 
to  another  life,  though  he  thinks  it  prob- 
able from  the  stings  of  conscience  apd  on 
other  grounds;   resting  the  whole  argu- 
ment on  the  certain  consequences  of  vir- 
tue and  vice  in  the  present,  but  guarding 
justly   against  the  supposition  that  any 
difference  of  happiness  in  moral  agents 
can  affect  the  immediate  question,  except 
such  as  is  the  mere  result  of  their  own 
behaviour.     If  any  one  had  urged,  like 
Paley,  that,  without  taking  a  future  state 
into  consideration,  the  result  of  calculating 
our  own  advantage  will  either  not  always 
be  in  favour  of  virtue,  or,  in  consequence 
of  the  violence  of  passion,  will  not  always 
seem  so,  Cumberland  would  probably  have 
denied  the  former  alternative,  and  replied 
to  the  other  that  we  can  only  prove  the 
truth  of  our  theorems  in  moral  philosophy, 
and  cannot  compel  men  to  adopt  them. 

35.  Sir  James  Mackintosh,  whose  notice 
oT  Cumberland  is  rather  too  superficial, 
and  hardly  recognises  his   influence  on 
philosophy,  observes  that  "  the  forms  of 
scholastic  argument  serve  more  to  encum- 
ber his  style  than  to  ensure  his  exact- 
ness."*   There  is  not,  however,  much  of 
scholastic  form  in  the  treatise  on  the  Laws 
of  Nature,  and  this  is  expressly  disclaimed 
in  the  Preface.     But  he  has,  as  we  have 

>.  intimated,  a  great  deal  too  much  of  a 
mat-uematical  line  of  argument,  which  nev- 
er illustrates  his  meaning,  and  has  some- 
times misled  his  judgment.  We  owe  prob- 
ably to  his  fondness  for  this  specious  il- 
lusion— I  mean,  the  application  of  reason- 
ings upon  quantity  to  moral  subjects — the 
dangerous  sophism  that  a  direct  calcula- 
tion of  the  highest  good,  and  that  not  rel- 
ative to  particulars,  but  to  all  rational 
beings,  is  the  measure  of  virtuous  actions, 
the  test  by  which  we  are  to  try  our  own 
conduct  and  that  of  others.  And  the  in- 
tervention of  general  rales,  by  which  Paley 
endeavoured  to  dilute  and  render  palatable 


this  calculating  scheme  of  utility,  seem* 
no  more  to  have  occurred  to  Cumberland 
than  it  was  adopted  by  Bentham. 

36.  Thus,  as  Taylors  Ductor  Dubitan- 
tium  is  nearly  the  last  of  a  declining  school, 
Cumberland's  Law  of  Nature  may  be  just- 
ly considered  as  the  herald,  especially  in 
England,  of  a  new  ethical  philosophy  ;  oi 
which  the  main  characteristics  were,  first, 
that  it  stood  complete  in  itself  without  the 
aid  of  revelation ;   secondly,  that  it  ap- 
pealed to  no  authority  of  earlier  writers 
whatever,  though  it  sometimes  used  them 
in  illustration ;  thirdly,  that  it  availed  it- 
self of  observation  and  experience,  alle- 
ging them  generally,  but  abstaining  from 
particular  instances  of  either,  and  making, 
above  all,  no  display  of  erudition ;    and, 
fourthly,  that  it  entered  very  little  upon 
casuistry,  leaving  the  application  of  prin- 
ciples to  the  reader. 

37.  In  the  same  year,  1672,  a  work  still 
more    generally    distinguished 

than  that  of  Cumberland  was  ESwrfN? 
published  at  Lund,  in  Sweden,  ture  and  Na- 
by  Samuel  Puffendorf,  a  Saxon  llons- 
by  birth,  who  filled  the  chair  of  moral 
philosophy  in  that  recently-founded  uni- 
versity. This  large  treatise  On  the  Law 
of  Nature  and  Nations,  in  eight  books, 
was  abridged  by  the  author,  but  not  with- 
out some  variations,  in  one  perhaps  more 
useful,  On  the  Duties  of  a  Man  and  a 
Citizen.  Both  have  been  translated  into 
French  and  English  ;  both  were  long  stud- 
ied in  the  foreign  universities,  and  even  in 
our  own.  Puffendorf  has  been,  perhaps, 
in  moral  philosophy,  of  greater  authority 
than  Grotius,  with  whom  he  is  frequently 
named  in  conjunction ;  but  this  is  not  the 
case  in  international  jurisprudence. 

38.  Puffendorf,  after  a  very  diffuse  and 
technical  chapter  on  moral  beings  Anaiysisof 
or  modes,  proceeds  to  assert  a  this  work- 
demonstrative  certainty  in  moral  science, 
but  seems  not   to  maintain  an  inherent 
right  and  wrong  in  actions  antecedent  to 
all  law,  referring  the  rule  of  morality  al- 
together to  the  Divine  appointment.     He 
ends,  however,  by  admitting  that  man's 
constitution  being  what  it  is,  God  could 
not,  without  inconsistency,  have  given  him 
any  other  law  than  that  under  which  he 
lives.*    We  discern  good  from  evil  by  the 
understanding,  which  judgment,  when  ex- 
ercised on  our  own  actions,  is  called  con- 
science ;  but  he  strongly  protests  against 
any  such  jurisdiction  of  conscience,  inde- 
pendent of  reason  and  knowledge,  as  some 
have  asserted.     This   notion  "  was    first 
introduced  by   the   schoolmen,   and  has 


*  Dissertation  on  Ethical  Philosophy,  p.  48. 


C.  2. 


FROM  1G50  TO  1700. 


345 


been  maintained  iu  these  latter  ages  by 
the  crafty  casuists  for  the  better  securing 
of  men's  minds  and  fortunes  to  their  own 
fortune  and  advantage."*  Puffendorf  was 
a  good  deal  imbued  with  the  Lutheran 
bigotry,  which  did  no  justice  to  any  re- 
ligion but  its  own. 

39.  Law  alone  creates  obligation ;  no 
one  can  be  obliged  except  towards  a  su- 
perior.   But  to  compel  and  to  oblige  being 
different  things,  it  is  required  for  this  latter 
that  we  should  have  received  some  great 
good  at  the  hands  of  a  superior,  or  have 
voluntarily  submitted  to  his  will.     This 
seems   to   involve    an  antecedent   moral 
right,  which  Puffcndorf's  general  theory 
denies. f     Barbeyrac,  his  able  and  watch- 
ful commentator,  derives  obligation  from 
our  natural  dependance  on  the  supreme 
authority  of  God,  who  can  punish  the  dis- 
obedient and  reward  others.     In  order  to 
make  laws  obligatory,  it  is  necessary,  ac- 
cording to  Puffendorf,  that  we  should  know 
both  the  law  and  the  lawgiver's  authority. 
Actions  are  good  or  evil  as  they  conform 
more  or  less  to  law.    And.  coming  to  con- 
sider the  peculiar  qualities  of  moral  ac- 
tions, he  introduces  the  distinction  of  per- 
fect and  imperfect  rights,  objecting  to  that 
of  Grotius  and  the  Roman  lawyers,  ex- 
pletive and  distributive  justice. f    This  first 
book  of  Puffendorf  is  very  diffuse  ;    and 
some  chapters  are  wholly  omitted  in  the 
abridgement. 

40.  The  natural  state  of  man,  such  as 
in  theory  we  may  suppose,  is  one  in  which 
he  was  never  placed,   "  thrown  into  the 
world  at  a  venture,  and  then  left  entirely 
to  himself,  with  no  larger  endowments  of 
body  or  mind  than  such  as  we  now  dis- 
cover in  men."    This,  however,  he  seems 
to  think  physically  possible  to  have  been, 
which  I  should  incline  to  question.    .Man, 
in  a  state  of  nature,  is  subject  to  no  earth- 
ly superior ;  but  we  must  not  infer  thence 
that  he  is  incapable  of  law,  and  has  a  right. ' 
to  everything  that  is  profitable  to  himself.  ' 
But,    after    discussing    the    position    of 
Hobbes  that  a  state  of  nature  is  a  state  ; 
of  war,  he  ends  by  admitting  that  the  de- ' 
sire  of  peace  is  too  weak  and  uncertain  l 
a   security  for   its    preservation    among 
mankind. t 

41.  The  law  of  nature  he  derives,  not 
from   consent   of    nations   or   from    per- 
sonal utility,  but  from  the  condition  of 
man.     It  is  discoverable  by  reason  ;    its 
obligation  is  from  God.     He  denies  that 
it  is  founded  on  the  intrinsic  honesty  or 
turpitude  of  actions.     It  was  free  to  God 
whether  he  would  create  an  animal  to 


C.  3.        t  C.  6. 
VOL.  II.— X  x 


C.  7. 


L.  ii.,  c.  2. 


whom  the  present  law  of  nature  should 
be  applicable.  But,  supposing  all  things 
,  human  to  remain  constant,  the  law  of  na- 
ture, though  owing  its  institution  to  the 
free  will  of  God,  remains  unalterable. 
He  therefore  neither  agrees  wholly  with 
those  who  deem  this  law  as  one  arbitrary 
and  mutable  at  God's  pleasure,  nor  those 
who  look  upon  it  as  an  image  of  his  es- 
sential holiness  and  justice.  For  he  doubts 
whether  the  law  of  nature  is  altogether 
conformed  to  the  Divine  attributes  as  to 
a  type,  since  we  cannot  acquire  a  right 
with  respect  to  God;  so  that  his  just  ire 
must  be  of  a  different  kind  from  ours. 
Common  consent,  again,  is  an  insufficient 
basis  of  natural  law,  few  men  having 
searched  into  the  foundations  of  their  as- 
sent, even  if  we  could  find  a  more  general 
consent  than  is  the  case.  And  here  he 
expatiates,  in  the  style  of  Montaigne's 
school,  on  the  variety  of  moral  opinions.* 
Puffendorf  next  attacks  those  who  resolve 
right  into  self-interest.  But,  unfortunate- 
ly, he  only  proves  that  men  often  mistake 
their  interest.  "It  is  a  great  mistake  to 
fancy  it  will  be  profitable  to  you  to  take 
away,  cither  by  fraud  or  violence,  what 
another  man  has  acquired  by  his  labour, 
since  others  have  not  only  the  power  of 
resisting  you,  but  of  taking  the  same  free- 
dom with  your  goods  and  possessions."! 
This  is  evidently  no  answer  to  Hobbes  or 
Spinosa. 

42.  The  nature  of  man,  his  wants,  his 
powers  of  doing  mischief  to  others,  his 
means  of  mutual  assistance,  show  tint  he 
cannot  be  supported  in  things  necessary 
and  convenient  to  him  without  society,  so 
that  others  may  promote   his  interests. 
Hence  sociableness  is  a  primary  law  of 
nature,  and  all  things  tending  towards  it 
are  commanded,  as  the  opposite  are  for- 
bidden by  that  law.     In  this  he  agrees 
with  Grotius  ;  and,  after  he  had  become 
acquainted  with  Cumberland's  work,  ob- 
serves that  the  fundamental  law  of  that 
writer,  to  live  for  the  common  good,  and 
show  benevolence  towards  all  men.  • 

not  differ  from  his  own.  He  partly  ex- 
plains and  partly  answers  the  theory  of 
Hobbes.  From  Grotius  he  dissents  iu 
denying  that  the  law  of  nature  would  be 
binding  without  religion,  but  docs  not 
think  the  soul's  immortality  essential  to 
it.f  The  best  division  of  natural  law  is 
into  duties  towards  ourselves  and  to- 
wards others.  But  in  the  abridged  work, 
the  Duties  of  a  Man  and  a  Citi/eii,  he 
adds  those  towards  God. 

43.  The  former  class  of  duties  he  il- 


*  C.  3. 


t  Ibid. 


346 


lustrates  with  much  prolixity  and  need- 
less quotation,*  and  passes  to  the  right  of 
self-defence,  which  seems  to  be  the  de- 
bateable  frontier  between  the  two  classes 
of  obligation.  In  this  chapter  Puffendorf 
is  free  from  the  extreme  scrupulousness 
of  Grotius  ;  yet  he  differs  from  him,  as 
well  as  from  Barbeyrac  and  Locke,  in  de- 
nying the  right  of  attacking  the  aggressor, 
where  a  stranger  has  been  injured,  unless 
where  we  arc  bound  to  him  by  promise. f 
44.  All  persons,  as  is  evident,  are  bound 
to  repair  wilful  injury,  and  even  that  ari- 
sing from  their  neglect ;  but  not,  where 
they  have  not  been  in  fault. J  Yet  the 
civil  action  ob  pauperism,  for  casual  dam- 
age by  a  boast  or  slave,  which  Grotius 
held  to  be  merely  of  positive  law,  mid 
which  our  own  (in  the  only  applicable 
case)  does  not  recognise,  Puffendorf 
thinks  grounded  on  natural  right.  He 
considers  several  questions  of  reparation, 
chiefly  such  as  we  find  in  Grotius.  From 
these,  after  some  intermediate  disquisi- 
tions on  moral  duties,  he  comes  to  the 
more  extensive  province  of  casuistry,  the 
obligation  of  promises. §  These,  for  the 
most  part,  give  perfect  rights  which  may 
be  enforced,  though  this  is  not  universal ; 
hence  promises  themselves  may  be  called 
imperfect.  The  former,  or  nuda  pacta, 
seem  to  be  obligatory  rather  by  the  rules 
of  veracity,  and  for  the  sake  of  maintain- 
ing confidence  among  men,  than  in  strict 
justice  ;  yet  he  endeavours  to  refute  the 
opinion  of  a  jurist  who  held  nuda  pacta  to 
involve  no  obligation  beyond  a  compen- 1 
sation  for  damage.  Free  consent  and 
knowledge  of  the  whole  subject  are  re- 
quired for  the  validity  of  a  promise ;  \ 
hence  drunkenness  takes  away  its  obliga- 
tion. ||  Whether  a  minor  is  bound  in  con- 
science, though  not  in  law,  has  been  dis- 
puted; the  Romish  casuists  all  denying  it 
unless  he  has  received  an  advantage.  La 
Placette,  it  seems,  after  the  time  of  Puf- 
fendorf, though  a  very  rigid  moralist,  con- 
fines the  obligation  to  cases  where  the 
other  party  sustains  any  real  damage  by 
the  non-performance.  The  world,  in  some 
instances  at  least,  would  exact  more  than 
the  strictest  casuists.  Promises  were  in- 
validated, though  not  always  mutual  con- 
tracts, by  error ;  and  fraud  in  the  other 
party  annuls  a  contract.  There  can  be 
no  obligation,  Puffendorf  maintains,  with- 
out a  corresponding  right ;  hence  fear 
arising  from  the  fault  of  the  other  parly 
invalidates  a  promise.  But  those  made 
to  pirates  or  rebels,  not  being  extorted  by 
fear,  are  binding.  Vows  to  God  he  deems 

*  C.  4.      f  C.  5.      J  L.  iii.,  c.  1.     $  C.  5.      ||  C.  6. 


not  binding,  unless  accepted  by  him  ;  but 
he  thinks  that  we  may  presume  their  ac- 
ceptance when  they  serve  to  define  or 
specify  an  indeterminate  duty.*  Unlaw- 
ful promises  must  not  be  performed  by 
the  party  promising  to  commit  an  evil 
act ;  and  as  to  performance  of  the  other 
party's  promise,  he  differs  from  Grotius 
in  thinking  it  not  binding.  Barbeyrac 
concurs  with  Puffendorf,  but  Paley  holds 
the  contrary ;  and  the  common  senti- 
ments of  mankind  seem  to  be  on  that 
side.f 

45.  The  obligations  of  veracity  Puffen- 
dorf, after  much  needless  prolixity  on  the 
nature  of  signs  and  words,  deduces  from 
a  tacit    contract    among    mankind,    that 
words,  or  signs  of  intention,  shall  be  used 
in  a  definite  sense  which  others  may  un- 
derstand.J     He  is  rather  fond  of  these 
imaginary  compacts.     The  laxer  casuists 
are  in  nothing  more  distinguishable  from 
the  more  rigid  than  in  the  exceptions  they 
allow  to   the   general  rule   of   veracity. 
Many,  like  Augustin  and  most  of  the  fa- 
thers, have  laid  it  down  that  all  falsehood 
is  unlawful ;    even   sonic  of  the  jurists, 
when  treating  of  morality,  had  done  the 
same.     But  Puffendorf  gives  considerable 
latitude  to  deviations  from  truth,  by  men- 
tal reserve,  by  ambiguous  words,  by  di- 
rect falsehood.    Barbeyrac,  in  a  long  note, 
goes  a  good  deal  farther,  and,  indeed,  be- 
yond any  safe  limit. §     An  oath,  accord- 
ing to  those  writers,  adds  no  peculiar  ob- 
ligation ;  another  remarkable  discrepance 
between  their  system  and  that  of  the  the- 
ological casuists.    Oaths  may  be  released 
by  the  party  in  favour  of  whom  they  are 
made  ;    but  it  is  necessary   to   observe 
whether  the  dispensing  authority  is  really 
the  obligee. 

46.  We  now  advance  to  a  different  part 
of  moral  philosophy,  the  rights  of  prop- 
erty.    Puffendorf   first  inquires  into  the 
natural  right  of  killing  animals  for  food  ; 
but  does  not  defend  it  very  well,  resting 
this  right  on  the  want  of  mutual  obliga- 
tion between  man  and  brutes.     The  argu- 


*  C.  6.  f  C.  7.  J  L.  iv.,c.  1. 

§  Barbeyrac  admits  that  several  writers  of  au- 
thority since  Puffendorf  had  maintained  the  strict 
obligation  of  veracity  for  its  own  sake  ;  Thoina- 
sins,  Buddaeus,  Noodt,  and,  above  all,  La  Placette. 
His  own  notions  are  too  much  the  other  way,  both 
according  to  the  received  standard  of  honourable 
and  decorous  character  among  men,  and  according 
to  any  sound  theory  of  ethics.  Lying,  he  says, 
condemned  in  Scripture,  always  means  fraud  or  in- 
jury to  others.  His  doctrine  is,  that  we  are  to 
speak  the  truth,  or  to  be  silent,  or  to  feign  and  dis- 
semble, accordingly  as  our  own  lawful  interest,  or 
that  of  our  neighbour,  may  demand  it.  This  is 
surely  as  untenable  one  way  as  any  paradox  in  Au- 
gustin or  La  Placette  can  be  the  other. 


FROM  1650  TO  1700. 


347 


raenls  from  physiology  and  the  manifest  | 
propensity  of  mankind  to  devour  animals, 
are  much  stronger.  He  censures  cruelty 
towards  animals,  but  hardly  on  clear ! 
grounds ;  the  disregard  of  moral  emo- 
tion, which  belongs  to  his  philosophy,  pre- 
vents his  judging  it  rightly.*  Property 
itself  in  things  he  grounds  on  an  express 
or  tacit  contract  of  mankind,  while  all  I 
was  yet  in  common,  that  each  should  j 
possess  a  separate  portion.  This  cove- 
nant he  supposes  to  have  been  gradually 
extended,  as  men  perceived  the  advantage 
of  separate  possession,  lands  having  been 
cultivated  in  common  after  severally  had  j 
been  established  in  houses  and  move-able 
goods  :  and  he  refutes  those  who  main- 
tain property  to  be  coeval  with  mankind, 
and  immediately  founded  on  the  law  of 
nature. f  Nothing  can  be  the  subject  of 
property  which  is  incapable  of  exclusive 
occupation  ;  not,  therefore,  the  ocean, 
though  some  narrow  seas  may  be  appro- 
priated.J  In  the  remainder  of  this  fourth 
book  he  treats  on  a  variety  of  subjects 
connected  with  property,  which  carry  us 
over  a  wide  field  of  natural  and  positive 
jurisprudence. 

47.  The  fifth  book  of  Puffendorf  relates 
to  price,  and  to  all  contracts  onerous  or 
lucrative,  according  to  the  distinction  of! 
the  jurists,  with  the  rules  of  their  inter- 
pretation.    It  is   a  running  criticism  on 
the  Roman  law,  comparing  it  with  right 
reason  and  justice.     Price  he  divides  into 
proper  and  eminent ;  the  first  being  what 
we  call  real  value,  or  capacity  of  procu- 
ring things    desirable   by   means   of  ex- 
change ;    the    second   the    money    value. 
What  is  said  on  this  subject  would  now 
seem  commonplace  and  prolix;  but  it  is 
rather  interesting  to  observe  the  begin- 
nings of  political  economy.     Money,  he 
thinks,  was  introduced  by  an  agreement 
of  civilized  nations  as  a  measure  of  value. 
Puffendorf,  of  more  enlarged  views  than 
Grotius,  vindicates  usury,  which  the  other 
had  given  up:  and  mentions  the  evasions 
usually  practised,  such  as  the  grant  of  an 
annuity  for  a  limited  term. 

48.  In  the  sixth  book  we  have  disquisi- 
tions on  matrimony  and  the  rights  incident 
to  it,  on  paternal  and  on  herile  power. 
Among   other  questions  he    raises   one, 
whether    the    husband    has    any    natural 
dominion  over  the  wife.     This  he  thinks 
hard  to  prove,  except  as  his  sex  gives  him 
an  advantage  ;  but  fitness  to  govern  does 
not  create  a  right.   He  has  recourse,  there- 


*  C.  3. 

t  C.  4.  Barbeyrac  more  wisely  denies  this  as- 
sumed compact,  and  rests  the  right  of  property  on 
individual  occupancy..  t  C.  5. 


fore,  to  his  usual  solution,  her  tacit  or  ex- 
press promise  of  obedience.  Polygamy 
he  deems  contrary  to  the  law  of  nature 
but  not  incest,  except  in  the  direct  line. 
This  is  consonant  to  what  had  been  the 
general  determination  of  philosophers.* 
The  right  of  parents  he  derives  from  tho 
general  duty  of  sociableness,  which  makes 
preservation  of  children  necessary,  and  on 
the  alVection  implanted  in  them  by  nature; 
also  on  a  presumed  consent  of  the  children 
ia  return  for  their  maintenance.!  In  a 
state  of  nature  this  command  belongs  to 
the  mother,  unless  she  has  waived  it  by  a 
matrimonial  contract.  In  childhood,  the 
fruits  of  the  child's  labour  belong  to  the 
father,  though  the  former  seems  to  be 
capable  of  receiving  gifts.  Fathers,  as 
heads  of  families,  have  a  kind  of  sov- 
ereignty, distinct  from  the  paternal,  to 
which  adult  children  residing  with  them 
are  submitted.  But  after  their  emancipa- 
tion by  leaving  their  father's  house,  which 
does  not  absolutely  require  his  consent, 
they  are  bound  only  to  duty  and  reverence. 
The  power  of  a  master  over  his  servant 
is  not  by  nature,  nor  by  the  law  of  war, 
but  originally  by  a  contract  founded  on 
necessity.  War  increased  the  number  of 
those  in  servitude.  A  slave,  whatever 
Hobbes  may  say,  is  capable  of  being  in- 
jured by  his  master  ;  but  the  laws  of  some 
nations  give  more  power  to  the  latter  than 
is  warranted  by  those  of  nature.  Servi- 
tude implies  only  an  obligation  to  perpetual 
labour  for  a  recompense  (namely,  at  least 
maintenance)  ;  the  evil  necessary  n>  this 
condition  has  been  much  exaggerated  by 
opinion. J 

49.  Puffendorf  and  Cumberland  are  the 
two  great  promoters,  if  not  found-  ]>,,(rlM,,iorf 
ers  of  that  school  in  ethics,  which,  ami  i';iiry 
abandoning  the  higher  ground  of  r"'"i»arc<i. 
both  philosophers  and  theologians,  that  of 
an  intrinsic  fitness  and  propriety  in  actions, 
resolved  them  all  into  their  conducivenesa 
towards  good.  Their  utile,  indeed,  is  very 
different  from  what  Cicero  has  so  named, 
which  is  merely  personal,  but  it,  is  differ- 
ent also  from  his  lnmcstnm.  The  sociable- 
ness  of  Puffendorf  is  perhaps  much  the 
same  with  the  general  good  of  Cumber- 
land, but  is  somewhat  loss  comprehensive 
and  less  clear.  Paley,  who  had  not  read 
a  great  deal,  had  certainly  read  Puffendorf; 
he  has  borrowed  from  him  several  minor 
illustrations,  such  as  the  equivocal  promise 
of  Timur  (called  by  Palcy  Temurcs)  to 
the  garrison  of  Sebastia.  and  the  rules  for 
division  of  profits  in  partnership.  Their 
minds  were  in  some  respects  alike:  both 


L.  vi,  c.  1. 


t  C.  2. 


C.  3 


349 


phlegmatic,  honest,  and  sincere,  without  en  upon  this  writer  is  founded  on  ms 
warmth  or  fancy  ;  yet  there  seems  a  more  proneness  to  assign  ;i  low  and  selfish  mo- 
thorough  good-nature  and  kindliness  of 'live  to  human  ac;.i<. ;,:•:,  and  even  to  those 

which  are  most  usually  denominated  vir- 
tuous.    It  is  impossible  to  dispute  the  par- 


heart  in  our  countryman.     Though  an  en- 
nobled German,  Puffendorf  had  as  little 


respect  for  the  law  of  honour  as  Paley 
himself.     They  do  not,  indeed,  resemble 


tial  truth  of  this  charge.     Yet  it  may  be 
pleaded  that  many  of  his  maxims  are  not 


each  other  in  their  modes  of  writing;  one  1  universal  even  in  their  enunciation  ;  and 
was  very  laborious,  the  other  very  indo-  j  that  in  others,  where,  for  the  sake  of  a 
lent ;  one  sometimes  misses  his  mark  by  I  more  effective  expression,  the  position 
cireuity,  the  other  by  precipitance.  The  j  seems  general,  we  ought  to  understand  it 
quotations  in  Puffendorf  are  often  as  thick-  j  with  such  limitations  as  our  experience 
ly  strewed  as  in  Grotius,  though  he  takes  may  suggest.  The  society  with  which  the 
less  from  the  poets  ;  but  he  seems  not  to  Duke  of  la  Rochefoucault  was  conversant 
build  upon  their  authority,  which  gives  could  not  elevate  his  notions  of  disinter- 
them  still  more  the  air  of  superfluity.  His  I  ested  probity  in  man,  or  of  unblemished 
•theory,  indeed,  which  assigns  no  weight  to  '  purity  in  woman.  Those  who  call  them- 


anything  but  a  close  geometrical  deduction 
from  axioms,  is  incompatible  with  much 
deference  to  authority  ;  and  he  sets  aside 
the  customs  of  mankind  as  unstable  and 
arbitrary.  He  has  not  taken  much  from 
Hobbes,  whose  principles  are  far  from  his ; 


selves  the  world,  it  is  easy  to  perceive,  set 
aside,  in  their  remarks  on  human  nature, 
all  the  species  but  themselves,  and  some- 
times generalize  their  maxims,  to  an 
amusing  degree,  from  the  manners  and 
sentiments  which  have  grown  up  in  the 


but  a  great  deal  from  Grotius.  The  lead-  atmosphere  of  a  court  or  an  aristocratic 
ing  diiference  between  the  treatises  of:  society.  Rochefoucault  was  of  far  too  re- 
these  celebrated  men  is,  that  while  the  fleeting  a  mind  to  be  confounded  with  such 
former  contemplated  the  law  that  ought  to  mere  worldlings  ;  yet  he  bears  witness  to 
be  observed  among  independent  communi- '  the  contracted  observation  and  the  pre- 
ties  as  his  primary  object,  to  render  which  cipitate  inferences  which  an  intercourse 
more  evident  he  lays  down  the  fundamental  with  a  single  class  of  society  scarcely  fails 
principle  of  private  right  or  the  law  of  to  generate.  The  malignity  of  Rochefou- 
nature,  the  latter,  on  the  other  hand,  not  cault  is  always  directed  against  the  false 
only  begins  with  natural  law.  but  makes  it  j  virtues  of  mankind,  but  never  touches  the 


the  great  theme  of  his  inquiries. 


reality  of  moral  truths,  and  leaves  us  less 


50.  Few  books  have  been  more  highly  injured  than  the  cold,  heartless  indiffer- 
Rochcfou-  extolled  or  more  severely  blamed  '  ence  to  right  which  distils  from  the  pages 
cauit.  than  the  Thoughts  or  Maxims  of  of  Hobbes.  Nor  does  he  deal  in  those 
the  Duke  of  Rochefoucault.  They  have,  |  sweeping  denials  of  goodness  to  human 
indeed,  the  greatest  advantages  for  popu-  nature  which  are  so  frequently  hazarded 
larity ;  the  production  of  a  man  less  dis-  under  the  mask  of  religion.  His  maxims 
tinguished  by  his  high  rank  than  by  his  '  are  not  exempt  from  defects  of  a  different 
active  participation  in  the  factions  of  his  kind  ;  they  are  sometimes  refined  to  a  de- 
country  at  a  time  when  they  reached  the  gree  of  absurdity,  and  sometimes,  under 
limits  of  civil  war,  and  by  his  brilliancy  j  an  epigrammatic  turn,  convey  little  more 
among  the  accomplished  courtiers  of  Louis  than  a  trivial  meaning.  Perhaps,  howev- 
XIV.;  concise  and  energetic  in  expression;  er,  it  would  be  just  to  say  that  one  third 
reduced  to  those  short  aphorisms,  which  of  the  number  deserved  to  be  remembered, 
leave  much  to  the  reader's  acuteness,  and  as  at  least  partially  true  and  useful ;  and 
yet  save  his  labour ;  not  often  obscure  and  this  is  a  large  proportion,  if  we  exclude  all 
never  wearisome ;  an  evident  generaliza-  that  are  not  in  some  measure  original. 
tion  of  long  experience,  without  pedantry,  52.  The  Characters  of  La  Bruyere,  pub- 
without  method,  without  deductive  reason-  lished  in  1687,  approach  to  the 
ings,  yet  wearing  an  appearance,  at  least,  \  Maxims  of  La  Rochefoucault  by 
of  profundity,  they  delight  the  intelligent '.  their  refinement,  their  brevity,  their  gen- 
though  indolent  man  of  the  world,  and  eral  tendency  to  an  unfavourable  explana- 
must  be  read  with  some  admiration  by  the  tion  of  human  conduct.  This,  neverthe- 
philosopher.  Among  the  books  in  ancient  less,  is  not  so  strongly  marked,  and  the  pic- 
and  modern  times  which  record  the  con-  ture  of  selfishness  wants  the  darkest  touch- 
elusions  of  observing  men  on  the  moral  PS  of  his  contemporary's  colouring.  La 
qualities  of  their  fellows,  a  high  place  Bruyere  had  a  model  in  antiquity,  Theo- 
should  be  res-erved  for  the  Maxims  of  phrastus,  whose  short  book  of  Characters 


La  Bruyere. 


Rochefoucault. 


he  had  himself  translated  and  prefixed  to 


SI.  The  censure  that  has  so  heavily  fall-   his  own  ;  a  step  not  in  politic  for  his  own 


FROM  1650  TO  1700. 


349 


glory,  since  the  Greek  writer,  with  no  con- 
temptible degree  of  merit,  has  been   in- 
comparably  surpassed    by    his    imitator. 
Many  changes  in  the  condition  of  society, 
the  greater  diversity  of  ranks  and  occupa- 
tions in  modern  Europe,  the  influence  of 
women  over  the  other  sex,  as  well  as  their 
own  varieties  of  character  and  manners, 
the  effects  of  religion,  learning,  chivalry, 
royalty,  have  given  a  range  to  this  very 
pleasing  department  of  moral  literature 
which  no  ancient  could  have  compassed. 
Nor  has  Theophrastus  taken  much  pains 
to  search  the  springs  of  character ;  his  de- 
lineations are  bold  and  clear,  but  merely 
in  outline  ;  we  see  more  of  manners  than 
of  nature,  and  the  former  more  in  general 
classes  than  in  portraiture.     La  Bruyere 
lias  often  painted  single  persons  ;  whether 
accurately  or  no,  we  cannot  at  this  time 
determine,  but  with  a  felicity  of  descrip- 
tion which  at  once  renders  the  likeness 
probable,  and  suggests  its  application  to 
those  we  ourselves  have  seen.     His  gen- 
eral reflections,  like  those  of  Rochefou- 
cault,  are  brilliant  with  antithesis  ami  ep- 
igrammatic conciseness ;  sometimes,  per- 
haps, not  quite  just  or  quite  perspicuous. 
But  he  pleases  more,  on  the  whole,  from 
his  variety,  his  greater  liveliness,  and  his 
gentler  spirit  of  raillery.     Nor  does  he  for- 
get to  mingle  the  praise  of  some  with  his 
satire.     But  lie  is  rather  a  bold  writer  for 
his  age  and  his  position  in  the  court,  and 
what  looks  like  flattery  may  well  have 
been  ironical.     Few  have  been  more  imi- 
tated, as  well  as  more  admired,  than  La 
Bruyere,  who    fills  up   the  list  of  those 
whom  France  has  boasted  as  most  con- 
spicuous for  their  knowledge  of  nature. 
The  others  are  Montaigne.  Charron,  Pas- 
cal, and  Rochefoucault;  but  we  might  with- 
draw the  second  name  without  injustice. 

53.  Moral  philosophy  comprehends  in 
Education  its  literature  whatever  has  been 
Mute's  written  on  the  best  theory  and 
Tractate.  precept.s  of  moral  education,  dis- 
regarding what  is  confined  to  erudition, 
though  this  may  frequently  be  partially 
treated  in  works  of  the  former  class.  Ed- 
ucation, notwithstanding  its  recognised 
importance,  was  miserably  neglected  in 
England,  and  quite  as  much,  perhaps,  in 
every  part  of  Europe.  Schools,  kept  by 
lowborn,  illiberal  pedants,  teaching  little, 
and  that  little  ill,  without  regard  to  any 
judicious  discipline  or  moral  culture,  on 
the  one  hand,  or,  on  the  other,  a  pr 
of  instruction  at  home  under  some  igno- 
rant and  servile  tutor,  seem  to  have  been 
the  alternatives  of  our  juvenile  gentry. 
Milton  raised  his  voice  against  these  faulty  ; 
methods  in  his  short  Tractate  on  Educa- ; 
• 


j  tion.     This  abounds  witli  bursts  of  his  ek 
j  evated  spirit;  and  sketches  out  a  model" 
:  of  public  colleges,  wherein  the  teaching 
should  be  more  comprehensive,  more  lib- 
eral,  more    accommodated    to    what   he 
j  deems  the  great  aim  of  education   than 
what  was  in  use.    "  That,"  he  says,  "  J  call 
|  a  complete  and  generous  education  which 
fits  a  man  to  perform  justly,  skilfully,  and 
j  magnanimously  all  the  offices,  both  private 
and  public,  of  peace  and  war."     But  when 
;  Milton  descends  to  specify  the  course  of 
I  studies  he  would  recommend,  it  appears 
|  singularly   ill-chosen   and    impracticable, 
nearly  confined  to  ancient  writer^ 
i  in  mathematics  and  other  subject.-, 
I  they  could  not  be  sufficient,  and  likely  to 
I  leave  the  student  very  far  from  thut  apti- 
tude for  offices  of  war  and  peace  which  he 
had  held  forth  as  the  reward  of  his  dili- 
gence. 

54.  Locke,  many  years  afterward,  turn- 
ed his  thoughts  to  education  with  , ,,.kc,  Oil 
all  the  advantages  that  a  stroi: 
understanding  and  entire  disinter-  1|M  ""'nts 
estedncss  could  give  him  ;  but,  as  we, 
should  imagine,  with  some  necessary  de- 
ficiencies of  experience,  though  we  hardly 
perceive  much  of  them  in  his  writings. 
He  looked  on  the  methods  usual  in  his  age 
with  severity,  or,  some  would  say,  \vith 
prejudice ;  yet  I  know  not  by  what  proof 
we  ca.ii  refute  Iris  testimony.  In  his  Trea- 
tise on  Education,  which  may  be  reckoned 
;ai  introduction  to  that  on  the  Conduct  of 
the  Understanding,  since  the  latter  is  hut 
a  scheme  of  that  education  an  adult,  per- 
son should  give  himself,  he  has  uttered,  to 
say  the  least,  more  good  sense  on  the  sub- 
ject than  will  be  found  in  any  preceding 
writer.  Locke  was  not  like  the.  pedants 
of  his  own  or  other  age-i,  who  think  that 
to  pour  their  wordy  book-learning  into  the 
memory  is  the  true  discipline  of  cj 
The  culture  of  the  intellectual  and  i; 
faculties  in  their  most  extensive  sense,  the 
health  of  the  body,  the  accomplishments 
which  common  utility  or  social  custom 
have  r;  (liable,  enter  into  his  Hca 

of  the  best  model  of  education,  conjointly, 

•i,  with  any  knowledge  that  cai 
imparted   by   books.     The  had 

written  in  the  same  spirit;  in  Xenophon, 
in  Plato,  in  Aristotle,  the  noble  concep- 
tion which  Miltoa  has  expressed,  of  firm- 
ing the  perfect  man,  is  always  pn>  lomi- 
nant  over  mere  literary  instruction,  if.  in- 
deed, the  latter  can  be  said  to  appear  at 
•all  in  their  writings  on  this  subject  :  but 
we  had  become  the  du;v  -  of  schoolmas- 
ters in  our  riper  years,  as  \\c  h:>d  boon 
their  slaves  in  our  youth.  Much  Ins  been 
written,  and  often  well,  since  the  days  of 


350 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


Locke ;  but  he  is  the  chief  source  from 
which  it  has  been  ultimately  derived  ;  and, 
though  the  Emile  is  more  attractive  in 
manner,  it  may  be  doubtful  whether  it  is 
as  rational  and  practicable  as  the  Treatise 
on  Education.  I  f  they  have  both  the  same 
defect,  that  their  authors  wanted  sufficient 
observation  of  children,  it  is  certain  that 
the  caution  and  sound  judgment  of  Locke 
have  rescued  him -tetter  from  error. 

55.  There  are,  indeed,  from  this  or  from 
other  causes,  several  passages 
s'  in  the  Treatise  on  Education  to 
which  we  cannot  give  an  unhesitating  as- 
sent. Locke  appears  to  have  somewhat 
exaggerated  the  efficacy  of  education. 
This  is  an  error  on  the  right  side  in  a 
work  that  aims  at  persuasion  in  a  practi- 
cal matter;  but  we  are  now  looking  at 
theoretical  truth  alone  "  I  think  I  may 
say,"  he  begins,  ''that  of  all  the  men  we 
meet  with,  nine  parts  of  ten  are  what  they 
are,  good  or  evil,  useful  or  not,  by  their 
education.  It  is  this  which  makes  the 
great  difference  in  mankind.  The  little  or 
almost  insensible  impressions  on  our  ten- 
der infancies  have  very  important  and 
lasting  consequences  ;  and  there  'tis  as  in 
the  fountains  of  some  rivers,  where  a  gen- 
tle application  of  the  hand  turns  the  flexi- 
ble waters  into  channels  that  make  them 
take  quite  contrary  courses ;  and  by  this 
little  direction  given  them  at  first  in  the 
source,  they  receive  different  tendencies, 
and  arrive  at  last  at  very  remote  and  dis- 
tant places."  "  I  imagine,"  he  adds  soon 
afterward,  "the  minds  of  children  as  easi- 
ly turned  this  or  that  way  as  water  itself.''* 

50.  This  passage  is  an  instance  of 
Locke's  unfortunate  fondness  for  analogi- 
cal parallels,  which,  as  far  as  I  have  ob- 
served, much  more  frequently  obscure  a 
philosophical  theorem  than  shed  any  light 
upon  it.  Nothing  would  be  easier  than  to 
confirm  the  contrary  proposition  by  such 
fanciful  analogies  from  external  nature. 
In  itself,  the  position  is  hyperbolical  to  ex- 
travagance. It  is  no  more  disparagement 
to  the  uses  of  education  that  it  will  not 
produce  the  like  effects  upon  every  indi- 
vidual, than  it  is  to  those  of  agriculture  (I 
purposely  use  this  sort  of  idle  analogy) 
that  we  do  not  reap  the  same  quantity  of 
corn  from  every  soil.  Those  who  are 
conversant  with  children  on  a  large  scale 
will,  I  believe,  unanimously  deny  this  lev- 
elling efficacy  of  tuition.  The  variety  of 
characters  even  in  children  of  the  same 
family,  where  the  domestic  associations 


'Treatise  on  Education,  §  152.  "The  differ- 
ence," he  afterward  says,  "  to  be  found  in  the  man- 
ners and  abilities  of  men,  is  owing  more  to  their  ed- 
ucation than  to  anything  else."—  §  32. 


of  infancy  have  run  in  the  same  trains, 
and  where  many  physical  congenialities 
may  produce,  and  ordinarily  do  produce, 
a  moral  resemblance,  is  of  sufficiently  fre- 
quent occurrence  to  prove  that  in  human 
beings  there  are  intrinsic  dissimilitudes, 
which  no  education  can  essentially  over- 
come. Among  mere  theorists,  however, 
this  hypothesis  seems  to  be  popular.  And 
as  many  of  these  extend  their  notion  of 
the  plasticity  of  human  nature  to  the  ef- 
fects of  government  and  legislation,  which 
is  a  sort  of  continuance  of  the  same  con- 
trolling power,  they  are  generally  induced 
to  disregard  past  experience  of  human  af- 
fairs, because  they  flatter  themselves  that, 
under  a  more  scientific  administration, 
mankind  will  become  something  very  dif- 
ferent from  what  they  have  been. 

57.  In  the  age  of  Locke,  if  we  may  con- 
fide in  what  he  tells  us,  the  domestic  edu- 
cation of  children  must  have  been  of  the 
worst  kind.  "  If  we  look,"  he  says,  "  into 
the  common  management  of  children,  we 
shall  have  reason  to  wonder,  in  the  great 
dissoruteuess  of  manners  which  the  world 
complains  of,  that  there  are  any  footsteps 
at  all  left  of  virtue.  1  desire  to  know 
what  vice  can  be  named  which  parents 
and  those  about  children  do  not  season 
them  with,  and  drop  into  them  the  seeds 
of,  as  often  as  they  are  capable  to  receive 
them."  The  mode  of  treatment  seems 
to  have  been  passionate  and  often  barba- 
rous severity  alternating  with  foolish  in- 
dulgence. Their  spirits  were  often  bro- 
ken down  and  their  ingenuousness  de- 
stroyed by  the  former;  their  habits  of 
self-will  and  sensuality  confirmed  by  the 
latter.  This  was  the  course  used  by  pa- 
rents ;  but  the  pedagogues,  of  course,  con- 
fined themselves  to  their  favourite  scheme 
of  instruction  and  reformation  by  punish- 
ment. Dugald  Stewart  has  animadverted 
en  the  austerity  of  Locke's  rules  of  educa- 
tion.* And  this  is  certainly  the  case  in 
some  respects.  lie  recommends  that  chil- 
dren should  be  taught  to  expect  nothing 
because  it  will  give  them  pleasure,  but 
only  what  will  be  useful  to  them ;  a  rule 
fit,  in  its  rigid  meaning,  to  destroy  the 
pleasure  of  the  present  moment  in  the 
only  period  of  life  that  the  present  mo- 
ment can  be  really  enjoyed.  No  fathei 
himself,  Locke  neither  knew  how  ill  a  pa- 
rent can  spare  the  love  of  his  child,  nor 
how  HI  a  child  can  want  the  constant  and 
practical  sense  of  a  parent's  love.  But 
if  he  was  led  too  far  by  deprecating  the 
mischievous  indulgence  he  had  sometimes 
witnessed,  he  made  some  amends  by  his 


Preliminary  Dissertation  to  Encyclop.  Britana. 


FROM  1050  TO  1700. 


351 


censures  on  the  prevalent  discipline  of 
stripes.  Of  this  he  speaks  with  the  dis- 
approbation natural  to  a  mind  already 
schooled  in  the  habits  of  reason  and  vir- 
tue.* "  I  cannot  think  any  correction  use- 
ful to  a  child  where  the  shame  of  suffer- 
ing for  having  done  amiss  does  not  work 
more  upon  him  than  the  pain."  Esteem 
and  disgrace  are  the  rewards  and  punish- 
ments to  which  he  principally  looks.  And 
surely  this  is  a  noble  foundation  for  moral 
discipline.  Tie  also  recommends  that  chil- 
dren should  be  much  with  their  parents, 
and  allowed  all  reasonable  liberty.  I  can- 
not think  that  Stewart's  phrase  "  hardness 
of  character,"  which  he  accounts  for  by 
the  early  intercourse  of  Locke  with  the 
Puritans,  is  justly  applicable  to  anything 
that  we  know  of  him  ;  a.nd  many  more 
passages  in  this  very  treatise  might  be  ad- 
duced to  prove  his  kindliness  of  disposi- 
tion, than  will  appear  to  any  judicious  per- 
son over  austere.  He  found,  in  fact,  every- 
thing wrong ;  a  false  system  of  reward 
and  punishment,  a  false  view  of  the  ob- 
jects of  education,  a  false  selection  of 
studies,  false  methods  of  pursuing  them. 
Where  so  much  was  to  be  corrected,  it 
was  perhaps  natural  to  be  too  sanguine 
about  the  effects  of  the  remedy. 

58.  Of  the  old  dispute  as  to  public  and 
private  education,  he  says  that  both  sides 
have  their  inconveniences,  but  inclines  to 
prefer  the  latter,  influenced,  as  is  evident, 
rather  by  disgust  at  the  state  of  our  schools 
than  by  any  general  principle.!  For  he 
insists  much  on  the  necessity  of  giving  a 
boy  a  sufficient  knowledge  of  what  he  is 
to  expect  in  the  world.  "  The  longer  he 
is  kept  hoodwinked,  the  less  he  will  see 
when  he  comes  abroad  into  open  daylight, 
and  be  the  more  exposed  to  be  a  prey  to 
himself  and  others."'  And  this  experience 
will,  as  is  daily  seen,  not  be  supplied  by  a 
tutor's  lectures  any  more  than  by  book-., 
nor  can  .be  given  by  any  course  save  a 
public  education.  Locke  urges  the  neces- 
sity .pf  having  a  tutor  well  bred,  and  with 
knowledge  of  the  world,  the  ways,  the  hu- 
mours, the  follies,  the  cheats,  the  faults 
of  the  age  he  is  fallen  into,  and  particu- 

*  If  severity  carried  to  the  highfst  pile 
prevail,  anil  works  a  cure  upon  the  present  unruly 
distemper,  it  is  oi'ten  bringing  in  the  room  of  it  a 
worse  and  more  dangerous  disease  by  bre;il. 
tnind  ;  and  then,  in  the  place  of  a  disorderly  younu' 
fellow,  you  have  a  low  spirited,  moped  creature, 
who.  however  with  his  unnatural  sobriety  he  may 
please  silly  people,  who  commend  tame,  inactive 
children  because  they  make  no  noise  nor  give 
them  any  trouble,  yet  at  last  will  probably  prove 
as  uncomfortable  a  thing  to  his  friends,  as  he  will 
be  all  his  life  a  useless  thing  to  himself  and  others. 
— $  51.  t  $  ™. 


larly  of  the  country  he  lives  in,  as  of  far 
more  importance  than  his  scholarship. 
li  The  only  fence  against  the  world  is  a 

thorough  knowledge  of  it He  that 

thinks  not  this  of  more  moment  to  his  son, 
and  for  which  he  more  needs  a  governor, 
than  the  languages  and  learned  sciences, 
forgets  of  how  much  more  use  it  is  to  judge 
right  of  men  and  manage  his  affairs  wise- 
ly with  them,  than  to  speak  Greek  and 
Latin,  and  argue  in  mood  and  figure,  or  to 
have  his  head  filled  with  the  abstruse 
speculations  of  natural  philosophy  and 
metaphysics  ;  nay,  than  to  be  well  versed 
in  Greek  and  Roman  writers,  though  that 
be  much  better  for  a  gentleman  than  to 
be  a  good  Peripatetic  or  Cartesian  ;  be- 
cause these  ancient  authors  observed  and 
painted  mankind  well,  and  give  the  best 
light  into  that  kind  of  knowledge,  lie 
that  goes  into  the  eastern  parts  of  Asia 
will  find  able  and  acceptable  men  without 
any  of  these  ;  but  without  virtue,  knowl- 
edge of  the  world,  and  civility,  an  accom- 
plished and  valuable  man  can  be  found  no- 
where."* 

59.  It  is    to   be    remembered,  that  the 
person  whose;  education  Locke  undertakes 
to  fashion  is  an  English  gentleman.     Vir- 
tue, wisdom,  breeding,  and  learning  are  de- 
sirable for  such  a  one  in  their  order,  but 
the  last  not  so  much  as  the  rcst.f    It  must 
be   had,  lie  says,  but.  only  as  subservient 
1o  irreater  qualities.     No  objections  have 
been   more  frequently  raised  against  the 
scheme  of  Locke  than  on  account  of  his 
depreciation  of  classical  literature  and  of 
the  study  of  the  learned  languages.     This 
is  not  wholly  true:  Latin  he  reckons  ab- 
solutely necessary  for  a  gentleman,  though 
it  is  absurd  that  those  should  learn  Latin 
who  are  designed  for  trade,  and  never  look 
again  at  a  Latin  book.J     If  he  lays  not  so 
much  stress  on   Greek   as  a   gentleman's 
study,  though  he  by  no  means  would  aban- 
don it,  it  is  because,  in  fact,  most  gentle- 
men, especially  in  his  age,  have  done  very 
well  without  it ;  and  nothing  can  be  deem- 
ed indispensable  in  education  of  a  child, 
the  want  of  which  does  not  leave  a  mani- 
fest deficiency  in  the  man.     "No  man," 
lie  observes,  "  can  pass  for  a  scholar  who 

lorant  of  the  Greek  language.  But  I 
am  not  here  considering  of  the  education 
of  a  professed  scholar,  but  of  a  gentle- 
man."^ 

60.  The  peculiar  methods  recommended 
by  Locke  in  learning  languages,  especial- 
ly the  Latin,  appear  to  be  of  very  doubtful 
utility,  thouuh  some  of  them  do  not  want 
strenuous  supporters  in  the  present  day 


$94. 


$138. 


352 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


Such  are  the  method  of  interlinear  trans-  | 
lation,  the  learning  of  mere  words  without 
grammar,  and,  above  all,  the  practice  of  i 
talking  Latin  with  a  tutor  who  speaks  it 
well  :  a  phoenix  whom  he  has  not  shown 
us  where  to  find.*  In  general,  lie  seems 
to  underrate  the  difficulty  of  acquiring 
what  even  he  would  call  a  competent 
learning,  and  what  is  of  more  importance. 
and  no  rare  mistake  in  those  who  write 
on  this  subject,  to  confound  the  acquisition 
of  a  language  with  the  knowledge  of  its 
literature.  The  best  ancient  writers  both  j 
in  Greek  and  Latin  furnish  so  much  of  j 
wise  reflection,  of  noble  sentiment,  of  all 
that  is  IK  autiful  and  salutary,  that  no  one 
who  has  had  the  happiness  to  know  and 
feel  what  they  are,  will  desire  to  see  their 
study  excluded  or  stinted  in  its  just  ex- 
tent, wherever  the  education  of  those  who 
are  to  be  the  first  and  best  of  the  country 
is  carried  forward.  And  though  by  fai- 
th e  greater  portion  of  mankind  must,  by 
force  of  terms,  remain  in  the  ranks  of  in- 
tellectual mediocrity,  it  is  an  ominous  sign 
of  any  times  when  no  thought  is  taken  for 
those  who  may  rise  beyond  it. 

61.  In  every  other  part  of  instruction. 
Locke  has  still  an  eye  to  what  is  useful 
for  a  gentleman.     French  he  justly  thinks  ' 
should  be  taught  before  Latin  :  no  geom-  : 
etry  is  required  by  him  beyond  Euclid,  : 
but    lie  recommends  geography,  history  ; 
and  chronology,  drawing,  and,  what  may 
be  thought  now  as  little  necessary  for  a  , 
gentleman  as   Homer,  the  jurisprudence 
of  Grbtius  and  Puffendorf.     He  strongly 
urges  the  writing  English  well,  though  a 
thing    commonly    neglected :    and.    after 
speaking   with  contempt  of  the  artificial 
systems  of  logic  and  rhei  ds  .he 

pupil  to  Chillingworth  for  the  best  exam- 
ple of  reasoning,  and  to  Tuliy  for  the  best 
idea  of  eloquence.  "  And  let  him  read 
those  things  that  are  well  writ  in  K; 
to  perfect  his  style  in  the  purity  of  our 
language."! 

GQ.  Jt  would  be  to  transcribe  half  this 
treatise  were  we  to  mention  all  the  judi- 
cious and  minute  observations  on  the  man  , 
agement  of  children  it  contains.  What- 
ever may  have  been  Locke's  opportuni- 
ties, he  certainly  availed  himself  of  them 
lo  the  utmost.  It  is  as  far  as  possible 
from  a  theoretical  book  ;  and  in  many  re- 
spects, the  best  of  modern  times,  si, 
those  of  the  Eclgewonh  name,  might  pass 
for  developments  of  his  principles.  The 
patient  attention  to  every  circumstance,  a 
peculiar  characteristic  of  the  genius  of 
Locke,  is  in  none  of  his  works  better  dis- 


156. 


t  9  188. 


played.  His  rules  for  the  health  of  chil- 
dren, though  sometimes  trivial,  since  the 
subject  has  been  more  regarded :  his  ex- 
cellent  advice  as  to  checking  effeminacy 
and  timorousness ;  his  observations  on 
their  curiosity,  presumption,  idleness,  on 
their  plays  and  recreations,  bespeak  an  in- 
tense, though  calm,  love  of  truth  and  good- 
ness ;  a  quality  which  few  have  possessed 
more  fully,  or  known  so  well  how  to  ex- 
ert, as  this  admirable  philosopher. 

63.  No  one  had  condescended  to  spare 
any  thoughts  for  female  educa-  Feneion  o» 
tio'n,  till  Fenclon,  in  1688,  pub-  lemaie  edu 
lished  his  earliest  work,  Sur  c<  Ion' 
1'Education  dcs  t'illes.  This  was  the  oc- 
casion of  his  appointment  as  preceptor  to 
the  grandchildren  of  Louis  XIV.  ;  for 
much  of  this  treatise,  and  perhaps  the 
most  valuable  part,  is  equally  applicable 
to  both  sexes.  It  may  be  compared  with 
that  of  Locke,  written  nearly  at  the  same 
time,  and  bearing  a  great  resemblance  in 
its  spirit.  Both  have  the  education  of  a 
polished  and  high-bred  youth,  rather  than 
of  scholars,  before  them  ;  and  Fenelon 
rarely  loses  sight  of  his  peculiar  object, 
or  gives  any  rule  which  is  not  capable  of 
being  practised  in  female  education.  In 
many  respects  he  coincides  with  our  Eng- 
lish philosopher,  and  observes,  with  him, 
that  a  child  learns  much  before  he  speaks, 
so  that  the  cultiv.iliou  of  his  moral  quali- 
ties can  hardly  begin  too  soon.  Both 
complain  of  the  severity  of  parents,  and 
ite  the  mode  of  bringing  up  by  pun- 
ishment. Both  advise  the  exhibition  of 
virtue  and  religion  in  pleasing  lights,  and 
censure  the  austere  dogmatism  with  which 
they  were  inculcated,  before  the  mind  was 
sufficiently  developed  to  apprehend  them. 
Hut  the  characteristic  sweetness  of  Fene- 
lon's  disposition,  is  often  shown  in  con- 
unewhat  stern  inflexibility 
of  Locke.  His  theory  is  uniformly  indul- 
gent ;  his  method  of  education  is  a  labour 
of  love  :  a  desire  to  render  children  happy 
for  t;.  >  well  as  afterward,  yms 

h  his  book.  ;.:id  lie  may,  perhaps, 
cd  the  founder  of  that  school 
which  has  endeavoured  to  dissipate  the 
terrors  and  dry  the  tears  of  childhood.    •'  I 
-een,"  lie  says.  '•  many  children  who 
learned  to  read  in   j-h-y;  we  have 
only  to  read  entertaining  stories  to  them 
out  of  a  book,  and  insensibly  teach  them 
the  letters  :  they  will  soon  desire  to  go  for 
themselves  to  the  source  of  their  amuse- 
: looks  should  be   given    them 
well  bound  and  gilt,  with  good  engravings, 
clear  types;    for  all  that  captivates   the 
imagination  facilitates  study  ;  the  choice 
should  be  such  as  contain  short  and  mar- 


FROM  1650  TO  1700. 


353 


vellous  stories."  These  details  are  now 
trivial,  but  in  the  days  of  Fenelon  they 
may  have  been  otherwise. 

64.  In  several  passages  he  displays  not 
only  a  judicious  spirit,  but  an  observation 
that  must  have  been  long  exercised.    "Of 
all  the  qualities  we  perceive  in  children," 
he  remarks,  "  there  is  only  one  that  can 
be  trusted  as  likely  to  be  durable,  which 
is  sound  judgment ;  it  always  grows  with 
their  growth  if  it  is  well  cultivated ;  but 
the  grace  of  childhood  is  effaced ;  its  vi- 
vacity is  extinguished;  even  its  sensibility 
is  often  lost,  because  their  own  passions 
and  the  intercourse  of  others  insensibly 
harden  the  hearts  of  young  persons  who 
enter  into  the  world."     It  is  therefore  a 
solid  and  just  way  of  thinking  which  we 
should  most  value  and  most  improve,  and 
this  not  by  any  means  less  in  girls  than  in 
the  other  sex,  since  their  duties  and  the 
occupations  they  are  called  upon  to  fill  do 
not  less  require  it.     Hence  he  not  only 
deprecates  an  excessive  taste  for  dress, 
but,  with  more  originality,  points  out  the 
danger  of  that  extreme  delicacy  and  re- 
finement which  incapacitate  women  for  the 
ordinary  affairs  of  life,  and  give  them  a 
contempt  for  a  country  life  and  rural  econ- 
omy. 

65.  It  will  be  justly  thought,  at  present, 
that  he  discourages  too  much  the  acquisi- 
tion of  knowledge  by  women.     "  Keep 
their  minds,"  he  says  in  one  place,  "  as 
much  as  you  can  within  the  usual  limits, 
and  let  them  understand  that  the  modesty 
of  their  sex  ought  to  shrink  from  science 
with  almost  as  much  delicacy  as  from 
vice."     This  seems,  however,  to  be  con- 
fined to  science  or  philosophy  in  a  strict 
sense ;  for  he  permits  afterward  a  larger 
compass  of  reading.    Women  should  write 
a  good  hand,  understand  orthography  and 
the  four  rules  of  arithmetic,  which  they 
will  want  in  domestic  affairs.     To  these 
he  requires  a  close  attention,  and  even 
recommends  to  women  an  acquaintance 
with   some   of   the   common  forms   and 
maxims   of    law.      Greek,    Roman,    and 
French  history,  with  the  best  travels,  will 
be  valuable,  and  keep  them  from  seeking 
pernicious  fictions.     Books  also  of  elo- 
quence and  poetry  may  be  read  with  se- 
lection, taking  care  to  avoid  any  that  re- 
late to  love  ;  music  and  painting  may  be 
taught  with  the  same  precaution.     The 
Italian  and  Spanish  languages  are  of  no 
use  but  to   enlarge  their  knowledge  of 
dangerous  books  ;  Latin  is  better  as  the 
language  of  the  Church ;  but  this  he  would 
recommend  only  for  girls  of  good  sense 
and  discreet  conduct,  who  will  make  no 
display  of  the  acquisition. 

VOL.  II.— Y  T 


SECT.  II. — ON  POLITICAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

Puffendorf.  —  Spinosa.  —  Harrington's  Oceana.  — 

Locke  on  Government.— Political  Economy. 

66.  IN  the  seventh  book  of  Puffendorf 's 
'  great  work  he  comes  to  political  Pufft;ndorf,s 

philosophy,  towards  which  he  theory  of 
had  been  gradually  tending  for  P°litics- 
some  time  ;  primary  societies,  or  those  of 
families,  leading  the  way  to  the  consider- 
ation of  civil  government.  Grotius  de- 
rives the  origin  of  this  from  the  natural 
sociableness  of  mankind.  But  this,  as 
Puffendorf  remarks,  may  be  satisfied  by 
the  primary  societies.  The  real  cause 
was  experience  of  the  injuries  which  one 
man  can  inflict  on  another.*  And,  after 
a  prolix  disquisition,  he  concludes  that 
civil  society  must  have  been  constituted, 
first,  by  a  covenant  of  a  number  of  men, 
I  each  with  each,  to  form  a  commonwealth, 
and  to  be  bound  by  the  majority,  in  which 
primary  covenant  they  must  be  unani- 
mous, that  is,  every  dissentient  would  re- 
tain his  natural  liberty  ;  next,  by  a  resolu- 
tion or  decree  of  the  majority,  that  certain 
rulers  shall  govern  the  rest ;  and,  lastly, 
by  a  second  covenant  between  these  ru- 
lers and  the  rest,  one  promising  to  take 
care  of  the  public  weal,  and  the  other  to 
obey  lawful  commands. |  This  covenant, 
as  he  attempts  to  show,  exists  even  in  a 
democracy,  though  it  is  less  evident  than 
in  other  forms.  Hobbes  had  admitted  the 
first  of  these  covenants,  but  denied  the 
second ;  Barbeyrac,  the  able  commentator 
on  Puffendorf,  has  done  exactly  the  re- 
verse. A  state  once  formed  may  be  con- 
ceived to  exist  as  one  person,  with  a  sin- 
gle will,  represented  by  that  of  the  sover- 
eign, wherever  the  sovereignty  may  be 
placed.  This  sovereignty  is  founded  on 
the  covenants,  and  is  not  conferred,  ex- 
cept indirectly,  like  every  other  human 
power,  by  God.  Puffendorf  here  combats 
the  opposite  opinion,  which  churchmen 
were  as  prone  to  hold,  it  seems,  in  Ger- 
many as  in  England.J 

67.  The  legislative,  punitive,  and  judi- 
ciary powers,  those  of  making  war  and 
peace,  of  appointing  magistrates,  and  lev- 
ying taxes,  are  so  closely  connected  that 
no  one  can  be  denied  to  the  sovereign. 
As  to  his  right  in  ecclesiastical  matters, 
Puffendorf  leaves  it  for  others  to  deter- 
mine.§     He  seems,  in  this  part  of  the 
work,  too  favourable  to  unlimited  mon- 
archy, declaring  himself  against  a  mixed 

'  government.  The  sovereign  power  must 
be  irresponsible,  and  cannot  be  bound  by 
the  law  itself  has  given.  He  even  denies 
that  all  government  is  intended  for  the 


«  L.  vii.,c.  1.       tC.2. 


.  3.      $C.4. 


354 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


good  of  the  governed ;  a  position  strange- 
ly inconsistent  with  his  theory  of  a  cov- 
enant ;  but  if  it  were,  this  end,  the  public 
good,  may  be  more  probably  discerned  by 
the  prince  than  by  the  people.*  Yet  he 
admits  that  the  exorbitances  of  a  prince 
should  be  restrained  by  certain  funda- 
mental laws,  and  holds  that,  having  ac- 
cepted such,  and  ratified  them  by  oath,  he 
is  not  at  liberty  to  break  them ;  arguing, 
with  some  apparent  inconsistency,  against, 
those  who  maintain  such  limitations  to  be 
inconsistent  with  monarchy,  and  even  rec- 
ommending the  institution  of  councils, 
without  whose  consent  certain  acts  of  the 
sovereign  shall  not  be  valid.  This  can 
only  be  reconciled  with  his  former  decla- 
ration against  a  mixed  sovereignty,  by  the 
distinction  familiar  to  our  own  constitu- 
tional lawyers,  between  the  joint  acts  of 
A  and  B,  and  the  acts  of  A  with  B's  con- 
sent. But  this  is  a  little  too  technical  and 
unreal  for  philosophical  politics.*  Gov- 
ernments not  reducible  to  one  of  the  three 
simple  forms  he  calls  irregular;  such  as 
the  Roman  republic  or  German  empire. 
But  there  may  be  systems  of  states,  or 
aggregate  communities,  either  subject  to 
one  king  by  different  titles,  or  united  by 
federation.  He  inclines  to  deny  that  the 
majority  can  bind  the  minority  in  the  lat- 
ter case,  and  seems  to  take  it  for  granted 
that  some  of  the  confederates  can  quit  the 
league  at  pleasure.! 

68.  Sovereignty  over  persons  cannot  be 
acquired,  strictly  speaking,  by  seizure  or 
occupation,  as  in  the  case  of  lands,  and 
requires,  even  after  conquest,  their  con- 
sent to  obey ;  which  will  be  given,  in  or- 
der to  secure  themselves  from  the  other 
rights  of  war.  It  is  a  problem  whether, 
after  an  unjust  conquest,  the  forced  con- 
sent of  the  people  can  give  a  lawful  title 
to  sovereignty.  Puffendorf  distinguishes 
between  a  monarchy  and  a  republic  thus 
unjustly  subdued.  In  the  former  case,  so 
long  as  the  lawful  heirs  exist  or  preserve 
their  claim,  the  duty  of  restitution  contin- 
ues. But  in  the  latter,  as  the  people  may 
live  as  happily  under  a  monarchy  as  under 
a  republic,  he  thinks  that  a  usurper  has 
only  to  treat  them  well,  without  scruple 
as  to  his  title.  If  he  oppresses  them,  no 
course  of  years  will  make  his  title  lawful, 
or  bind  them  in  conscience  to  obey,  length 
of  possession  being  only  length  of  injury. 
If  a  sovereign  has  been  justly  divested  of 
his  power,  the  community  becomes  im- 
mediately free ;  but  if  by  unjust  rebellion, 
his  right  continues  till  by  silence  he  has 
appeared  to  abandon  it.J 


C.6. 


|C.  5. 


JC.7. 


69.  Every  one  will  agree  that  a  lawful 
ruler  must  not  be  opposed  within  the  lim- 
its of  his  authority.     But  let  us  put  the 
case  that  he  should  command  what  is  un- 
lawful, or  maltreat  his  subjects.     What- 
ever Hobbes  may  say,  a  subject  may  be 
injured  by  his  sovereign.     But  we  should 
bear  minor  injuries  patiently,  and,  in  the 
worst  cases,  avoid  personal  resistance. 
Those  are  not  to  be  listened  to  who  assert 
that  a  king,  degenerating  into  a  tyrant, 
may  be  resisted  and  punished  by  his  peo- 
ple.    He  admits  only  a  right  of  self-de- 
fence if  he  manifestly  becomes  a  public 
enemy :  in  all  this  he  seems  to  go  quite 
as   far  as   Grotius   himself.      The    next 
question  is  as  to  the  right  of  invaders  and 
usurpers  to  obedience.     This,  it  will  be 
observed,  he  had  already,  in  some  meas- 
ure, discussed ;  but  Puffendorf  is  neither 
strict  in  method  nor  free  from  repetitions. 
He  labours  much  about  the  rights  of  the 
lawful  prince  insisting  upon  them  where 
the  subjects  have  promised  allegiance  to 
the   usurper.     This,  he   thinks,  must  be 
deemed  temporary  until   the    legitimate 
sovereign  has  recovered  his  dominions. 
But  what  may  be  done  towards  this  end 
by  such  as  have  sworn  fidelity  to  the  ac- 
tual ruler  he  does  not  intimate.     It  is  one 
of  the  nicest  problems  in  political  casuis- 
try.* 

70.  Civil  laws  are  such  as  emanate  from 
the  supreme  power,  with  respect  to  things 
left  indifferent  by  the  laws  of  God  and  na- 
ture.    What  chiefly  belongs  to  them  is  the 
form  and  method  of  acquiring  rights  or  ob- 
taining redress  for  wrongs.     If  we  give 
the  law  of  nature  all  that  belongs  to  it,  and 
take  away  from  the  civilians  what  they 
have  hitherto  engrossed   and  promiscu- 
ously treated  of,  we  shall  bring  the  civil 
law  to  a  much  narrower  compass ;  not  to 
say  that  at  present,  whenever  the  civil  law 
is  deficient,  we  must  have  recourse  to  the 
law  of  nature,  and  that,  therefore,  in  all 
commonwealths,  the   natural   laws   sup- 
ply the  defects  of  the  civil.f    He  argues 
against  Hobbes's  tenet  that  the  civil  law 
cannot  be  contrary  to  the  law  of  nature  ; 
and  that  what  shall  be  deemed  theft,  mur- 
der, or  adultery,  depends  on  the  former. 
The  subject  is  bound  generally  not  to  obey 
the  unjust  commands  of  his  sovereign ; 
but  in  the  case  of  war,  he  thinks  it,  on  the 
whole,  safest,  considering  the  usual  diffi- 
culties of  such  questions,  that  the  subject 
should  serve,  and  throw  the  responsibility 
before  God  or  the  prince. {    In  this  prob- 
lem of  casuistry,  common  usage  is  wholly 
against  theory. 


*  C.  8. 


t  L.  viii.,  c.  1. 


Jlbid. 


FROM  1650  TO  1700. 


355 


71.  Punishment  may  be  defined  an  evil 
inflicted  by  authority  upon  view  of  ante- 
cedent transgression.*  Hence  exclusion, 
on  political  grounds,  from  public  office,  or 
separation  of  the  sick  for  the  sake  of  the 
healthy,  is  not  punishment.  It  does  not 
belong  to  distributive  justice,  nor  is  the 
magistrate  bound  to  apportion  it  to  the 
malignity  of  the  offence,  though  this  is 
usual.  Superior  authority  is  necessary  to 
punishment ;  and  he  differs  from  Grotius 
by  denying  that  we  have  a  right  to  avenge 
the  injuries  of  those  who  have  no  claim 
upon  us.  Punishment  ought  never  to  be 
inflicted  without  the  prospect  of  some  ad- 
vantage from  it ;  either  the  correction  of 
the  offender,  or  the  prevention  of  his  re- 
peating the  offence.  But  example  he 
seems  not  to  think  a  direct  end  of  punish- 
ment, though  it  should  be  regarded  in  its 
infliction.  It  is  not  necessary  that  all  of- 
fences which  the  law  denounces  should  be 
actually  punished,  though  some  jurists 
have  questioned  the  right  of  pardon.  Pun- 
ishments ought  to  be  measured  according 
to  the  object  of  the  crime,  the  injury  to  the 
commonwealth,  and  the  malice  of  the  de- 
linquent. Hence  offences  against  God 
should  be  deemed  most  criminal,  and  next, 
such  as  disturb  the  state ;  then  whatever 
affect  life,  the  peace  or  honour  of  families, 
private  property  or  reputation,  following 
the  scale  of  the  Decalogue.  But  though 
all  crimes  do  not  require  equal  severity, 
an  exact  proportion  of  penalties  is  not  re- 
quired. Most  of  this  chapter  exhibits  the 
vacillating,  indistinct,  and  almost  self-con- 
tradictory resolutions  of  difficulties  so  fre- 
quent in  Puffendorf.  He  concludes  by  es- 
tablishing a  great  truth,  that  no  man  can 
be  justly  punished  for  the  offence  of  anoth- 
er ;  not  even  a  community  for  the  acts  of 
their  forefathers,  notwithstanding  their 
fictitious  immortality.! 

72.  After  some  chapters  on  the  law  of 
nations,  Puffendorf  concludes   with  dis- 
cussing the  cessation  of  subjection.     This 
may  ordinarily  be  by  voluntarily  removing 
to  another  state  with  permission  of  the 
sovereign.     And  if  no  law  or  custom  in- 
terferes, the  subject  has  a  right  to  do  this 
at  his  discretion.     The  state  has  not  a 
right  to  expel  citizens  without  some  of- 
fence.    It  loses  all  authority  over  a  ban- 
ished man.     He  concludes  by  considering 
the  rare  case  of  so  great  a  diminution  of 
the  people  as  to  raise  a  doubt  of  their  po- 
litical identity.^ 

73.  The  political  portion  of  this  large 
Politics  of  work  is  not,  as  will  appear,  very 
spinosa.     fertiie  in  original  or  sagacious  re- 


*  C.  3. 


t  Ibid. 


C.  11,  12. 


flection.  A  great  degree  of  both,  though 
by  no  means  accompanied  with  a  sound 
theory,  distinguishes  the  Political  Trea- 
tise of  Spinosa,  one  which  must  not  be 
confounded  with  the  Theologico-political 
Treatise,  a  very  different  work.  In  this 
he  undertakes  to  show  how  a  state  under 
a  regal  or  aristocratic  government  ought 
to  be  constituted  so  as  to  secure  the 
tranquillity  and  freedom  of  the  citizens. 
Whether  Spinosa  borrowed  his  theory  on 
the  origin  of  government  from  Hobbes  is 
perhaps  hard  to  determine  :  he  seems  ac- 
quainted with  the  treatise  De  Cive  ;  but 
the  philosophical  system  of  both  was  such 
as,  in  minds  habituated  like  theirs  to  close 
reasoning,  could  not  lead  to  any  other  re- 
sult. Political  theory,  as  Spinosa  justly 
observes,  is  to  be  founded  on  our  experi- 
ence of  human  kind  as  it  is,  and  on  no  vis- 
ionary notions  of  a  Utopia  or  golden  age  ; 
and  hence  politicians  of  practical  knowl- 
edge have  written  better  on  these  subjects 
than  philosophers.  We  must  treat  of  men 
as  liable  to  passions,  prone  more  to  re- 
venge than  to  pity,  eager  to  rule  and  to 
compel  others  to  act  like  themselves,  more 
pleased  with  having  done  harm  to  oth- 
ers than  with  procuring  their  own  good. 
Hence  no  state  wherein  the  public  affairs 
are  intrusted  to  any  one's  good  faith  can 
be  secure  of  their  due  administration  ;  but 
means  should  be  devised  that  neither  rea- 
son nor  passion  should  induce  those  who 
govern  to  obstruct  the  public  weal ;  it  be- 
ing indifferent  by  what  motive  men  act  if 
they  can  be  brought  to  act  for  the  com- 
mon good. 

74.  Natural  law  is  the  same  as  natural 
power;  it  is  that  which  the  laws  of  na- 
ture, that  is,  the  order  of  the  world,  give  to 
each  individual.     Nothing  is  forbidden  by 
this  law  except  what  no  one  desires  or 
what  no  one  can  perform.     Thus  no  one 
is  bound  to  keep  the  faith  he  has  plighted 
any  longer  than  he  will,  and  than  he  judg- 
es it  useful  to  himself;  for  he  has  not  lost 
the  power  of  breaking  it,  and  power  is 
right  in  natural  law.     But  he  may  easily 
perceive  that  the  power  of  one  man  in  a 
state  of  nature  is  limited  by  that  of  all  the 
rest,  and,  in  effect,  is  reduced  to  nothing, 
all  men  being  naturally  enemies  to  each 
other;  while,  on  the  other  hand,  by  uni- 
ting their  force,  and  establishing  bounds  by 
common  consent  to  the  natural  powers  of 
each,  it  becomes  really  more  effective 
than  while  it  was  unlimited.    This  is  the 
principle  of  civil  government ;  and  now 
the  distinctions  of  just  and  unjust,  right 
and  wrong,  begin  to  appear. 

75.  The  right  of  the  supreme  magistrate 
is  nothing  but  the  collective  rights  of  the 


356 


citizens ;  that  is,  their  powers.  Neither 
he  nor  they  in  their  natural  state  ?an  do 
wrong ;  but,  after  the  institution  of  gov- 
ernment, each  citizen  may  do  wrong  by 
disobeying  the  magistrate ;  that,  in  fact, 
being  the  test  of  wrong.  He  has  not  to 
inquire  whether  the  commands  of  the  su- 
preme power  are  just  or  unjust,  pious  or 
impious ;  that  is,  as  to  action,  for  the 
state  has  no  jurisdiction  over  his  judgment. 

76.  Two  independent  states  are  natu- 
rally enemies,  and  may  make  war  on  each 
other  when  they  please.     If  they  make 
peace  or  alliance,  it  is  no  longer  binding 
than  the  cause,  that  is,  hope  or  fear  in  the 
contracting  parties,  shall  endure.     All  this 
is  founded  on  the  universal  law  of  nature, 
the  desire  of  preserving  ourselves  ;  which, 
whether  men  are  conscious  of  it  or  no,  an- 
imates all  their  actions.     Spinosa  in  this, 
as  in  his  other  writings,  is  more  fearless 
than  Hobbes,  and,  though  he  sometimes 
may  throw  a  light  veil  over  his  abjuration 
of  moral  and  religious  principle,  it  is  fre- 
quently placed  in  a  more  prominent  view 
than  his  English  precursor  in  the  same 
system  had  deemed  it  secure  to  advance. 
Yet  so  slight  is  often  the  connexion  be- 
tween theoretical  tenets  and  human  prac- 
tice, that  Spinosa  bore  the  character  of  a 
virtuous  and  benevolent  man.     We  do  not 
know,  indeed,  how  far  he  was  placed  in 
circumstances  to  put  his  fidelity  to  the 
test.     In  this  treatise  of  politics,  especial- 
ly in  the  broad  assertion  that  good  faith  is 
only  to  be  preserved  so  long  as  it  is  advan- 
tageous, he  leaves  Machiavel  and  Hobbes 
at  some  distance,  and  may  be  reckoned 
the  most  phlegmatically  impudent  of  the 
whole  school. 

77.  The  contract  or  fundamental  laws, 
he  proceeds,  according  to  which  the  mul- 
titude transfers  its  right  to  a  king  or  sen- 
ate, may  unquestionably  be  broken,  when 
it  is  advantageous  to  the  whole  to  do  so. 
But  Spinosa  denies  to  private  citizens  the 
right  of  judging  concerning  the  public  good 
in  such  a  point,  reserving,  apparently,  to 
the  supreme  magistrate  an  ultimate  power 
of  breaking  the  conditions  upon  which  he 
was  chosen.     Notwithstanding  this  dan- 
gerous  admission,   he   strongly  protests 
against  intrusting  absolute  power  to  any 
one  man ;  and  observes,  in  answer  to  the 
common  argument  of  the  stability  of  des- 
potism, as  in  the  instance  of  the  Turkish 
monarchy,  that  if  barbarism,  slavery,  and 
desolation  are  to  be  called  peace,  nothing 
can  be  more  wretched  than  peace  itself. 
Nor  is  this  sole  power  of  one  man  a  thing 
so  possible  as  we  imagine  ;  the  kings  who 
seem  most  despotic  trusting  the  public 
safety  and  their  own  to  counsellors  and 


favourites,  often  the  worst  and  weakest  in 
the  state. 

78.  He  next  proceeds  to  his   scheme 
of  a  well-regulated  monarchy,  His  theory  of 
which  is  in  some  measure  ori-  a  monarchy, 
ginal  and  ingenious.    The  people  are  to  be 
divided  into  families,  by  which  he  seems 
to   mean  something  like  the  Qparptai  of 
Attica.     From  each  of  these,  counsellors, 
fifty  years  of  age,  are  to  be  chosen  by  the 
king,  succeeding  in  a  rotation  quinquen- 
nial or  less,  so  as  to  form  a  numerous 
senate.     This  assembly  is  to  be  consulted 
upon  all  public  affairs,  and  the  king  is  to 
be  guided  by  its  unanimous  opinion.     In 
case,  however,  of  disagreement,  the  dif 
ferent  propositions  being  laid  before  the 
king,  he  may  choose  that  of  the  minority, 
provided  at  least  one  hundred  counsellors 
have  recommended  it.     The  less  remark- 
able provisions  of  this  ideal  polity  it  would 
be  waste  of  time  to  mention,  except  that 
he  advises  that  all  the  citizens  should  be 
armed  as  a  militia,  and  that  the*  principal 
towns  should  be  fortified,  and,  consequent- 
ly, as  it  seems,  in  their  power.     A  mon- 
archy thus  constituted  would  probably  not 
degenerate  into  the  despotic  form.     Spi- 
nosa appeals  to  the  ancient  government 
of  Aragon  as  a  proof  of  the  possibility  of 
carrying  his  theory  into  execution. 

79.  From  this  imaginary  monarchy  he 
comes  to  an  aristocratical  republic.     In 
this  he  seems  to  have  taken  Venice,  the 
idol  of  theoretical  politicians,  as  his  pri- 
mary model,  but  with  such  deviations  as 
affect  the  whole  scheme  of  government. 
He  objects  to  the  supremacy  of  an  elective 
doge,  justly  observing  that  the  precautions 
adopted  in  the  election  of  that  magistrate 
show  the  danger  of  the  office  itself,  which 
was  rather  retained  in  the  aristocratical 
polity  as  an  ancient  institution  than  from 
any  persuasion  of  its  usefulness.     But  the 
most  remarkable  discrepance  between  the 
aristocracy  of  Spinosa  and  that  of  Venice 
is  that  his  great  council,  which  ought,  as 
he  strongly  urges,  not  to  consist  of  less 
than  5000,  the  greatness  of  its  numbers 
being  the  only  safeguard  against  the  close 
oligarchy  of  a  few  families,  is  not  to  be 
hereditary,  but  its  vacancies  to  be  filled 
up  by  self-election.     In  this  election,  in- 
deed, he  considers  the  essence  of  aristoc- 
racy to  consist,  being,  as  is  implied  in  its 
meaning,  a  government  by  the  best,  who 
can  only  be  pronounced  such  by  the  choice 
of  many.     It  is  singular  that  he  never  ad- 
verts to  popular  representation,  of  which 
he  must  have  known  examples.     Democ- 
racy, on  the  contrary,  he  defines  to  be  a 
government  where  political  power  falls  to 
men  by  chance  of  birth,  or  by  some  means 


FROM  1650  TO  1700. 


which  has  rendered  them  citizens,  and 
who  can  claim  it  as  their  right  without  re- 
gard to  the  choice  of  others.  And  a  de- 
mocracy, according  to  Spinosa,  may  exist, 
if  the  law  should  limit  this  privilege  of 
power  to  the  seniors  in  age,  or  to  the  el- 
der branches  of  families,  or  to  those  who 
pay  a  certain  amount  in  taxation,  although 
the  numbers  enjoying  it  should  be  a  small- 
er portion  of  the  community  than  in  an 
aristocracy  of  the  form  he  has  recom- 
mended. His  treatise  breaks  off  near  the 
beginning  of  the  chapters  intended  to  de- 
lineate the  best  model  of  democracy,  which 
he  declares  to  be  one  wherein  all  persons, 
in  their  own  power,  and  not  infamous  by 
crime,  should  have  a  share  in  the  public 
government.  I  do  not  know  that  it  can 
be  inferred  from  the  writings  of  Spinosa, 
nor  is  his  authority,  perhaps,  sufficient  to 
render  the  question  of  any  interest,  to 
which  of  the  three  plans  devised  by  him, 
as  the  best  in  their  respective  forms,  he 
would  have  ascribed  the  preference. 

80.  The  condition  of  France  under  Louis 
Ameiot  de  la  XIV.  was  not  very  tempting  to 
Houssaye.     speculators  on  political  theory. 
Whatever  short  remarks  may  be  found  in 
those  excellent  writers  on  other  subjects 
who  distinguish  this  period,  we  can  select 
no  one  book  that  falls  readily  into  this 
class.     For  Telemaque  we  must  find  an- 
other place.     It  is  scarcely  worth  while 
to   mention   the   political  discourses   on 
Tacitus,  by  Ameiot  de  la  Houssaye.  These 
are  a  tedious  and  pedantic  running  com- 
mentary on  Tacitus,  affecting  to  deduce 
general  principles,  but  much  unlike  the 
short  and  poignant  observations  of  Machi- 
avel  and  Bacon.     A  whole  volume  on  the 
reign  alone   of  Tiberius,   and  printed  at 
Paris,  is  not  likely  to  repay  a  reader's 
trouble ;  at  least,  I  have  found  nothing  in 
it  above  the  common  level.     I  have  no 
acquaintance  with  the  other  political  wri- 
tings of  Ameiot  de  la  Houssaye,  one  of 
those  who  thought  they  could  make  great 
discoveries  by  analyzing  the  constitution 
of  Venice  and  other  states. 

81.  England,  thrown  at  the  commence- 
Harrington's  ment  of  this  period  upon  the  re- 
Oceana.        sources  of  her  own  invention  to 
replace  an  ancient  monarchy  by  something 
new,  and  rich  at  that  time  in  reflecting  as 
well  as  learned  men,  with  an  unshackled 
press,  and  a  growing  disdain  of  authority 
as  opposed  to  argument,  was  the  natural 
soil  of  political  theory.    The  earliest  fruit 
was  Sir  James  Harrington's  Oceana,  pub- 
lished in  1656.    This  once  famous  book  is 
a  political  allegory,  partly  suggested,  per- 
haps, by  the  Dodona's  Grove  of  Howell, 
or  by  Barclay's  Argenis,  and  a  few  other 


357 

fictions  of  the  preceding  age.  His  Oceana 
represents  England,  the  history  of  which 
is  shadowed  out  with  fictitious  names. 
But  this  is  preliminary  to  the  great  object, 
the  scheme  of  a  new  commonwealth, 
which,  under  the  auspices  of  Olphaus 
Megaletor,  the  lord  archon,  meaning,  of 
course,  Cromwell,  not  as  he  was,  but  as 
he  ought  to  have  been,  the  author  feigns 
to  have  been  established.  The  various 
laws  and  constitutions  of  this  polity  occupy 
the  whole  work. 

82.  The  leading  principle  of  Harrington 
is  that  power  depends  on  property;  deny- 
ing the  common  saying,  that  knowledge 
or  prudence  is  power.     But  this  property 
must  be  in  land,  "  because,  as  to  property 
producing  empire,  it  is  required  that  it 
should  have  some  certain  root  or  foothold, 
which,  except  in  land,  it  cannot  have,  being 
otherwise,   as  it  were,  upon   the   wing. 
Nevertheless,  in   such  cities  as   subsist 
mostly  by  trade,  and  have  little  or  no  land, 
as  Holland   and  Genoa,  the  balance   of 
treasure  may  be  equal  to  that  of  land."* 
The  law  fixing  the  balance  of  lands  is 
called  by  him  agrarian ;  and  without  an 
agrarian  law,  he  holds  that  no  government, 
whether  monarchical,  aristocratic,  or  popu- 
lar, has  any  long  duration :  this  is  rather 
paradoxical ;  but  his  distribution  of  lands 
varies  according  to  the  form  of  the  com- 
monwealth.    In  one  best  constituted  the 
possession  of  lands  is  limited  to  £2000  a 
year ;  which,  of  course,  in  his  time  was  a 
much  greater  estate  than  at  present. 

83.  Harrington's  general  scheme  of  a 
good  government  is  one  "  established  upon 
an  equal  agrarian  arising  into  the  super- 
structure, or  three  orders,  the  senate  de- 
bating and  proposing,  the  people  resolving, 
and  the  magistracy  executing  by  an  equal 
rotation  through  the  suffrage  of  the  people 
given  by  the  ballot."    His  more  particular 
form  of  polity,  devised  for  his  Oceana,  it 
would  be  tedious  to  give  in  detail ;  the  re- 
sult is  a  moderate  aristocracy;  property, 
though  under  the  control  of  his  agrarian, 
which  prevents  its  excess,  having  so  great 
a  share  in  the  elections  that  it  must  pre- 
dominate.    But  it   is   an  aristocracy   of 
what  we  should  call  the   middle   ranks, 
and  might  not  be  unfit  for  a  small  state. 
In  general  it  may  be  said  of  Harrington, 
that  he  is  prolix,  dull,  pedantic,  yet  seldom 
profound ;  but  sometimes  redeems  himself 
by  just  observations.    Like  most  theoreti- 
cal politicians  of  that  age,  he  had  an  ex- 
cessive   admiration   for   the   republic    of 
Venice.f    His  other  political  writings  are 


*  P.  38,  edit.  1771. 

t  "  If  I  be  worthy  to  give  advice  to  a  man  that 


358 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


in  the  same  spirit  as  the  Oceana,  but  still 
less  interesting. 

84.  The  manly  republicanism  of  Har- 
Patriarchaof  rington,  though  sometimes  vis- 
Fiimer.         ionary  and  perhaps  impractica- 
ble, shines  by  comparison  with  a  very  op- 
posite theory,  which,  having  been  coun- 
tenanced in  the  early  part  of  the  century 
by   our   clergy,   revived   with   additional 
favour  after  the  Restoration.     This  was 
maintained  in  the  Patriarcha  of  Sir  Robert 
Filmer,  written,  as  it  appears,  in  the  reign 
of  Charles  I.,  but  not  published  till  1680, 
at  a  time  when  very  high  notions  of  royal 
prerogative  were  as  well  received  by  one 
faction  as  they  were  indignantly  rejected 
by  another.     The  object,  as   the  author 
declares,  was  to  prove  that  the  first  kings 
were  fathers  of  families ;  that  it  is  un- 
natural for  the  people  to  govern  or  to 
choose  governors ;  that  positive  laws  do 
not  infringe  the  natural  and  fatherly  power 
of  kings.     He  refers  the  tenet  of  natural 
liberty  and  the  popular  origin  of  govern- 
ment to  the  schoolmen,  allowing  that  all 
papists  and  the  reformed  divines  have  im- 
bibed it,  but  denying  that  it  is  found  in  the 
fathers.     He  seems,  indeed,  to  claim  the 
credit  of  an  original  hypothesis ;   those 
who  have  vindicated  the  rights  of  kings  in 
most  points  not  having  thought  of  this, 
but  with  one  consent  admitted  the  natural 
liberty  and  equality  of  mankind.     It  is 
certain,  nevertheless,  that  the  patriarchal 
theory  of  government  as  the  basis  of  actual 
right  was  laid  down  as  explicitly  as  by 
himself  in  what  is  called  Bishop  Overall's 
Convocation  Book,  at  the  beginning  of  the 
reign  of  James  I.     But  this  book  had  not 
been  published  when  Filmer  wrote.     His 
arguments  are  singularly  insufficient ;  he 
quotes  nothing  but  a  few  irrelevant  texts 
from  Genesis ;  he  seems  not  to  have  known 
at  all  the  strength,  whatever  it  may  be,  of 
his  own  case,  and  it  is  hardly  possible  to 
find  a  more  trifling  and  feeble  work.     It 
had,  however,  the  advantage  of  opportunity 
to  be  received  by  a  party  with  approbation. 

85.  Algernon  Sidney  was  the  first  who 
Sidney's  Dis-  devoted  his  time  to  a  refutation 

courses  on  of  this  patriarchal  theory,  pro- 
Government.  pounded  as  it  W3S)  not  as  a  piau- 

sible  hypothesis  to  explain  the  origin  of 
civil  communities,  but  as  a  paramount 
title,  by  virtue  of  which  all  actual  sover- 
eigns, who  were  not  manifest  usurpers, 
were  to  reign  with  an  unmitigated  despo- 
tism. Sidney's  Discourses  on  Govern- 


would  study  politics,  let  him  understand  Venice ; 
he  that  understands  Venice  right  shall  go  nearest  to 
judge,  notwithstanding  the  difference  that  is  in 
every  policy,  right  of  any  government  in  the  world." 
—Works,  p.  292. 


ment,  not  published  till  1698,  are  a  diffuse 
reply  to  Filmer.  They  contain,  indeed, 
many  chapters  full  of  historical  learning 
and  judicious  reflection  ;  yet  the  constant 
anxiety  to  refute  that  which  needs  no 
refutation  renders  them  a  little  tedious. 
Sidney  does  not  condemn  a  limited  mon- 
archy like  the  English,  but  his  partiality 
is  for  a  form  of  republic  which  would  be 
deemed  too  aristocratical  for  our  popular 
theories. 

86.  Locke,  immediately  after  the  rev- 
olution,  attacked  the   Patriarcha  j^e  o» 
with  more  brevity,  and  laid  down  Govern- 
his  own  celebrated  theory  of  gov-  ment- 
ernment.     The  fundamental  principle  of 
Filmer  is,  that  paternal  authority  is  nat- 
urally absolute.     Adam  received  it  from 
God,  exercised  it  over  his  own  children, 
and  transmitted  it  to  the  eldest  born  for 
ever.     This   assumption  Locke  combats 
rather  too  diffusely  according  to  our  no- 
tions.    Filmer  had  not  only  to  show  this 
absolute  monarchy  of  a  lineal  ancestor, 
but  his  power  of  transmitting  it  in  course 
of    primogeniture.      Locke    denies    thai 
there  is  any  natural  right  of  this  kind, 
maintaining  the  equality  of  children.    The 
incapacity  of  Filmer  renders  his  discomfi- 
ture not  difficult.     Locke,  as  will  be  seen, 
acknowledges  a  certain  de  facto  authority 
in   fathers  of  families,   and  possibly  he 
might  have  found,  as  indeed  he  seems  to 
admit,  considerable  traces  of  a  regard  to 
primogeniture  in  the  early  ages  of  the 
world.     It  is  the  question  of  natural  right 
with  which  he  is  here  concerned ;  and  as 
no  proof  of  this  had  been  offered,  he  had 
nothing  to  answer. 

87.  In  the  second  part  of  Locke's  Trea- 
tise on  Civil  Government,  he  proceeds  to 
lay  down  what  he  holds  to  be  the  true 
principles  upon  which  society  is  founded. 
A  state  of  nature  is  a  state  of  perfect  free- 
dom and  equality,  but  within  the  bounds  of 
the  law  of  nature,  which  obliges  every  one, 
and  renders  a  state  of  liberty  no  state  of 
license.     And  the  execution  of  this  law,  in 
such  a  state,  is  put  into  everyone's  hands, 
so    that    he    may   punish    transgressors 
against  it,  not  merely  by  way  of  repara- 
tion for  his  own  wrongs,  but  for  those  of 
others.     "  Every  offence  that  can  be  com- 
mitted in  the  state  of  nature  may,  in  the 
state  of  nature,  be  punished  equally,  and 
as    far  forth,  as   it  may  in  a   common- 
wealth."    And  not  only  independent  com- 
munities, but  all  men,  as  he  thinks,  till 
they  voluntarily  enter  into  some  society, 
are  in  a  state  of  nature.* 

88.  Whoever  declares  by  word  or  ac- 


*  L.  ii.,  c.  2. 


FROM  1650  TO  1700. 


359 


tion  a  settled  design  against  another's  life, 
puts  himself  in  a  state  of  war  against 
him,  and  exposes  his  own  life  to  be  taken 
away,  either  by  the  other  party  or  by  any 
one  who  shall  espouse  his  cause.  And 
he  who  endeavours  to  obtain  absolute 
power  over  another,  may  be  construed  to 
have  a  design  on  his  life,  or,  at  least,  to 
take  away  his  property.  Where  laws  pre- 
vail, they  must  determine  the  punishment 
of  those  who  injure  others  ;  but  if  the  law 
is  silenced,  it  is  hard  to  think  but  that  the 
appeal  to  Heaven  returns,  and  the  aggres- 
sor may  be  treated  as  one  in  a  state  of 
war.* 

89.  Natural  liberty  is  freedom  from  any 
superior  power  except  the  law  of  nature. 
Civil  liberty  is  freedom  from  the  dominion 


going  pages.  It  is  no  less  contrasted  with 
the  puerile  rant  of  Rousseau  against  all 
territorial  property.  That  property  owes 
its  origin  to  occupancy  accompanied  with 
labour,  is  now  generally  admitted;  the 
care  of  cattle  being  of  course  to  be  con- 
sidered as  one  species  of  labour,  and  re- 
quiring at  least  a  temporary  ownership  of 
the  soil.* 

91.  Locke,  after  acutely  remarking  that 
the  common  arguments  for  the  power  of 
a  father  over  his  children  would  extend 
equally  to  the  mother,  so  that  it  should  be 
called  parental  power,  reverts  to  the  train 
of  reasoning  in  the  first  book  of  this  trea- 
tise against  the  regal  authority  of  fathers. 
What  they  possess  is  not  derived  from 
generation,  but  from  the  care  they  neces- 


of  any  authority  except  that  which  alegis-  i  sarily  take  of  the  infant  child,  and  during 
lature,  established  by  consent  of  the  com-   his  minority  ;  the  power  then  terminates, 
monwealth,  shall  confirm.     No  man,  ac-    though  reverence,  support,  arid  even  corn- 
cording  to  Locke,  cai;  by  his  own  consent 
enslave  himself,  or  give  power  to  another 
to  take  away  his  life.     For  slavery,  in  a 
strict  sense,  is  but  a  continuance  of  the 
state  of  war  between  a  conqueror  and  his 
captive,  f 

90.  The  excellent  chapter  on  property 
which  follows  would  be  sufficient,  if  all 
Locke's  other  writings  had  perished,  to 
leave  him  a  high  name  in  philosophy. 
Nothing  can  be  more  luminous  than  his 
deduction  of  the  natural  right  of  property 
from  labour,  not  merely  in  gathering  the 
fruits  of  the  earth,  or  catching  wild  an- 
imals, but  in  the  cultivation  of  land,  for 
which  occupancy  is  but  the  preliminary, 
and  gives,  as  it  were,  an  incoherent  title. 
"As  much  land  as  a  man  tills,  plants,  im- 
proves, cultivates,  and  can  use  the  pro- 
duct of,  so  much  is  his  property.  He  by 
his  labour  does,  as  it  were,  enclose  it  from 
the  common."  Whatever  is  beyond  the 
scanty  limits  of  individual  or  family  la- 
bour, has  been  appropriated  under  the  au- 
thority of  civil  society.  But  labour  is  the 
primary  basis  of  natural  right.  Nor  can 
it  be  thought  unreasonable  that  labour 
should  confer  an  exclusive  right,  when  it 
is  remembered  how  much  of  everything's 


value  depends  upon  labour  alone, 
ever  bread  is  more  worth  than 


•  What- 
acorns, 


wine  than  water,  and  cloth  or  silk  than 
leaves,  skins,  or  moss,  that  is  wholly  ow- 
ing to  labour  and  industry."  The  superi- 
ority in  good  sense  and  satisfactory  eluci- 
dation of  his  principle,  which  Locke  has 
manifested  in  this  important  chapter  over 
Grotius  and  Puffendorf,  will  strike  those 
who  consult  those  writers,  or  look  at  the 


pliance  are  still  due.  Children  are  also 
held  in  subordination  to  their  parents  by 
the  institutions  of  property,  which  com- 
monly make  them  dependant  both  as  to 
maintenance  and  succession.  But  Locke, 
which  is  worthy  to  be  remarked,  inclines 
to  derive  the  origin  of  civil  government 
from  the  patriarchal  authority ;  one  not 
strictly  coercive,  yet  voluntarily  conceded 
by  habit  and  family  consent.  "  Thus  the 
natural  fathers  of  families,  by  an  insensi- 
ble change,  became  the  politic  monarchs 
of  them  too ;  and  as  they  chanced  to  live 
long,  and  leave  worthy  and  able  heirs  for 
several  successions  or  otherwise,  so  they 
laid  the  foundations  of  hereditary  or  elec- 
tive kingdoms."! 

92.  The  necessity  that  man  should  not 
live  alone  produced  the  primary  society 
of  husband  and  wife,  parent  and  children, 
to  which  that  of  master  and  servant  was 
early  added ;  whether  of  freemen  enga- 
ging their  service  for  hire,  or  of  slaves  ta- 
ken in  just  war,  who  are  by  the  right  of 
nature  subject  to  the  absolute  dominion 
of  the  captor.  Such  a  family  may  some- 
times resemble  a  little  commonwealth  by 
its  numbers,  but  is  essentially  distinct 
from  one,  because  its  chief  has  no  impe- 
rial power  of  life  and  death  except  over 
his  slaves,  nature  having  given  him  none 
over  his  children,  though  all  men  have  a 
right  to  punish  breaches  of  the  law  of  na- 
ture in  others  according  to  the  offence. 
But  this  natural  power  they  quit  and  re- 
sign into  the  hands  of  the  community 
when  civil  society  is  instituted  ;  and  it  is 
in  this  union  of  the  several  rights  of  its 
members  that  the  legislative  right  of  the 


brief  sketch  of  their  theories  in  the  fore-   commonwealth  consists,  whether  this  be 


*  C.  3. 

t  C.4. 

*  C.  5. 

t  C.  6. 

360 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


done  by  general  consent  at  the  first  for- 
mation of  government,  or  by  the  adhesion 
which  any  individual  may  give  to  one  al- 
ready established.  By  either  of  these 
ways  men  pass  from  a  state  of  nature  to 
one  of  political  society,  the  magistrate 
having  now  that  power  to  redress  injuries 
which  had  previously  been  each  man's 
right.  Hence  absolute  monarchy,  in 
Locke's  opinion,  is  no  form  of  civil  gov- 
ernment; for,  there  being  no  common 
authority  to  appeal  to,  the  sovereign  is 
still  in  a  state  of  nature  with  regard  to  his 
subjects.* 

93.  A  community  is  formed    by  the 
unanimous  consent  of  any  body  of  men  ; 
but,  when  thus  become  one  body,  the  de- 
termination of  the  majority  must  bind  the 
rest,  else  it  would  not  be  one.     Unanimi- 
ty, after  a  community  is  once  formed,  can 
no  longer  be  required ;  but  this  consent  of 
men  to  form  a  civil  society  is  that  which 
alone  did  or  could  give  beginning  to  any 
lawful  government  in  the  wofld.     It  is 
idle  to  object  that  we  have  no  records  of 
such  an  event ;  for  few  commonwealths 
preserve  the  tradition  of  their  own  infan- 
cy ;  and  whatever  we  do  know  of  the  ori- 
gin of  particular  states  gives  indications 
of  this  mode  of  union.     Yet  he  again  in- 
clines to  deduce  the  usual  origin  of  civil 
societies  from  imitation  of  patriarchal  au- 
thority, which,  having  been  recognised  by 
each  family  in  the.  arbitration  of  disputes, 
and   even  punishment  of  offences,  was 
transferred  with  more  readiness  to  some 
one  person,  as  the  father  and  representa- 
tive head  of  the  infant  community.     He 
even  admits  that  this  authority  might  ta- 
citly devolve  upon  the  eldest  son.    Thus 
the  first  governments  were  monarchies, 
and  those  with  no  express  limitations  of 
power,  till  exposure  of  its  abuse  gave  oc- 
casion to  social  laws  or  to  co-ordinate 
authority.     In  all  this  he  follows  Hooker, 
from  the  first  book  of  whose  Ecclesiasti- 
cal Polity  he  quotes  largely  in  his  notes. f 

94.  A  difficulty  commonly  raised  against 
the  theory  of  compact  is,  that  all  men  be- 
ing born  under  some  government,  they 
cannot  be  at  liberty  to  erect  a  new  one, 
or  even  to  make  choice  whether  they  will 
obey  or  no.     This  objection  Locke  does 
not  meet,  like  Hooker  and  the  jurists,  by 
supposing  the  agreement  of  a  distant  an- 
cestor to  oblige  all  his  posterity.     But, 
explicitly  acknowledging  that  nothing  can 
bind  freemen  to  obey  any  government 
save  their  own  consent,  he  rests  the  evi- 
dence of  a  tacit  consent  on  the  enjoyment 
of  land,  or  even  on  mere  residence  within 


the  dominions  of  the  community ;  every 
man  being  at  liberty  to  relinquish  his  pos- 
sessions or  change  his  residence,  and  ei- 
ther incorporate  himself  with  another 
commonwealth,  or,  if  he  can  find  an  op- 
portunity, set  up  for  himself  in  some  un- 
occupied part  of  the  world.  But  nothing 
can  make  a  man  irrevocably  a  member 
of  one  society  except  his  own  voluntary 
declaration ;  such,  perhaps,  as  the  oath  of 
allegiance,  which  Locke  does  not  men- 
tion, ought  to  be  reckoned.* 

95.  The  majority  having,  in  the  first 
constitution  of  a  state,  the  whole  power, 
may  retain  it  themselves,  or  delegate  it  to 
one  or  more  persons. f     And  the  supreme 
power  is,  in  other  words,  the  legislature, 
sacred  and  unalterable  in  the  hands  where 
the  community  have  once  placed  it,  with- 
out which  no  law  can  exist,  and  in  which 
all  obedience  terminates.     Yet  this  legis- 
lative authority  itself  is  not  absolute  or 
arbitrary  over  the  lives  and  fortunes  of  its 
subjects.     It  is  the  joint  power  of  individ- 
uals surrendered  to  the  state  ;  but  no  man 
has  power  over  his  own  life  or  his  neigh- 
bour's property.     The  laws  enacted  by 
the  legislature  must  be  conformable  to  the 
will  of  God  or  natural  justice.     Nor  can 
it  take  any  part  of  the  subject's  property 
without  his  own  consent  or  that  of  the 
majority.     "  For  if  any  one  shall  claim  a 
power  to  lay  and  levy  taxes  on  the  people 
by  his  own  authority  and  without  such 
consent  of  the  people,  he  thereby  invades 
the  fundamental  law  of  property,  and  sub- 
verts the  end  of  government.     For  what 
property  have  I  in  that  which  another  may 
by  right  take,  when  he  pleases,  to  him- 
self?"    Lastly,  the   legislative  power  is 
inalienable  ;  being  but  delegated  from  the 
people,  it  cannot  be  transferred  to  others.  J 
This  is  the  part  of  Locke's  treatise  which 
has   been   open   to    most  objection,  and 
which,  in  some  measure,  seems  to  charge 
with  usurpation  all  the  established  gov- 
ernments of  Europe.     It  has  been  a  theo- 
ry fertile  of  great  revolutions,  and  per- 
haps pregnant  with  more.     In  some  part 
of  this  chapter  also,  though  by  no  means 
in  the  most  practical  corollaries,  the  lan- 
guage of  Hooker  has  led  onward  his  more 
hardy  disciple. 

96.  Though   the  legislative    power    is 
alone  supreme  in  the  constitution,  it  is 
yet  subject  to  the  people  themselves,  who 
may  alter  it  whenever  they  find  that  it 
acts  against  the  trust  reposed  in  it ;  all 
power  given  in  trust  for  a  particular  end 
being  evidently  forfeited  when  that  end 
is  manifestly  disregarded  or  obstructed. 


•C.  7. 


tC.8. 


*  c.  e. 


t  c.  10. 


\  c.  11. 


FROM  1650  TO  1700. 


361 


But  while  the  government  subsists  the 
legislature  is  alone  sovereign,  though  it 
may  be  the  usage  to  call  a  single  execu- 
tive magistrate  a  sovereign,  if  he  has  also 
a  share  in  legislation.  Where  this  is  not 
the  case,  the  appellation  is  plainly  im- 
proper. Locke  has  in  this  chapter  a  re- 
markable passage  ;  one,  perhaps,  of  the 
first  declarations  in  favour  of  a  change 
in  the  electoral  system  of  England.  "  To 
what  gross  absurdities  the  following  of 
custom,  when  reason  has  left  it,  may  lead, 
we  may  be  satisfied  when  we  see  the  bare 
name  of  a  town,  of  which  there  remains 
not  so  much  as  the  ruins ;  where  scarce 
so  much  housing  as  a  sheepcote,  or  more 
inhabitants  than  a  shepherd  is  to  be  found, 
send  as  many  representatives  to  the  grand 
assembly  of  lawmakers  as  a  whole  coun- 
ty, numerous  in  people,  and  powerful  in 
riches.  This  strangers  stand  amazed  at, 
and,  every  one  must  confess,  needs  a  rem- 
edy, though  most  think  it  hard  to  find 
one,  because  the  constitution  of  the  legis- 
lative being  the  original  and  supreme  act 
of  the  society,  antecedent  to  all  positive 
laws  in  it,  and  depending  wholly  on  the 
people,  no  inferior  power  can  alter  it." 
But  Locke  is  less  timid  about  a  remedy, 
and  suggests  that  the  executive  magis- 
trate might  regulate  the  number  of  repre- 
sentatives, not  according  to  old  custom, 
but  reason ;  which  is  not  setting  up  a  new 
legislature,  but  restoring  an  old  one. 
"  Whatsoever  shall  be  done  manifestly 
for  the  good  of  the  people  and  the  estab- 
lishing the  government  on  its  true  found- 
ation, is,  and  always  will  be,  just  preroga- 
tive ;"*  a  maxim  of  too  dangerous  lati- 
tude for  a  constitutional  monarchy. 

97.  Prerogative  he  defines  to  be   "  a 
power  of  acting  according  to  discretion 
for  the  public  good  without  the  prescrip- 
tion  of  the   law,   and   sometimes   even 
against  it."    This,  however,  is  not  by  any 
means  a  good  definition  in  the  eyes  of  a 
lawyer  ;  and  the  word,  being  merely  tech- 
nical, ought  not  to  have  been  employed  in 
so  partial,  if  not  so  incorrect,  a  sense. 
Nor  is  it  very  precise  to  say  that  in  Eng- 
land the  prerogative  was  always  largest 
in  the  hands  of  our  wisest  and  best  princes, 
not  only  because  the  fact  is  otherwise,  but 
because  he  confounds  the  legal  preroga- 
tive with  its  actual  exercise.     This  chap- 
ter is  the  most  loosely  reasoned  of  any  in 
the  treatise.f 

98.  Conquest,  in  an  unjust  war,  can  give 
no  right  at  all,  unless  robbers  and  pirates 
may  acquire  a  right.    Nor  is  any  one  bound 
by  promises  which  unjust  force  extorts 


from  him.  If  we  are  not  strong  enough 
to  resist,  we  have  no  remedy  save  pa- 
tience ;  but  our  children  may  appeal  to 
Heaven,  and  repeat  their  appeals  till  they 
recover  their  ancestral  rights,  which  was 
to  be  governed  by  such  a  legislation  as 
themselves  approve.  He  that  appeals  to 
Heaven  must  be  sure  that  he  has  right  on 
his  side,  and  right,  top,  that  is  worth  the 
trouble  and  cost  of  his  appeal,  as  he  will 
answer  at  a  tribunal  that  cannot  be  de- 
ceived. Even  just  conquest  gives  no  far- 
ther right  than  to  reparation  of  injury .; 
and  the  posterity  of  the  vanquished,  he 
seems  to  hold,  can  forfeit  nothing  by  then 
parent's  offence,  so  that  they  have  alwayj. 
a  right  to  throw  off  the  yoke.  The  title 
of  prescription,  which  has  commonly  been 
admitted  to  silence  the  complaints,  if  not 
to  heal  the  wounds,  of  the  injured,  finds 
no  favour  with  Locke.*  And  hence  it 
seems  that  no  state  composed,  as  most 
have  been,  out  of  the  spoils  of  conquest, 
can  exercise  a  legitimate  authority  over 
the  latest  posterity  of  those  it  has  incor- 
porated. Wales,  for  instance,  has  an  eter 
nal  right  to  shake  off  the  yoke  of  Eng 
land  ;  for  what  Locke  says  of  consent  to 
laws  by  representatives  is  of  little  weight 
when  these  must  be  outnumbered  in  the 
general  legislature  of  both  countries  ;  and, 
indeed,  the  first  question  for  the  Cambro- 
Britons  would  be  to  determine  whether 
they  would  form  part  of  such  a  common 
legislation. 

99.  Usurpation,  which  is  a  kind  of  do- 
mestic conquest,  gives  no  more  right  to 
obedience  than  unjust  war;  it  is  necessary 
that  the  people  should  both  be  at  liberty  to 
consent,  and  have  actually  consented  to 
allow  and  confirm  a  power  which  the  con- 
stitution of  their  commonwealth  does  not 
recognise.f  But  tyranny  may  exist  with- 
out usurpation,  whenever  the  power  re- 
posed in  any  one's  hands  for  the  people's 
benefit  is  abused  to  their  impoverishment 
or  slavery.  Force  may  never  be  opposed 
but  to  unjust  and  unlawful  force  ;  in  any 
other  case,  it  is  condemned  before  God 
and  man.  The  king's  person"  is  in  some 
countries  sacred  by  law  ;  but  this,  as 
Locke  thinks,  does  not  extend  to  the  case 
where,  by  putting  himself  in  a  state  of 
war  with  his  people,  he  dissolves  the  gov- 
ernment.J  A  prince  dissolves  the  govern- 
ment by  ruling  against  law,  by  hindering 
the  regular  assembly  of  the  legislature, 
by  changing  the  form  of  election,  or  by 
rendering  the  people  subject  to  a  foreign 
power.  He  dissolves  it  also  by  neglect- 
ing or  abandoning  it,  so  that  the  laws  can 


*  C.  13. 
VOL.  II.— Z  z 


t  c.  u. 


C.  16. 


t  C.  17. 


C.  18 


362 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


not  be  put  into  execution.  The  govern- 
ment is  also  dissolved  by  breach  of  trust 
iu  either  the  legislature  or  the  prince  ;  by 
the  former,  when  it  usurps  an  arbitrary 
power  over  the  lives,  liberties,  and  for- 
tunes of  the  subject ;  by  the  latter,  when 
he  endeavours  to  corrupt  the  representa- 
tives, or  to  influence  the  choice  of  the 
electors.  If  it  be  objected  that  no  gov- 
ernment will  be  able  long  to  subsist  if  the 
people  may  set  up  a  new  legislature  when- 
ever they  take  offence  at  the  old  one,  he 
replies  that  mankind  are  too  slow  and 
averse  to  quit  their  old  institutions  for 
this  danger  to  be  apprehended.  Much 
will  be  endured  from  rulers  without  mu- 
tiny or  murmur.  Nor  is  anything  more 
likely  to  restrain  governments  than  this 
doctrine  of  the  right  of  resistance.  It  is 
as  reasonable  to  tell  men  they  should  not 
defend  themselves  against  robbers,  be- 
cause it  may  occasion  disorder,  as  to  use 
the  same  argument  for  passive  obedience 
to  illegal  dominion.  And  he  observes,  af- 
ter quoting  some  other  writers,  that  Hook- 
er alone  might  be  enough  to  satisfy  those 
who  rely  on  him  for  their  ecclesiastical 
polity.* 

100.  Such  is,  in  substance,  the  cele- 
Observations  brated  treatise  of  Locke  on  civil 
on  tun  trea-  government,  which,  with  the  fa- 
vour of  political  circumstances 
and  the  authority  of  his  name,  became  the 
creed  of  a  numerous  party  at  home  ;  while 
silently  spreading  the  fibres  from  its  roots 
over  Europe  and  America,  it  prepared  the 
way  for  theories  of  political  society,  hard- 
ly bolder  in  their  announcement,  but  ex- 
pressed with  more  passionate  ardour,  from 
which  the  great  revolutions  of  the  last  and 
present  age  have  sprung.  But  as  we  do 
not.  launch  our  bark  upon  a  stormy  sea, 
we  shall  merely  observe  that  neither  the 
Revolution  of  1688,  nor  the  administration 
of  William  III.,  could  have  borne  the  test 
by  which  Locke  has  tried  the  legitimacy 
of  government.  There  was  certainly  no 
appeal  to  the  people  in  the  former,  nor 
would  it  have  been  convenient  for  the  lat- 
ter to  have  «had  the  maxim  established, 
that  an  attempt  to  corrupt  the  legislature 
entails  a  forfeiture  of  the  intrusted  power. 
Whether  the  opinion  of  Locke,  that  man- 
kind are  slow  to  political  change,  be  con- 
formable to  an  enlarged  experience,  must 
be  judged  by  every  one  according  to  his 
reading  and  observation ;  it  is,  at  least, 
very  different  from  that  which  Hooker,  to 
whom  he  defers  so  greatly  in  most  of  his 
doctrine,  has  uttered  in  the  very  first  sen- 
tence of  his  Ecclesiastical  Polity.  For  my 


*  C.  19. 


own  part  I  must  confess,  that  in  these  lat 
ter  chapters  of  Locke  on  Government  I 
see,  what  sometimes  appears  in  his  other 
writings,  that  the  influence  of  temporary 
circumstances  on  a  mind  a  little  too  sus- 
ceptible of  passion  and  resentment,  had 
prevented  that  cairn  and  patient  examina- 
tion of  all  the  bearings  of  this  extensive 
subject  which  true  philosophy  requires. 

101.  But,  whatever  may  be  our  judgment 
of  this  work,  it  is  equally  true  that  it  open- 
ed a  new  era  of  political  opinion  in  Eu- 
rope.    The  earlier  writings  on  the  side  of 
popular  sovereignty,  whether  those  of  Bu- 
chanan and  Languet,  of  the  Jesuits,  or  of 
the  English  republicans,  had  been  either 
too  closely  dependant  on  temporary  cir- 
cumstances, or  too  much  bound  up  with 
odious  and  unsuccessful  factions,  to  sink 
very  deep  into   the  hearts   of  mankind. 
Their  adversaries,  with  the  countenance 
of  every  government  on  their  side,  kept 
possession  of  the  field ;  and  neither  jurist, 
nor  theologian,  nor  philosopher  on  the 
Continent,  while  they  generally  followed 
their  predecessors  in  deriving  the  origin 
of  civil  society  from  compact,  ventured  to 
meet  the  delicate  problem  of  resistance  to 
tyranny,  or  of  the  right  to  reform  a  con- 
stitution, except  in  the  most  cautious  and 
indefinite  language.     We  have  seen  this 
already  in  Grotius  and  Puffendorf.     But 
the   success  of  the    English  Revolution; 
the  necessity   which  the   powers   allied 
against  France  found  of  maintaining  the 
title  of  William  ;  the  peculiar  interest  of 
Holland  and  Hanover,  states  at  that  time 
very  strong  in  the  literary  world,  in  our 
new  scheme  of  government,  gave  a  weight 
and  authority  to  principles  which,  with- 
out some  such  application,  it  might  still 
have  been  thought  seditious  to  propound. 
Locke,  too,  long  an  exile  in  Holland,  was 
intimate   with  Le  Clerc,  who  exerted  a 
considerable  influence  over  the  Protestant 
part   of  Europe.     Barbeyrac,  some  time 
afterward,  trod  nearly  in  the  same  steps, 
and,  without  going  all  the  lengths  of  Locke, 
did  not  fail  to  take  a  very  different  tone 
from  the  two  older  writers  upon  whom  he 
has  commented. 

102.  It  was  very  natural  that  the  French 
Protestants,  among  whom  tradi-  Avis  aux 
tions  of  a  turn  of  thinking  not  the  Refus^z, 
most  favourable  to  kings  may  have  ^r^p,|e 
been  preserved,  should,  in  the  hour 

of  severe  persecution,  mutiny  in  words 
and  writings  against  the  despotism  that 
oppressed  them.  Such,  it  appears,  had 
been  the  language  of  those  exiles,  as  it  is 
of  all  exiles,  when  an  anonymous  tract, 
entitled  Avis  aux  Refugiez,  was  published 
with  the  date  of  Amsterdam  in  1690.  This, 


FROM  1650  TO  1700. 


363 


under  pretext  of  giving  advice,  in  the 
event  of  their  being  permitted  to  return 
home,  that  they  should  get  rid  of  their 
spirit  of  satire  and  of  their  republican 
theories,  is  a  bitter  and  able  attack  on 
those  who  had  taken  refuge  in  Holland. 
It  asserts  the  principle  of  passive  obe- 
dience, extolling  also  the  King  of  France 
and  his  government,  and  censuring  the 
English  Revolution.  Public  rumour  as- 
cribed this  to  Bayle  ;  it  has  usually  passed 
for  his,  and  is  even  inserted  in  the  collec- 
tion of  his  miscellaneous  works.  Some, 
however,  have  ascribed  it  to  Pelisson,  and 
others  to  Larroque ;  one  already,  and  the 
other  soon  after,  proselytes  to  the  Church 
of  Rome.  Basnage  thought  it  written  by 
the  latter,  and  published  by  Bayle,  to 
whom  he  ascribed  the  preface.  This  is 
apparently  in  a  totally  opposite  strain,  but 
not  without  strong  suspicion  of  irony  or 
ill  faith.  The  style  and  manner  through- 
out appear  to  suggest  Bayle  ;  and,  though 
the  supposition  is  very  discreditable  to  his 
memory,  the  weight  of  presumption  seems 
much  to  incline  that  way. 

103.  The  separation  of  political  econ- 
Poiiticai  omy  from  the  general  science 
economists,  which  regards  the  well-being  of  j 
communities  was  not  so  strictly  made  by 
the  earlier  philosophers  as  in  modern  times. 
It  does  not  follow  that  national  wealth  en- 
gaged none  of  their  attention.  Few,  on 
the  contrary,  of  those  who  have  taken 
comprehensive  views,  could  have  failed 
to  regard  it.  In  Bodin,  Botero,  Bacon, 
Hobbes.  Puffendorf,  Locke,  we  have  al- 
ready seen  proofs  of  this.  These  may 
be  said  to  have  discussed  the  subject,  not 
systematically,  nor  always  with  thorough 
knowledge,  but  with  acuteness  and  in  a 
philosophical  tone.  Others  there  were  of 
a  more  limited  range,  whose  habits  of  life 
and  experience  led  them  to  particular  de- 
partments of  economical  inquiry,  espe- 
cially as  to  commerce,  the  precious  met- 
als, and  the  laws  affecting  them.  The 
Italians  led  the  way  ;  Serra  has  been  men- 
tioned in  a  former  part  of  this  volume, 
and  a  few  more  might  find  a  place  here. 
Ds  Witt's  Interest  of  Holland  can  hardly 
be  reckoned  among  economical  writings ; 
and  it  is  said  by  Morhof  that  the  Dutch 
were  not  fond  of  promulgating  their  com- 
mercial knowledge  ;*  little,  at  least,  was 
contributed  from  that  country,  even  at  a 
later  period,  towards  the  theory  of  becom- 
iug  rich.  But  England  now  took  a  large 
share  in  this  new  literature.  Free,  inquis- 
itive, thriving  rapidly  in  commerce,  so  that 
ner  progress  even  in  the  nineteenth  cen- 

*  Polyhistor,  part  iii.,  lib.  iii.,  $  3. 


tury  has  hardly  been  in  a  greater  ratio 
than  before  and  after  the  middle  of  the 
seventeenth,  if  we  niay  trust  the  state- 
ments of  contemporaries,  she  produced 
some  writers  who,  though  few  of  them 
merit  the  name  of  philosophers,  may  yet 
not  here  be  overlooked,  on  account  of 
their  influence,  their  reputation,  or  their 
position  as  links  in  the  chain  of  science. 

104.  The  first  of  these  was  Thomas 
Mun,  an  intelligent  merchant  in  MunonFor 
the  earlier  part  of  the  centu-  eisn  trade- 
ry,  whose  posthumous  treatise,  England's 
Treasure  by  Foreign  Trade,  was  publish- 
ed in  1664,  but  seems  to  have  been  writ- 
ten soon  after  the  accession  of  Charles  I.* 
Mun  is  generally  reckoned  the  founder  of 
what  has  been  called  the  mercantile  sys- 
tem. His  main  position  is,  that  "  the  or- 
dinary means  to  increase  our  wealth  and 
treasure  is  by  foreign  trade,  wherein  we 
must  ever  observe  this  rule,  to  sell  more  to 
strangers  yearly  than  we  consume  of 
theirs  in  value. "f  We  must,  therefore, 
sell  as  cheap  as  possible ;  it  was  by  un- 
derselling the  Venetians  of  late  years 
that  we  had  exported  a  great  deal  of  cloth 
to  Turkey. |  It  is  singular  that  Mun  should 
not  have  perceived  the  difficulty  of  selling 
very  cheap  the  productions  of  a  country's 
labour,  whose  gold  and  silver  were  in  great 
abundance.  lie  was,  however,  too  good 
a  merchant  not  to  acknowledge  the  ineffi- 
cacy  and  impolicy  of  restraining  by  law 
the  exportation  of  coin,  which  is  often  a 
means  of  increasing  our  treasure  in  the 
long  run ;  advising  instead  a  due  regard 
to  the  balance  of  trade,  or  general  surplus 
of  exported  goods,  by  which  we  shall  in- 
fallibly obtain  a  stock  of  gold  and  silver. 
These  notions  have  long  since  been  cov- 
ered with  ridicule  ;  and  it  is  plain  that,  in 
a  merely  economical  view,  they  must  al- 
ways be  delusive.  Mun,  however,  looked 
to  the  accumulation  of  a  portion  of  this 
imported  treasure  by  the  state  ;  a  resource 
in  critical  emergencies  which  we  have  now 
learned  to  despise,  since  others  have  been 
at  hand,  but  which,  in  reality,  had  made  a 
great  difference  in  the  events  of  war,  and 
changed  the  balance  of  power  between 
many  commonwealths.  Mun  was  Child  on 
followed,  about  1670,  by  Sir  Josiah  Trade- 
Child,  in  a  discourse  on  Trade,  written  on 
the  same  principles  of  the  mercantile  sys- 
tem, but  more  copious  and  varied.  The 
chief  aim  of  Child  is  to  effect  a  reduction 
of  the  legal  interest  of  money  from  six  to 


«  Mr.  Maculloch  says  (Introductory  Discourse  to 
Smith's  Wealth  of  Nations),  it  had  most  probably 
been  written  about  1635  or  1640.  I  remarked  some 
things  which  serve  to  carry  it  up  a  litlle  higher. 

t  P.  11  (edit.  1664).  t  P- 18. 


364 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


four  per  cent.,  drawing  an  erroneous  in- 
ference from  the  increase  of  wealth  which 
had  followed  similar  enactments. 

105.  Among  the  many  difficulties  with 
Locke  on  which  the  government  of  William 
the  coin.  jji.  had  to  contend,  one  of  the 
most  embarrassing  was  the  scarcity  of 
the  precious  metals  and  depreciated  con- 
dition of  the  coin.     This  opened  the  whole 
field  of  controversy  in  that  province  of 
political  economy ;  and  the  bold  spirit  of 
inquiry,  unshackled  by  prejudice  in  favour 
of  ancient  custom,  which  in  all  respects  was 
characteristic  of  that  age,  began  to  work  by 
reasonings  on  general  theorems  instead  of 
collecting  insulated  and  inconclusive  de- 
tails.    Locke  stood  forward  on  this,  as  on 
so  many  subjects,  with  his  masculine  sense 
and  habitual  closeness  of  thinking.     His 
"  Considerations  of  the  Consequences  of 
lowering  Interest   and  raising  the  Value 
of  Money"  were  published  in  1691.     Two 
farther  treatises   are    in   answer  to  the 
pamphlets  of  Lowndes.     These  economi- 
cal writings  of  Locke  are  not  in  all  points 
conformable  to  the  modern  principles  of 
the  science.     He  seems  to  incline  rather 
too  much  towards  the  mercantile  theory, 
and  to  lay  too  much  stress  on  the  possess- 
ion of  the  precious  metals.     From  his  ex- 
cellent sense,  however,  as  well  as  from 
some  expressions,  I  should  conceive  that 
he  only  considers  them,  as  they  doubtless 
are,  a  portion  of  the  exchangeable  wealth 
of  the  nation,  and  by  their  inconsumable 
nature,  as  well  as  by  the  constancy  of  the 
demand  for  them,  one  of  the  most  impor- 
tant.    "  Riches  do  not  consist,"  he  says, 
"  in  having  more  gold   and  silver,  but  in 
having  more  in  proportion  than  the  rest  of 
the  world  or  than  our  neighbours,  where- 
by we  are  enabled  to  procure  to  ourselves 
a  greater  plenty  of  the  conveniences  of 
life." 

106.  Locke  had  the  sagacity  to  perceive 
the  impossibility  of  regulating  the  interest 
of  money  by  law.     It  was  an  empirical 
proposition  at  that  time,  as  we  have  just 
seen  in  Sir  Josiah  Child,  to  render  loans 
more  easy  to  the  borrower  by  reducing 
the  legal  rate  to  four  per  cent.     The  whole 
drift  of  his  reasoning  is  against  any  limi- 
tation, though,  from  fear  of  appearing  too 
paradoxical,  he  does  not  arrive  at  that  in- 
ference.    For  the  reasons  he  gives  in  fa- 
vour of  a  legal  limit  of  interest,  namely, 
that  courts  of  law  may  have  some  rule 
where  nothing  is  stipulated  in  the  contract, 
and  that  a  few  money-lenders  in  the  me- 
tropolis may  not  have  the  monopoly  of  all 
loans  in  England,  are,  especially  the  first, 
so  trifling,  that  he  could  not  have  relied 
upon  them ;  and,  indeed,  he  admits  that, 


in  other  circumstances,  there  would  be  no 
danger  from  the  second.  But  his  pru- 
dence having  restrained  him  from  speak- 
ing out,  a  famous  writer,  almost  a  cen- 
tury afterward,  came  forward  to  assert  a 
paradox,  which  he  loved  the  better  for 
seeming  such,  and  finally  to  convince  the 
thinking  part  of  mankind. 

107.  Laws   fixing   the  value   of  silver 
Locke   conceived  to  be  nugatory,  and  is 
averse  to  prohibit  its  exportation.     The 
value  of  money,  he  maintains,  does  not  de- 
pend on  the  rate  of  interest,  but  on  its 
plenty  relatively  to  commodities.     Hence 
the  rate  of  interest,  he  thinks,  but  perhaps 
erroneously,  does  not  govern  the  price  of 
land  ;  arguing  from  the  higher  rate  of  land 
relatively  to  money,  that  is,  the  worse  in- 
terest it  gave,  in  the  reigns  of  Elizabeth 
and  James,  than  in  his  own  time.     But  one 
of  Locke's  positions,  if  generally  received, 
would  alone   have  sufficed  to  lower  the 
value  of  land.     "  It  is  in  vain,"  he  says, 
"  in  a  country  whose  great  fund  is  land, 
to  ho~pe  to  lay  the  public  charges  of  the 
government  on  anything  else  ;    there  at 
last  it  will  terminate."     The  legislature 
soon  proceeded  to  act  on  this  mistaken 
theory  in  the  annual  land-tax ;  an  impost 
of  tremendous  severity  at  that  time,  the 
gross  unfairness,  however,  of  which  has 
been  compensated  in  later  times  by  the 
taxes  on  personal  succession. 

108.  In  such  a  monetary  crisis  as  that 
of  his  time,  Locke  was  naturally  obliged 
to  consider  the  usual  resource  of  raising 
the  denomination  of  the  coin.     This,  he 
truly  says,  would  be  to  rob  all  creditors  of 
such  a  proportion  of  their  debts.     It  is 
probable   that  his  influence,  which  was 
very  considerable,  may  have  put  a  stop  to 
the  scheme.     He  contends  in  his  Further 
Considerations,  in  answer  to  a  tract  by 
Lowndes,  that  clipped  money  should  go 
only  by  weight.     This  seems  to  have  been 
agreed    by   both    parties ;   but   Lowndes 
thought  the  loss  should  be  defrayed  by  a 
tax,  Locke  that  it  should  fall  on  the  hold- 
ers.    Honourably  for  the  government,  the 
former  opinion  prevailed. 

109.  The  Italians  were  the  first  who  laid 
anything  like  a  foundation  for  sta-  statistical 
tistics  or  political  arithmetic  ;  that  tracts- 
which  is  to  the  political  economist  what 
general  history  is  to  the  philosopher.     But 
their  numerical  reckonings  of  population, 
houses,  value  of  lands  or  stock,  and  the 
like,  though  very  curious,  and  sometimes 
taken  from  public  documents,  were  not  al- 
ways more  than  conjectural,  nor  are  they 
so  full  and  minute  as  the  spirit  of  calcula- 
tion demands.     England  here  again  took 
the  lead,  in  Graunt's  Observations  on  the* 


FROM  1650  TO  1700. 


36b 


Bills  of  Mortality,  1661,  in  Petty's  Politi- 
cal Arithmetic  (posthumous  in  1691),  and 
other  treatises  of  the  same  ingenious  and 
philosophical  person,  and,  we  may  add,  in 
the  Observations  of  Gregory  King  on  the 
Natural  and  Political  State  of  England; 
for,  though  these  were  not  published  till 
near  the  end  of  the  eighteenth  century,  the 
\  manuscripts  had  fallen  into  the  hands  of 
Dr.  Charles  Davenant,  who  has  made  ex- 
tracts from  them  in  his  own  valuable  con- 
tributions to  political  arithmetic.  King 
seems  to  have  possessed  a  sagacity  which 
has  sometimes  brought  his  conjectures 
nearer  to  the  mark  than  from  the  imper- 
fection of  his  data  it  was  reasonable  to  ex- 
pect. Yet  he  supposes  that  the  popula- 
tion of  England,  which  he  estimated,  per- 
haps rightly,  at  five  millions  and  a  half, 
would  not  reach  the  double  of  that  num- 
ber before  A.D.  2300.  Sir  William  Petty, 
with  a  mind  capable  of  just  and  novel  the- 
ories, was  struck  by  the  necessary  conse- 
quences of  a  uniformly  progressive  pop- 
ulation. Though  the  rate  of  movement 
seemed  to  him,  as  in  truth  it  was,  much 
slower  than  we  have  latterly  found  it,  he 
clearly  saw  that  its  continuance  would,  in 
an  ascertainable  length  of  time,  overload 
the  world.  "  And  then,  according  to  the 
prediction  of  the  Scriptures,  there  must  be 
Avars  and  great  slaughter."  He  conceived 
that,  in  the  ordinary  course  of  things,  the 
population  of  a  country  would  be  doubled 
in  two  hundred  years  ;  but  the  whole  con- 
ditions of  the  problem  were  far  less  under- 
stood than  at  present.  Davenant's  Essay 
on  Ways  and  Means,  1693,  gained  him  a 
high  reputation,  which  he  endeavoured  to 
augment  by  many  subsequent,  works,  some 
falling  within  the  seventeenth  century. 
He  was  a  man  of  more  enlarged  reading 
than  his  predecessors,  with  the  exception 
of  Petty,  and  of  close  attention  to  the  sta- 
tistical documents,  which  are  now  more 
copiously  published  than  before  ;  but  he 
seldom  launches  into  any  extensive  the- 
ory, confining  himself  rather  to  the  accu- 
mulation of  facts  and  to  the  immediate  in- 
ferences, generally  for  temporary  purpo- 
ses, which  they  supplied. 


SECT.  III.     ON  JURISPRUDENCE. 

110.  IN  1667,  a  short  book  was  published 
works  of  at  Frankfort,  by  a  young  man 
Leibnitz,  on  of  twenty-two  years,  entitled 
Roman  law.  Metho(ji  Nova?  discendae  docen- 
daeque  Jurisprudent.  The  science  which 
of  all  had  been  deemed  to  require  the  most 
protracted  labour,  the  ripest  judgment,  the 


most  experienced  discrimination,  was,  as 
it  were,  invaded  by  a  boy,  but  by  one 
who  had  the  genius  of  an  Alexander,  and 
for  whom  the  glories  of  an  Alexander 
were  reserved.  This  is  the  first  produc- 
tion of  Leibnitz ;  and  it  is  probably,  in 
many  points  of  view,  the  most  remarkable 
work  that  has  prematurely  united  erudi- 
tion and  solidity.  We  admire  in  it  the 
vast  range  of  learning  (for,  though  he  could 
not  have  read  all  the  books  he  names, 
there  is  evidence  of  his  acquaintance  with 
a  great  number,  and,  at  least,  with  a  well- 
filled  chart  of  literature),  the  originality  of 
some  ideas,  the  commanding  and  compre 
hensive  views  he  embraces,  the  philo- 
sophical spirit,  the  compressed  style  in 
which  it  is  written,  the  entire  absence  of 
juvenility,  of  ostentatious  paradox,*  of  im- 
agination, ardour,  and  enthusiasm,  which, 
though  Leibnitz  did  not  always  want  them, 
would  have  been  wholly  misplaced  on 
such  a  subject.  Faults  have  been  cen- 
sured in  this  early  performance,  and  the 
author  declared  himself  afterward  dissat- 
isfied with  it.f 

111.  Leibnitz  was  a  passionate  admirer 
of  the  Roman  jurisprudence  ;  he  held  the 
great  lawyers  of  antiquity  second  only  to 
the  best  geometers  for  strong,  and  subtle, 
and  profound  reasoning ;  not  even  ac- 
knowledging, to  any  considerable  degree, 
the  contradictions  (antinomies  juris)  which 
had  perplexed  their  disciples  in  later 
times,  and  on  which  many  volumes  had 
been  written.  But  the  arrangement  of 
Justinian  he  entirely  disapproved ;  and  in 
another  work,  Corporis  Juris  reconcin- 
nandi  Ratio,  published  in  1668,  he  pointed 
out  the  necessity,  and  what  he  deemed  the 
best  method  of  a  new  distribution.  This 
appears  to  be  not  quite  like  what  he  had 
previously  sketched,  and  which  was  rather 


*  I  use  the  epithet  ostentatious  because  some  of 
his  original  theories  are  a  little  paradoxical ;  thus 
he  has  a  singular  notion  that  the  right  of  bequeath- 
ing property  by  testament  is  derived  from  the  immor- 
tality of  the  soul ;  the  living  heirs  being,  as  it  were, 
the  attorneys  of  those  we  suppose  to  be  dead.  Quia 
mortui  revera  adhuc  vivunt,  ideo  manent  domini  re- 
rum,  quos  vero  hsredes  reliquerunt,  concipiendi 
sunt  ut  procuratores  in  rem  suam.  In  our  own  dis- 
cussions on  the  law  of  entail,  I  am  not  aware  that 
this  argument,  has  ever  been  explicitly  urged,  though 
the  advocates  of  perpetual  control  seem  to  have 
none  better. 

t  This  tract,  and  all  the  other  works  of  Leibnitz 
on  jurisprudence,  will  be  found  in  the  fourth  vol- 
ume of  his  works  by  Dutens.  An  analysis  by  Bon, 
professor  of  law  at  Turin,  is  prefixed  to  the  Method! 
Novae,  and  he  has  pointed  out  a  few  errors.  Leib- 
nitz says  in  a  letter,  about  1676,  that  his  book  was 
effusus  potius  quam  script  us,  in  itinere,  sine  libris, 
&c.,  and  that  it  contained  some  things  he  no  longer 
would  have  said,  though  there  were  others  of  which 
he  did  not  repent.— Lerminier,  Hist,  du  Droit,  p.  150. 


366 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


a  philosophical  than  a  very  convenien 
method  ;*   in  this   new  arrangement  h 
proposes  to  retain  the  texts  of  the  Corpu 
Juris  Civilis,  but  in  a  form  rather  like  tha 
of  the  Pandects  than  of  the  Institutes  ;  to 
the  latter  of  which,  followed  as  it  has  been 
among  us  by  Hale  and  Blackstone,  he  was 
very  averse. 

112.  There  was  only  one  man  in  the 
world  who  could  have  left  so  noble  a  science 
as  philosophical  jurisprudence  for  pursuits 
of  a  still  more  exalted  nature,  and  for  which 
he  was  still  more  fitted,  and  that  man  was 
Leibnitz  himself.  He  passed  onward  to 
reap  the  golden  harvests  of  other  fields 
Yet  the  study  of  law  has  owed  much  to 
him  ;  he  did  much  to  unite; it  with  mora 
philosophy  on  the  one  hand,  and  with  his- 
tory on  the  other  ;  a  great  master  of  both, 
he  exacted,  perhaps,  a  more  comprehensive 
course  of  legal  studies  than  the  capacity 
of  ordinary  lawyers  could  grasp.  In  Eng- 
land, also,  its  conduciveness  to  profession- 
al excellence  might  be  hard  to  prove.  It 
is,  however,  certain  that,  in  Germany  at 
least,  philology,  history,  and  philosophy 
have,  more  or  less  since  the  time  of  Leib- 
nitz, marched  together  under  the  robe  of 
law.  "  He  did  but  pass  over  that  king- 
dom," says  Lerminier,  "and  he  has  re- 
formed and  enlarged  it."f 

113.  James  Godefroy  was  thirty  years 
Civil  ju-  enga?ed  on  an  edition  of  the  The- 
risis:  odosian  Code,  published,  several 
Godefroy.  years  after  his  death,  in  1665.  It 
is  by  far  the  best  edition  of  that 
body  of  laws,  and  retains  a  standard  value 
in  the  historical  department  of  jurispru- 
dence. Domat,  a  French  lawyer,  and  one 
of  the  Port-Royal  connexion,  in  his  Loix 
Civiles  dans  leur  Ordre  Naturel,  the  first 
of  five  volumes  of  which  appeared  in  1089, 
carried  into  effect  the  project  of  Leibnitz, 
by  rearranging  the  laws  of  Justinian, 
which,  especially  the  Pandects,  are  well 
known  to  be  confusedly  distributed,  in  a 
more  regular  method,  prefixing  a  book  of 
his  own  on  the  nature  and  spirit  of  law  in 
general.  This  appears  to  be  a  useful  di- 
gest or  abridgment,  something  like  those 

*  In  his  Methodi  Novae  he  divides  law,  in  the  di- 
kctic  part,  according  to  the  several  sources  of 
fights;  namely,  1.  Nature,  which  gives  us  right 
over  res  millius,  things  where  there  is  no  prior 
property.  2.  Succession.  3.  Possession.  4.  Con- 
.ract.  5.  Injury,  which  gives  right  to  reparation. 

t  Biogr.  Univ.    Lerminier,  Hist,  du  Droit,  p.  142. 


made  by  Viner  and  earlier  writers  of  our 
own  texts,  but,  perhaps,  with  more  com- 
pression and  choice  ;  two  editions  of  an 
English  translation  were  published.  Do- 
mat's  Public  Law,  which  might,  perhaps, 
in  our  language,  have  been  called  consti- 
tutional, since  we  generally  confine  the 
epithet  public  to  the  law  of  nations,  forms 
a  second  part  of  the  same  work,  and  con- 
tains a  more  extensive  system,  wherein 
theological  morality,  ecclesiastical  ordi- 
nances, and  the  fundamental  laws  of  the 
French  monarchy  are  reduced  into  meth- 
od. Domat  is  much  extolled  by  his  coun- 
trymen ;  but  in  philosophical  jurispru- 
dence he  seems  to  display  little  force  or 
originality.  Gravina.  who  obtained  a  high 
name  in  this  literature  at  the  beginning  of 
the  next  century,  was  known  merely  as  a 
professor  at  the  close  of  this  ;  but  a  Dutch 
jurist,  Gerard  Noodt,  may  deserve  NOO<U  on 
mention  for  his  treatise  on  usury  Usury. 
in  1698,  wherein  he  both  endeavours  to 
prove  its  natural  and  religious  lawfulness, 
and  traces  its  history  through  the  Roman 
law.  Several  other  works  of  Noodt  on 
objects  of  historical  jurisprudence  seem 
:o  fall  within  this  century,  though  I  do  not 
find  their  exact  dates  of  publication. 

1 14.  Grotius  was  the  acknowledged  mas- 
;er  of  all  who  studied  the  theory  Jaw  of  Na, 
of  international  right.  It  was,  tions:  pur- 
perhaps,  the  design  of  Puffendorf,  fendorf- 
as  we  may  conjecture  by  the  title  of  his 
?reat  work  on  the  Law  of  Nature  and  Na- 
ions,  to  range  over  the  latter  field  with  as 
issiduous  diligence  as  the  former.  But, 
rom  the  length  of  his  prolix  labour  on 
mtural  law  and  the  rights  of  sovereigns, 
le  has  not  more  than  one  twentieth  of  the 
whole  volume  to  spare  for  international 
[uestions ;  and  this  is  in  great  measure 
copied  or  abridged  from  Grotius.  In  some 
nstances  he  disagrees  with  his  master. 
Puffendorf  singularly  denies  that  compacts 
made  during  war  are  binding  by  the  law 
~>f  nature,  but  for  weak  and  unintelligible 
easons.*  Treaties  of  peace  extorted  by 
njust  force  he  denies  with  more  reason 
o  be  binding,  though  Grotius  had  held 
he  contrary.!  The  inferior  writers  on  the 
aw  of  nations,  or  those  who,  like  Wicque- 
ort  in  his  Ambassador,  confined  them- 
elves  to  merely  conventional  usages,  it  is 
eedless  to  mention. 


*  B.  viii.,  chap.  7. 


t  Chap.  8. 


FROM  1650  TO  1700. 


367 


CHAPTER  V. 

HISTORY  OF  POETRY  FROM  1650  TO  1700. 


SECT.  I.     ON  ITALIAN  POETRY. 

Filicaja. — Guidi.— Menzini.—  Arcadian  Society. 
1.  THE  imitators  of  Marini,  full  of  ex- 
improved      travagant   metaphors,  and   the 
tone  or  itai-  false    thoughts    usually    callec 
tan  poetry.     concetti,  were  in  their  vigour  at 
the  commencement  of  this  period.     But 
their  names  are  now  obscure,  and  have 
been  overwhelmed  by  the  change  of  pub- 
lic taste  which  has  condemned  and  pro- 
scribed  what   it    once    most   applauded. 
This   change   came  on  long  before   the 
close  of  the  century,  though  not  so  deci- 
dedly but  that  some  traces  of  the  former 
manner  are  discoverable  in  the  majority 
of  popular  writers.     The  general  charac- 
teristics, however,  of  Italian  poetry  be- 
came  a  more   masculine  tone,  a  wider 
reach  of  topics,  and  a  selection  of  the 
.  most  noble ;  an  abandonment,  except  in 
the  lighter  lyrics,  of  amatory  strains,  and 
especially  of  such  as  were  languishing 
and  querulous ;  an  anticipation,  in  short, 
as  far  as  the  circumstances  of  the  age 
would  permit,  of  that  severe  and  elevated 
style  which  has  been  most  affected  for 
the  last  fifty  years.     It  would  be  futile  to 
seek  an  explanation  of  this  manlier  spirit 
in  any  social  or  political  causes ;   never 
had  Italy,  in  these  respects,  been  so  life- 
less ;  but  the  world  of  poets  is  often  not 
the  world  around  them,  and  their  stream 
of  living  waters  may  flow,-  like  that  of 
Arethusa,  without  imbibing   much   from 
the  surrounding  brine.     Chiabrera  had  led 
the  way  by  the  Pindaric  majesty  of  his 
odes,  and  had  disciples  of  at  least  equal 
name  with  himself. 

2.  Florence  was  the  mother  of  one  who 
did  most  to  invigorate  Italian  poe- 
Icaja  try,  Vincenzo  Filicaja  ;  a  man  gift- 
ed with  a  serious,  pure,  and  noble  spirit, 
from  which  congenial  thoughts  spontane- 
ously arose,  and  with  an  imagination  rath- 
er vigorous  than  fertile.  The  siege  of 
Vienna  in  1683,  and  its  glorious  deliver- 
ance by  Sobieski,  are  the  subjects  of  six 
odes.  The  third  of  these,  addressed  to 
the  King  of  Poland  himself,  is  generally 
most  esteemed,  though  I  do  not  perceive 
that  the  first  or  second  are  inferior.  His 
ode  to  Rome,  on  Christina's  taking  up  her 
residence  there,  is  in  many  parts  highly 
noetical ;  but  the  flattery  of  representing 


this  event  as  sufficient  to  restore  the  eter- 
nal city  from  decay  is  too  gross.  It  is 
not,  on  the  whole,  so  successful  as  those 
on  the  siege  of  Vienna.  A  better  is  that 
addressed  to  Florence  on  leaving  her  for 
a  rural  solitude,  in  consequence  of  his 
poverty  and  the  neglect  he  had  experien- 
ced. It  breathes  an  injured  spirit,  some- 
thing like  the  complaint  of  Cowley,  with 
which  posterity  are  sure  to  sympathize. 
The  sonnet  of  Filicaja,  "Italia  mia,"  is 
known  by  every  one  who  cares  for  this 
poetry  at  all.  This  sonnet  is  conspicuous 
for  its  depth  of  feeling,  for  the  spirit  of  its 
commencement,  and,  above  all,  for  the 
noble  lines  with  which  it  ends ;  but  there 
are  surely  awkward  and  feeble  expres- 
sions in  the  intermediate  part.  Armenti 
for  regiments  of  dragoons  could  only  be 
excused  by  frequent  usage  in  poetry, 
which,  I  presume,  is  not  the  case,  though 
we  find  the  same  word  in  one  of  Filicaja's 
odes.  A  foreigner  may  venture  upon  this 
kind  of  criticism. 

3.  Filicaja  was  formed  in  the  school  of 
Chiabrera ;  but,  with  his  pomp  of  sound 
and  boldness  of  imagery,  he  is  animated 
by  a  deeper  sense  both  of  religion  and  pa- 
triotism. We  perceive  more  the  language 
of  the  heart ;  the  man  speaks  in  his  genu- 
ine character,  not  with  assumed  and  mer- 
cenary sensibility,  like  that  of  Pindar  and 
Chiabrera.  His  genius  is  greater  than  his 
skill;  he  abandons  himself  to  an  impetu- 
osity which  he  cannot  sustain,  forgetful 
of  the  economy  of  strength  and  breath,  as 
necessary  for  a  poet  as  a  racehorse.  He 
las  rarely  or  never  any  conceits  or  frivo- 
.ous  thoughts ;  but  the  expression  is  some- 
times rather  feeble.  There  is  a  general 
want  of  sunshine  in  Filicaja's  poetry ;  un- 
srosperous  himself,  he  views  nothing  with 
a  worldly  eye ;  his  notes  of  triumph  are 
without  brilliancy,  his  predictions  of  suc- 
cess are  without  joy.  He  seems  also 
deficient  in  the  charms  of  grace  and  feli- 
ity.  But  his  poetry  is  always  the  effu- 
sion of  a  fine  soul :  we  venerate  and  love 
Filicaja  as  a  man,  but  we  also  acknowl- 
dge  that  he  was  a  real  poet. 

4.  Guidi,  a  native  of  Pavia,  raised  him- 
self to  the  highest  point  that  any  CuW( 
yric  poet  of  Italy  has  attained.    His 
odes  are  written  at  Rome,  from  about  the 
year  1685  to  the   end  of  the   century. 


368 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


Compared  with  Chiabrera,  or  even  Filica- 
ja,  he  may  be  allowed  the  superiority :  if 
he  never  rises  to  a  higher  pitch  than  the 
latter,  if  he  has  never  chosen  subjects  so 
animating,  if  he  has  never  displayed  so 
much  depth  and  truth  of  feeling,  his  en- 
thusiasm is  more  constant,  his  imagina- 
tion more  creative,  his  power  of  language 
more  extensive  and  more  felicitous.  "  He 
falls  sometimes,"  says  Corniani,  "  into  ex- 
travagance, but  never  into  affectation.  .  .  . 
His  peculiar  excellence  is  poetical  expres- 
sion, always  brilliant  with  a  light  of  his 
own.  The  magic  of  his  language  used  to 
excite  a  lively  movement  among  the  hear- 
ers when  he  recited  his  verses  in  the  Ar- 
cadian Society."  Corniani  adds  that  he 
is  sometimes  exuberant  in  words  and  hy- 
perbolical in  images.* 

5.  The  ode  of  Guidi  on  Fortune  appears 
to  me  at  least  equal  to  any  in  the  Italian 
language.     If  it  has  been  suggested  by 
that  of  Celio  Magno,  entitled  Iddio,  the 
resemblance  does  not  deserve  the  name 
of  imitation ;  a  nobleness  of  thought,  im- 
agery, and  language  prevails  throughout. 
But  this  is  the  character  of  all  his  odes. 
He  chose  better  subjects  than  Chiabrera; 
lor  the  ruins  of  Rome  are  more  glorious 
than  the  living  house  of  Medici.     He  re- 
sembles him,  indeed,  rather  than  any  oth- 
er poet,  so  that  it  might  not  always  be 
easy  to  discern  one  from  the  other  in  a 
single  stanza ;   but  Guidi  is  a  bolder,  a 
more  imaginative,   a    more    enthusiastic 
poet.     Both  adorn  and  amplify  a  little  to 
excess ;  and  it  may  be  imputed  to  Guidi 
that  he  has  abused  an  advantage  which 
his  native  language  afforded.    The  Italian 
is  rich  in  words,  where  the  sound  so  well 
answers  to  the  meaning,  that  it  is  hardly 
possible  to  hear  them  without  an  associa- 
ted sentiment :  their  effect  is  closely  anal- 
ogous to  musical  expression.     Such  are 
the  adjectives  denoting  mental  elevation, 
as   superbo,  altiero,  audace,  gagliardo,  in- 
domito,  maestoso.     These  recur  in  the  po- 
ems of  Guidi  with  every  noun  that  will 
admit  of  them  ;  but  sometimes  the  artifice 
is  a  litttle  too  transparent,  and,  though  the 
meaning  is  not  sacrificed  to  sound,  we  feel 
that  it  is  too  much  enveloped  in  it,  and 
are  not  quite  pleased  that  a  great  poet 
should  rely  so  much  on  a  resource  which 
the  most  mechanical  slave  of  music  can 
employ. 

6.  The  odes  of  Benedetto  Menzini  are 
Menzini    e^e§'An^  anc^  m  poetical  language, 

but  such  as  does  not  seem  very 
original,  nor  do  they  strike  us  by  much 
rigour  or  animation  of  thought.  The  al- 

*  Vol.  viii.,  p.  224. 


lusions  to  mythology,  which  we  never  find 
in  Filicaja,  and  rarely  in  Guidi,  are  too 
frequent.  Some  are  of  considerable  beau- 
ty, among  which  we  may  distinguish  that 
addressed  to  Magalotti,  beginning,  "  Un 
verde  ramuscello  in  piaggia  aprica."  Men- 
zini was  far  from  confining  himself  to  this 
species  of  poetry ;  he  was  better  known 
in  others.  As  an  Anacreontic  poet  he 
stands,  I  believe,  only  below  Chiabrera 
and  Redi.  His  satires  have  been  prefer- 
red by  some  to  those  of  Ariosto  ;  but  nei- 
ther Corniani  nor  Salfi  acquiesce  in  this 
praise.  Their  style  is  a  mixture  of  obso- 
lete phrases  from  Dante,  with  the  idioms 
of  the  Florentine  populace  ;  and,  though 
spirited  in  substance,  they  are  rather  full  of 
commonplace  invective.  Menzini  strikes 
boldly  at  priests  and  governments ;  and, 
what  was  dangerous  to  Orpheus,  at  the 
whole  sex  of  women.  His  Art  of  Poetry, 
in  five  books,  published  in  1681,  deserves 
some  praise.  As  his  atrabilious  humour 
prompted,  he  inveighs  against  the  corrup- 
tion of  contemporary  literature,  especially 
on  the  stage  ;  ridiculing  also  the  Pindaric 
pomp  that  some  affected,  not,  perhaps, 
without  allusion  to  his  enemy  Guidi.  His 
own  style  is  pointed,  animated,  sometimes 
poetical,  where  didactic  verse  will  admit 
of  such  ornament,  but  a  little  too  diffuse 
and  minute  in  criticism. 

7.  These  three  are  the  great  restorers 
of  Italian  poetry  after  the  usurpa-  saivator 
tion  of  false  taste.     And  it  is  to  be  Rosa. 
observed  that   they  introduced   a  Redl- 
new  manner,  very  different  from  that  of 
the   sixteenth   century.      Several  others 
deserve  to  be  mentioned,  though  we  can 
only  do  so  briefly.     The  Satires  of  Saiva- 
tor Rosa,  full  of  force  and  vehemence, 
more  vigorous  than  elegant,  are  such  as 
his  ardent  genius  and  rather  savage  tem- 
per would  lead  us  to  expect.     A  far  supe- 
rior poet  was  a  man  not  less  eminent  than 
Saivator,  the  philosophical  and  every  way 
accomplished   Redi.     Few  have  done  so 
much  in  any  part  of  science  who  have 
also  shone  so  brightly  in  the  walks  of 
taste.     The  sonnets  of  Redi  are  esteem- 
ed ;  but  his  famous  dithyrambic,  Bacco  in 
Toscana,  is  admitted  to  be  the  first  poem 
of  that  kind  in  modern  language,  and  is 
as  worthy  of  Monte  Pulciano  wine  as  the 
wine  is  worthy  of  it. 

8.  Maggi  and  Lemene  bore  an  honoura- 
ble part  in  the  restoration  of  po-  O(her 
etry,  though  neither  of  them  is 
reckoned  altogether  to  have  purified  him- 
self from  the  infection  of  the  preceding 
age.      The  sonnet  of   Pastorini   on   the 
imagined  resistance  of  Genoa  to  the  op- 
pression of  Louis  XIV.  in  1684,  though 


FROM  1650  TO  1700. 


369 


it  borne  out  by  historical  truth,  is  one 
of  those  breathings  of  Italian  nat  onality 
which  we  always  admire,  and  which  had 
now  become  more  common  than  for  a 
century  before.  It  must  be  confessed,  in 
general,  that  when  the  protestations  of 
a  people  against  tyranny  become  loud 
enough  to  be  heard,  we  may  suspect  that 
the  tyranny  has  been  relaxed. 

9.  Rome  was  to  poetry  in  this  age  what 
Christina's  Florence  had  once  been,  though 
patronage  Rome  had  hitherto  done  less  for 
of  letters.  tjie  Italian  muses  than  any  other 
great  city.  Nor  was  this  so  much  due  to 
her  bishops  and  cardinals  as  .to  a  stranger 
and  a  woman.  Christina  finally  took  up 
her  abode  there  in  1G88.  Her  palace  be- 
came the  resort  of  all  the  learning  and 
genius  she  could  assemble  round  her ;  a 
literary  academy  was  established,  and  her 
revenue  was  liberally  dispensed  in  pen- 
sions. If  Filicaja  and  Guidi,  both  sharers 
of  her  bounty,  have  exaggerated  her  prais- 
es, much  may  be  pardoned  to  gratitude, 
and  much  also  to  the  natural  admiration 
which  those  who  look  up  to  power  must 
feel  for  those  who  have  renounced  it. 
Christina  died  in  1690,  and  her  own  acad- 
emy could  last  no  longer ;  but  a  phoenix 
sprang  at  once  from  its  ashes.  Crescim- 
beni,  then  young,  has  the  credit  of  having 
Society  of  planned  the  Society  of  Arcadians, 
Arcadians,  which  began  in  1 090,  and  has 
eclipsed  in  celebrity  most  of  the  earlier 
academies  of  Italy.  Fourteen,  says  Cor- 
niani,  were  the  original  founders  of  this 
society  ;  among  whom  were  Crescimbeni, 
and  Gravina,  and  Zappi.  In  course  of 
time  the  Arcadians  vastly  increased,  and 
established  colonies  in  the  chief  cities  of 
Italy.  They  determined  to  assume  every 
one  a  pastoral  name  and  a  Greek  birth- 
place, to  hold  their  meetings  in  some  ver- 
dant meadow,  and  to  mingle  with  all  their 
compositions,  as  far  as  possible,  images 
from  pastoral  life  :  images  always  agree- 
able, because  they  recall  the  times  of 
primitive  innocence.  This  poetical  tribe 
adopted  as  their  device  the  pipe  of  seven 
reeds  bound  with  laurel,  and  their  presi- 
dent or  director  was  denominated  general 
shepherd  or  keeper  (custodc  generate).* 
The  fantastical  part  of  the  Arcadian  So- 
ciety was  common  to  them  with  all  simi- 
lar institutions  ;  and  mankind  has  gener- 
ally required  some  ceremonial  follies  to 
keep  alive  the  wholesome  spirit  of  asso- 
ciation. Their  solid  aim  was  to  purify 
the  national  taste.  Much  had  been  al- 
ready done,  and  in  great  measure  by  their 


*  Corniani.viii.,301.     Tiraboschi.xi.,  43.    Cros- 
cimbeni,  Storia  d'Arcadia  (reprinted  by  Mathias). 
VOL.  II.— 3  A 


own  members,  Menzini  and  CJuidi ;  but 
their  influence,  which  was  of  course  more 
felt  in  the  next  century,  has  always  been 
reckoned  both  important  and  auspicious  to 
Italian  literature. 


SECT.  II.     ON  FRENCH  POETRY. 

Fontaine. — Boileau. — Minor  French  Poets. 

10.  WE  must  pass  over  Spain  and  Por- 
tugal as  absolutely  destitute  of  LaFomaine 
any  name  winch  requires  com- 
memoration.   In  France  it  was  very  differ- 
ent ;  if  some  earlier  periods  had  been  not 
less  rich  in  the  number  of  versifiers,  none 
had  produced  poets  who  have  descended 
with  so  much  renown  to  posterity.     The 
most  popular  of  these  was  La  Fontaine. 
Few  writers  have  left  such  a  number  of 
verses  which,  in  the  phrase  of  his  country, 
have  made  their  fortune,  and  been,  like 
ready  money,  always  at  hand  for  prompt 
quotation.     His  lines  have  at  once  a  pro- 
verbial truth  and  a  humour  of  expression 
which  render  them  constantly  applicable 
This  is  chiefly  true  of  his  Fables  ;  for  his 
Tales,  though  no  one  will  deny  that  they 
are  lively  enough,  are  not  reckoned  so  well 
written,  nor  do  they  supply  so  much  for 
general  use. 

11.  The  models  of  La  Fontaine's  style 
were  partly  the  ancient  fabulists  character  of 
whom  he  copied,  for  he  pretends  llis  Kabies. 
to  no  originality ;  partly  the  old  French 
poets,  especially  Marot.     From   the  one 
he  took  the  real  gold  of  his  fables  them- 
selves, from  the  other  he  caught  a  peculiar 
archness  and  vivacity,  which  some  of  them 
had  possessed,  perhaps,  in  no  less  dosrrer, 
but  which,  becomes  more  captivating  from 
his  intermixture  of  a  solid  and  serious 
wisdom.     For,  notwithstanding  the  com- 
mon anecdotes,  sometimes,  as  we  may 
suspect,  rather  exaggerated,  of  La  Fon- 
taine's simplicity,  he  was  evidently  a  man 
who  had  thought  and  observed  much  about 
human  nature,  and  knew  a  little  more  of 
the  world  than  he  cared  to  let  the  world 
perceive.     Many  of  his  fables  are  admira- 
ble;  the  grace  of  the  poetry,  the  happy 
inspiration  that  seems  to  have  dictated  the 
turns  of  expression,  place  him  in  the  tir.st 
rank  among  fabulists.     Yet  the  praise  of 
La  Fontaine  should  not  be  indiscriminate. 
It  is  said  that  he  gave  the  preference  to 
Phaedrus   and  jEsop   above  himself,  and 
some  have  thought  that  in  this  he  could 
not  have  been  sincere.     It  was,  at  least,  a 
proof  of  his  modesty.     But,  though  we 
cannot  think  of  putting  Phredrus  on  a  level 
with  La  Fontaine,  were  it  only  for  thU 


570 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


reason,  that  in  a  work  designed  for  the 
general  reader,  and  surely  fables  are  of 
this  description,  the  qualities  that  please 
the  many  are  to  be  valued  above  those 
that  please  the  few.  yet  it  is  true  that  the 
French  poet  might  envy  some  talents  of 
the  Roman.  Phajdrus,  a  writer  scarcely 
prized  enough,  because  he  is  an  early 
schoolbook,  has  a  perfection  of  elegant 
beauty  which  very  few  have  rivalled.  No 
word  is  out  of  its  place,  none  is  redundant, 
or  could  be  changed  for  a  better ;  his  per- 
spicuity and  ease  make  everything  appear 
unpremeditated,  yet  everything  is  wrought 
by  consummate  art.  In  many  fables  of  La 
Fontaine  this  is  not  the  case ;  he  beats 
round  the  subject,  and  misses  often  before 
he  hits.  Much,  whatever  La  Harpe  may 
assert  to  the  contrary,  could  be  retrenched ; 
in  much  the  exigences  of  rhyme  and 
metre  are  too  manifest.*  He  has,  on  the 
other  hand,  far  more  humour  than  Phae- 
drus ;  and,  whether  it  be  praise  or  not, 
thinks  less  of  his  fable  and  more  of  its 
moral.  One  pleases  by  enlivening,  the 
other  pleases,  but  does  not  enliven ;  one 
has  more  felicity,  the  other  more  skill ; 
but  in  such  skill  there  is  felicity. 

12.  The  first  seven  satires  of  Boileau 
Boiieau:  appeared  in  1666;  and  these, 
His  epistles,  though  much  inferior  to  his  later 
productions,  are  characterized  by  La  Harpe 
as  the  earliest  poetry  in  the  French  lan- 
guage where  the  mechanism  of  its  verse 
was  fully  understood,  where  the  style  was 
always  pure  and  elegant,  where  the  ear 
was  uniformly  gratified.  The  Art  of  Poe- 
try was  published  in  1673,  the  Lutrin  in 
1674 ;  the  Epistles  followed  at  various 
periods.  Their  elaborate  though  equable 
strain,  in  a  kind  of  poetry  which,  never 
requiring  high  flights  of  fancy,  escapes  the 
censure  of  mediocrity  and  monotony  which 
might  sometimes  fall  upon  it,  generally 

*  Let  us  take,  for  example,  the  first  lines  of 
L'Homme  et  la  Couleuvre. 

Un  hornrne  vit  une  couleuvre. 
Ah  mechanic,  dit-il,  je  m'en  vais  faire  un  oeuvre 
Agreable  a  tout  1'univers  ! 
A  ces  mots  1'animal  pervers 
(C'est  le  serpent  que  je  veux  dire, 
Et  non  Vhomme,  on  pourroit  aisement  s'y  tromper) 
A  ces  iiaots  le  serpent  se  laissant  attrapper 
Est  pris,  mis  en  un  sac  ;  et,  ce  qui  fin  le  pire, 
On  resolut  sa  moTt,fut  il  conpable  ou  non. 
None  of  these  lines  appear  to  me  very  happy;  but 
there  can  be  no  doubt  about  that  in  italics',  which  j 
spoils  the  effect  of  the  preceding,  and  is  feebly  re- 
dundant.    The  last  words  are  almost  equally  bad  ; 
no  question  could  arise  about  the  serpent's  guilt, 
which  had  been  assumed  before.     But  these  petty 
blemishes  are  abundantly  redeemed  by  the  rest  of 
the  fable,  which  is  beautiful  in  choice  of  thoughts 
and  language,  and  may  be  classed  with  the  best  in 
the  collection. 


excites  more  admiration  in  those  who  have 
been  accustomed  to  the  numerous  defects 
of  less  finished  poets,  than  it  retains  in  a 
later  age,  when  others  have  learned  to 
"emulate  and  preserve  the  same  uniformity. 
The  fame  of  Pope  was  transcendant  for 
this  reason,  and  Boileau  is  the  analogue  of 
Pope  in  French  literature. 

13.  The  Art  of  Poetry   has  been  the 
model  of  the  Essay  on  Criticism  ;  HIS  Art  of 
few  poems  more  resemble  each  1'oetry. 
other.    I  will  not  weigh  in  opposite  scales 
two  compositions,  of  which  one  claims  an 
advantage  from  its  originality,  the  other 
from  the  youth  of  its  author.     Both  are 
uncommon  efforts  of  critical  good  sense, 
and  both  are  distinguished  by  their  short 
and  pointed  language,  which  remains  in 
the  memory.     Boileau  has  very  well  in- 
corporated the  thoughts  of  Horace  with 
his  own,  and  given  them  a  skilful  adapta- 
tion to  his  own  times.     He  was  a  bolder 
critic  of  his  contemporaries  than  Pope. 
He  took  up  arms  against  those  who  shared 
the  public  favour,  and  were  placed  by  half 
Paris  among  great  dramatists  and  poets, 
Pradon,  Desmarests,  Brebceuf.     This  was 
not  true  of  the  heroes  of  the  Dunciad. 
His  scorn  was  always  bitter  and  probably 
sometimes  unjust ;  yet  posterity  has  rati- 
fied almost  all  his  judgments.    False  taste, 
it  should  be  remembered,  had  long  infected 
the  poetry  of  Europe  ;   some   steps  had 
been  lately  taken  to  repress  it,  but  ex- 
travagance, affectation,  and  excess  of  re- 
finement are  weeds  that  can  only  be  eradi- 
cated by  a  thorough  cleansing  of  the  soil, 
by  a  process  of  burning  and  paring  which 
leaves  not  a  seed  of  them  in  the  public 
mind.     And  when  we  consider  the  gross 
blemishes  of  this  description  that  deform 
the  earlier  poetry  of  France,  as  of  other 
nations,  we  cannot  blame  the  severity  of 
Boileau,  though  he  may  occasionally  have 
condemned  in  the  mass  what  contained 
some  intermixture  of  real  excellence.  We 
have  become,  of  late  years,  in  England,  so 
enamoured  of  the  beauties  of  our  old  wri- 
ters, and  certainly  they  are  of  a  superior 
kind,  that  we  are  sometimes  more  than  a 
little  blind  to  their  faults. 

14.  By  writing  satires,  epistles,  and  an 
art  of  poetry,  Boileau  has  chal-  comparison 
lenged  an  obvious  comparison  wilh  Horae«- 
with  Horace.     Yet  they  are  very  unlike  ; 
one  easy,  colloquial,  abandoning  himself 
to  every  change  that  arises  in  his  mind, 
the  other  uniform  as  a  regiment  under 
arms,  always  equal,  always  laboured,  in- 
capable of  a  bold  neglect.     Poetry  seems 
to  have  been  the  delight  of  one,  the  task 
of  the  other.     The  pain  that  Boileau  must 
have  felt  in  writing  communicates  itself  in 


FROM  1650  TO  1700. 


371 


some  measure  to  the  reader ;  we  are  fear- 
ful of  losing  some  point,  of  passing  over 
some  epithet  without  sufficiently  perceiv- 
ing its  selection ;  it  is  as  with  those  pic- 
tures, which  are  to  be  viewed  long  and  at- 
tentively, till  our  admiration  of  detached 
proofs  of  skill  becomes  wearisome  by 
repetition. 

15.  The  Lutrin  is  the  most  popular  of 
Th»  i  ,.t  n    the  poems  of  Boileau.     its  sub- 

i.  lie  ijuinu.    .         A.  .  _ 

ject  is  ill  chosen  ;  neither  inter- 
est nor  variety  could  be  given  to  it.  Tas- 
soni  and  Pope  have  the  advantage  in  this 
respect ;  if  their  leading  theme  is  trifling, 
\ve  lose  sight  of  it  in  the  gay  liveliness  of 
description  and  episode.  In  Boileau,  after 
we  have  once  been  told  that  the  canons 
of  a  church  spend  their  lives  in  sleep  and 
eating,  we  have  no  more  to  learn,  and 
grow  tired  of  keeping  company  with  a  race 
so  stupid  and  sensual.  But  the  poignant 
wit  and  satire,  the  elegance  and  correct- 
ness of  numberless  couplets,  as  well  as  the 
ingenious  adaptation  of  classical  passages, 
redeem  this  poem,  and  confirm  its  high 
place  in  the  mock-heroic  line. 

16.  The  great  deficiency  of  Boileau  is 
General  char-  insensibility.     Far  below  Pope 
acier  of  his    or  even  Dryden  in  tins  essen- 
tial  quality,  which   the  moral 

epistle  or  satire  not  only  admits,  but  re- 
quires, he  rarely  quits  two  paths,  those  of 
reason  and  of  raillery.  His  tone  on  moral 
subjects  is  firm  and  severe,  but  not  very 
noble  ;  a  trait  of  pathos,  a  single  touch  of 
pity  or  tenderness,  will  rarely  be  found. 
This  of  itself  serves  to  give  a  dryness  to 
his  poetry,  and  it  may  be  doubtful,  though 
most  have  read  Boileau,  whether  many 
have  read  him  twice. 

17.  Jthe  pompous  tone  of  Ronsard  and 
Lyric  poelfy  Uu  Bartas  had  become  ridicu- 
lighter  than  lous  in  the  reign  of  Louis  XIV. 
before.          Evcn  that  of  Malherbe  was  too 
elevated  for  the  public  taste  ;  none,  at  least, 
imitated  that  writer,  though  the  critics  had 
set  the  example  of  admiring  him.    Boileau, 
who  had   done  much  to  turn   away  the 
world   from   imagination  to   plain  sense, 
once  attempted  to  emulate  the  grandilo- 
quent strains  of  Pindar  in  an  ode  on  the 
taking  of  Namur,  but  witli  no  such  suc- 
cess as  could  encourage  himself  or  others 
to  repeat  the  experiment.     Yet  there  was 
no   want  of  gravity  or  elevation  in  the 
prose  writers  of  France,  nor  in  the  trage- 
dies of  Racine.     But  the  French  language 
is  not  very  well  adapted  for  the   higher 
kind  of  lyric  poetry,  while  it  suits  admira- 
bly the  lighter  forms  of  song  and  epigram. 
And  their  poets,  in  this  age,  were  almost 
entirely  men  living  at  Paris,  either  in  the 
court,  or,  at  least,  in  a  refined  society,  the 


most  adverse  of  all  to  the  poetical  charac- 
ter. The  influence  of  wit  and  politeness 
is  generally  directed  towards  rendering 
enthusiasm  or  warmth  of  fancy  ridiculous ; 
and  without  these  no  great  energy  of  ge- 
nius can  be  displayed.  But,  in  their  prop- 
er department,  several  poets  of  consider- 
able merit  appeared. 

18.  Benserade  was  called  peculiarly  the 
poet   of  the   court;    for  twenty  B 
years  it  was  his  business  to  com- 
pose verses  for  the  ballets  represented  be- 
fore  the   king.     His   skill  and  tact  were 
shown  in  delicate  contrivances  to  make 
those  who  supported   the   characters  of 
gods  and  goddesses  in  these  fictions,  being 
the  nobles  and  ladies  of  the  court,  betray 
their  real  inclinations,  and  sometimes  their 
gallantries.    He  even  presumed  to  shadow 
in  this  manner  the  passion  of  Louis  for 
Mademoiselle  La  Valliere,  before  it  was 
publicly  acknowledged.     Benserade  must 
have  had  no  small  ingenuity  and  adroit- 
ness ;  but  his  verses  did  not  survive  those 
who  called   them   forth.     In  a  different 
school,  not    essentially,   perhaps,   much 
more   vicious   than  the   court,  but  more 
careless  of  appearances,  and  rather  proud 
of  an  immortality  which  it  had  no  interest 
to  conceal,  that  of  Ninon  1'Enclos,  several 
of  higher  reputation  grew  up;    Chapelle 
(whose  real  name  was  L'Huillier),  La  Fare, 
Bachaumont,   Lainez,  and  Ohau-  Chauljeu 
lieu.     The  first,  perhaps,  and  cer- 
tainly the  last  of  these,  are  worthy  to  be 
remembered.     La   Harpe  has   said,  that 
Chaulieu  alone  retains  a  claim  to  be  read 
in  a  style  where  Voltaire  has  so  much  left 
all  others  behind,  that  no  comparison  with 
him  can  ever  be  admitted.     Chaulieu  was 
an  original  genius  ;  his  poetry  has  a  mark- 
ed character,  being  a  happy  mixture  of  a 
gentle  and  peaceable  philosophy  with  a 
lively  imagination.     His  verses  flow  from 
his    soul ;    and,  though    often    negligent 
through  indolence,  are  never  in  bad  taste 
or   affected.     Harmony  of  versification, 
grace  and  gayety,  with  a  voluptuous  and 
Epicurean,  but  mild  and  benevolent  turn 
of  thought,  belong  to  Chaulieu,  and  these 
are  qualities  which  do  not  fail  to  attract 
the  majority  of  readers.* 

19.  It  is  rather  singular  that  a  style  so 
uncongenial  to  the  spirit  of  the  age  pastoral 
as   pastoral    poetry    appears    was  P°etr>- 
quite  as  much  cultivated  as  before.     But 
it  is  still  true   that  the  spirit  of  the  age 
gained  the  victory,  and  drove  the  shep- 
herds from  their  shady  bowers,  though 
without  substituting  anything  more  ration- 
al in  the  fairy  tales  which  superseded  the 

*  La  Harpe.    Bouterwek,  vl,  127.    Biogr.  Unit. 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


372 

pastoral  romance.  At  the  middle  of  the 
century,  and  partially  till  near  its  close, 
the  style  of  D'Urfe  and  Scudery  retained 
its  popularity.  Three  poets  of  the  age  of 
Semi*  Louis  were  known  in  pastoral ;  Se- 
grais,  Madame  Deshoulieres,  and 
Fontenelle.  The  first  belongs  most  to  the 
genuine  school  of  modern  pastoral  ;  he  is 
elegant,  romantic,  full  of  complaining  love ; 
the  Spanish  and  French  romances  had 
been  his  model  in  invention,  as  Virgil  was 
in  style.  La  Harpe  allows  him  nature, 
sweetness,  and  sentiment,  but  he  cannot 
emulate  the  vivid  colouring  of  Virgil ;  and 
the  language  of  his  shepherds,  though  sim- 
ple, wants  elegance  and  harmony.  The 
tone  of  his  pastorals  seem  rather  insipid, 
though  La  Harpe  has  quoted  some  pleas- 
Deshou-  ing  lines.  Madame  Deshoulieres, 
litres.  wjth  a  purer  style  than  Segrais,  ac- 
cording to  the  same  critic,  has  less  genius. 
Others  have  thought  her  Idyls  the  best 
in  the  language.*  But  these  seem  to  be 
merely  trivial  moralities  addressed  to 
flowers,  brooks,  and  sheep,  sometimes  ex- 
pressed in  a  manner  both  ingenious  and 
natural,  but,  on  the  whole,  too  feeble  to 
give  much  pleasure.  Bouterwek  observes 
that  her  poetry  is  to  be  considered  as  that 
of  a  woman,  and  that  its  pastoral  morality 
would  be  somewhat  childish  in  the  mouth 
of  man  ;  whether  this  says  more  for  the 
lady  or  against  her  sex,  1  must  leave  to 
the  reader.  She  has  occasionally  some 
very  pleasing  and  even  poetical  passages.! 

Fontenelle.   The  third  among  these  Poets  of 

the  pipe  is  Fontenelle.  But  his 
pastorals,  as  Bouterwek  says,  are  too  ar- 
tificial for  the  ancient  school,  and  too  cold 
for  the  romantic.  La  Harpe  blames,  be- 
sides this  general  fault,  the  negligent  and 
prosaic  phrases  of  his  style.  The  best  is 
that  entitled  Ismene.  It  is.  in  fact,  a  poem 
for  the  world  ;  yet,  as  love  and  its  artifices 
are  found  everywhere,  we  cannot  censure 
anything  as  absolutely  unfit  for  pastoral, 
save  a  certain  refinement  which  belonged 
to  the  author  in  everything,  and  which  in- 
terferes with  our  sense  of  rural  simplicity. 
20.  In  the  superior  walks  of  poetry 
Bad  epic  France  had  nothing  of  which  she 
poems,  has  been  inclined  to  boast.  Chape- 
lain,  a  man  of  some  credit  as  a  critic,  pro- 
duced his  long-laboured  epic,  La  Pucelle, 
in  1656,  which  is  only  remembered  by  the 
insulting  ridicule  of  Boileau.  A  similar 
fate  has  fallen  on  the  Clovis  of  Desma- 
rests,  published  in  1684,  though  the  Ger- 
man historian  of  literature  has  extolled 
the  richness  of  imagination  it  shows,  and 
observed  that  if  those  who  saw  nothing 


but  a  fantastic  writer  in  Desmarests  had 
possessed  as  much  fancy,  the  national  po- 
etry would  have  been  of  a  higher  charac- 
ter.* Breboenf 's  translation  of  the  Phar- 
salia  is  spirited,  but  very  extravagant. 

21.  The  literature  of  Germany  was  now 
more  corrupted  by  bad  taste  than  German 
ever.  A  second  Silcsian  school,  P°«'O'- 
but  much  inferior  to  that  of  Opitz,  was 
founded  by  Hofimanswaldau  and  Lohen- 
stein.  The  first  had  great  facility,  and 
imitated  Ovid  and  Marini  with  some  suc- 
cess. The  second,  with  worse  taste,  al- 
ways tumid  and  striving  at  something  el- 
evated, so  that  the  Lohenstein  swell  be- 
came a  by-word  with  later  critics,  is  su- 
perior to  Hoffmanswaldau  in  richness  of 
fancy,  in  poetical  invention,  and  in  warmth 
of  feeling  for  all  that  is  noble  and  great. 
About  the  end  of  the  century  arose  a  new 
style,  known  by  the  unhappy  name  spirit- 
less (geistlos),  which,  avoiding  the  tone  of 
Lohenstein,  became  wholly  tame  and  flat.f 


Biogr.  Univ. 


t  Bouterwek,  vi.,  152. 


SECT.  III.     ON  ENGLISH  POETRY. 

Waller. —  Butler.—  Milton  —  Dryden.— The  Minor 
Poets. 

22.  WE  might  have  placed  Waller  in  the 
former  division  of  the  seventeenth 
century  with  no  more  impropriety 
than  we  might  have  reserved  Cowley  for 
the  latter ;  both  belong,  by  the  date  of  their 
writings,  to  the  two  periods.  And  perhaps 
the  poetry  of  Waller  bears  rather  the 
stamp  of  the  first  Charles's  age  than  of 
that  which  ensued.  His  reputation  was 
great,  and  somewhat  more  durable  than 
that  of  similar  poets  have  generally  been  ; 
he  did  not  witness  its  decay  in  hfe  own 
protracted  life,  nor  was  it  much  diminish- 
ed at  the  beginning  of  the  next  century. 
Nor  was  this  wholly  undeserved.  Waller 
has  a  more  uniform  elegance,  a  more  sure 
facility  and  happiness  of  expression,  and, 
above  all,  a  greater  exemption  from  gla- 
ring faults,  such  as  pedantry,  extravagance, 
conceit,  quaintness,  obscurity,  ungram- 
matical  and  unmeaning  constructions,  than 
any  of  the  Caroline  era  with  whom  he 
would  naturally  be  compared.  We  have 
only  to  open  Carew  or  Lovelace  to  per- 
ceive the  difference ;  not  that  Waller  is 
wholly  without  some  of  these  faults,  but 
that  they  are  much  less  frequent.  If  oth- 
ers may  have  brighter  passages  of  fancy 
or  sentiment,  which  is  not  difficult,  he 

*  Bouterwek,  vi.,  157. 

t  Id.,  vol.  x.,  p.  288.     Heinsius,  iv.,  287.     Eirh- 
horn,  Geschichte  der  Cultur,  iv.,  776. 


FROM  1650  TO  1700. 


husbands  better  his  resources,  and,  thoug 
left  behind  in  the  beginning  of  the  race 
comes  sooner  to  the  goal.  His  Panegyri 
on  Cromwell  was  celebrated.  "  Such  a  se 
ries  of  verse,"  it  is  said  by  Johnson,  "  ha 
rarely  appeared  before  in  the  Kfiglish  Ian 
guage.  Of  these  lines  some  are  gram 
some  are  graceful,  and  all  are  musical 
There  is  now  and  then  a  feeble  verse  or 
trifling  thought;  but  its  great  fault  is  th 
choice  of  its  hero."  It  may  not  be  the  opin 
ion  of  all,  that  Cromwell's  actions  were  o 
that  obscure  and  pitiful  character  whic] 
the  majesty  of  song  rejects,  and  Johnsoi 
has  before  observed  that  Waller's  choic( 
of  encomiastic  topics  in  this  poem  is  ver} 
udicious.  Yet  his  deficiency  in  poetica 
vigour  will  surely  be  traced  in  this  com 
position  ;  if  he  rarely  sinks,  he  never  rises 
very  high,  and  we  find  much  good  sens< 
and  selection,  much  skill  in  the  mech.au 
ism  of  language  and  metre,  without  ardoui 
and  without  imagination.  In  his  amorous 
poetry  he  has  little  passion  or  sensibility 
but  he  is  never  free  and  petulant,  never 
tedious,  and  never  absurd.  His  praise 
consists  much  in  negations  ;  but  in  a  com- 
parative estimate,  perhaps  negations  ought 
to  count  for  a  good  deal. 

23.  Hudibras  was  incomparably  more 
Buiier's  popular  .than  Paradise  Lost ;  no 
Hudibras.  p0em  jn  our  language  rose  at  once 
to  greater  reputation.  Nor  can  this  be 
called  ephemeral,  like  that  of  most  politi- 
cal poetry.  For  at  least  half  a  century 
after  its  publication  it  was  generally  read 
and  perpetually  quoted.  The  wit  of  But- 
ler has  still  preserved  many  lines ;  but 
Hudibras  now  attracts  comparatively  few 
readers.  The  eulogies  of  Johnson  seem 
rather  adapted  to  what  he  remembered  to 
have  been  the  fame  of  Butler,,  than  to  the 
feelings  of  the  surrounding  generation; 
and  since  his  time,  new  sources  of  amuse- 
ment have  sprung  up,  and  writers  of  a 
more  intelligible  pleasantry  have  super- 
seded those  of  the  seventeenth  century. 
In  the  fiction  of  Hudibras  there  was  never 
much  to  divert  the  reader,  and  there  is 
still  less  left  at  present.  But  what  has 
been  censured  as  a  fault,  the  length  of  di- 
alogue, which  puts  the  fiction  out  of  sight, 
is  in  fact  the  source  of  all  the  pleasure 
that  the  work  affords.  The  sense  of  But- 
ler is  masculine,  his  wit  inexhaustible,  and 
it  is  supplied  from  every  source  of  reading 
and  observation.  But  these  sources  are 
often  so  unknown  to  the  reader  that  the 
wit  loses  its  effect  through  the  obscurity 
of  its  allusions,  and  he  yields  to  the  bane 
of  wit,  a  purblind,  mole-like  pedantry. 
His  versification  is  sometimes  spirited, 
and  his  rhymes  humorous  ;  yet  he  wants 


373 

that  ease  and  flow  which  we  require  in 
light  poetry. 

24.  The  subject  of  Paradise  Lost  is  the 
finest  that  has  ever  been  chosen 
for  heroic  poetry  ;  it  is  also  man-  i*™dw>e 
aged  by  Milton  with  remarkable  Choice  or 
skill.  The  Iliad  wants  complete-  subject- 
ness  ;  it  has  a  unity  of  its  own,  but  it  is 
the  unity  of  a  part  where  we  miss  the  re- 
lation to  a  whole.  The  Odyssey  is  per- 
fect enough  in  this  point  of  view  ;  but  the 
subject  is  hardly  extensive  enough  for  a 
legitimate  epic.  The  ^Eneid  is  spread 
over  too  long  a  space,  and  perhaps  the 
latter  books  have  not  that  intimate  con- 
nexion with  the  former  that  an  epic  poem 
requires.  The  Pharsalia  is  open  to  the 
same  criticism  as  the  Iliad.  The  Thebaid 
is  not  deficient  in  unity  or  greatness  of 
action  ;  but  it  is  one  that  possesses  no  s6rt 
of  interest  in  our  eyes.  Tasso  is  far  su- 
perior both  in  choice  and  management  to 
most  of  these.  Yet  the  Fall  of  Man  has  a 
more  general  interest  than  the  Crusade. 

25.  It  must  be  owned,  nevertheless,  that 
a  religious  epic  labours  under  some  O]H5n  to 
disadvantages  ;  in  proportion  as  it  some  dir- 
attracts  those  who  hold  the  same  ficultle3- 
tenets  with  the  author,  it  is  regarded  by 
those  who  dissent  from  him  with  indiffer- 
ence or  aversion.     It  is  said  thai  the  dis- 
covery of  Milton's  Arianism,  in  this  rigid 
generation,  has  already  impaired  the  sale 
of  Paradise  Lost.     It  is  also  difficult  to 

nlarge  or  adorn  such  a  story  by  fiction. 
Milton  has  done  much  in  this  way ;  yet  he 
>vas  partly  restrained  by  the  necessity  of 
jonforming  to  Scripture. 

26.  The  ordonnance  or  composition  of 
he  Paradise  Lost  is  admirable  ;  iis  arrange- 

and  here  we  perceive  the  advan-  mem- 
age  which  Milton's  great  familiarity  with 
he  Greek  theatre,  and  his  own  original 
scheme  of  the  poem  had  given  him.  Ev- 
ry  part  succeeds  in  an  order,  noble,  clear, 
and  natural.  It  might  have  been  wished, 
ndeed,  that  the  vision  of  the  eleventh  book 
md  not  been  changed  into  the  colder  nar- 
ration of  the  twelfth.  But  what  can  be 
nore  majestic  than  the  first,  two  books 
which  open  this  great  drama  1  It  is  true 
hat  they  rather  serve  to  confirm  the  sneer 
>f  Dryden,  that  Satan  is  Milton's  hero, 
ince  they  develop  a  plan  of  action  in  that 
lotentate'which  is  ultimately  successful; 
he  triumph  that  he  and  his  host  must  ex- 
)crience  in  the  fall  of  man  being  hardly 
ompensated  by  their  temporary  conver- 
ion  into  serpents ;  a  fiction  rather  too 
rotesque.  But  it  is,  perhaps,  only  ped- 
ntry  to  talk  about  the  hero,  as  if  a  high 
ersonage  were  absolutely  required  in  an. 
pic  poem  to  predominate  over  the  rest. 


374 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


The  conception  of  Satan  is  doubtless  the 
first  effort  of  Milton's  genius.  Dante  could 
not  have  ventured  to  spare  so  much  lustre 
for  a  ruined  archangel,  in  an  age  when  no- 
thing less  than  horns  and  a  tail  were  the 
orthodox  creed.* 

27.  Milton  has  displayed  great  skill  in 
n,«r      ,•«  the   delineations  of   Adam    and 

^   lid l  .tut, I  > 

of  Adam  Eve  ;  he  does  not  dress  them  up, 
and  Eve.  after  the  fashion  of  orthodox  the- 
ology, which  had  no  spell  to  bind  his  free 
spirit,  in  the  fancied  robes  of  primitive 
righteousness.  South,  in  one  of  his  ser 
mons,  has  drawn  a  picture  of  unfallen  man 
which  is  even  poetical ;  but  it  might  be 
asked  by  the  reader,  Why,  then,  did  he 
fall  ?  The  first  pair  of  Milton  are  inno- 
cent, of  course,  but  not  less  frail  than  their 
posterity ;  nor,  except  one  circumstance, 
which  seems  rather  physical  intoxication 


*  Coleridge  has  a  fine  passage  which  I  cannot 
resist  my  desire  to  transcribe.  "  The  character  of 
Satan  is  pride  and  sensual  indulgence,  finding  in  it- 
self the  motive  of  action.  It  is  the  character  so  of- 
ten seen  in  little  on  the  political  stage'.  It  exhibits 
all  the  restlessness,  temerity,  and  cunning  which 
have  marked  the  mighty  hunters  of  mankind  from 
Nimrod  to  Napoleon.  The  common  fascination  of 
man  is  that  these  great  men,  as  they  are  called, 
must  act  from  some  great  motive.  Milton  has  care- 
fully marked  in  his  Satan  the  intense  selfishness, 
the  alcohol  of  egotism,  which  would  rather  reign  in 
hell  than  serve  in  heaven.  To  place  this  lust  of 
self  in  opposition  to  denial  of  self  or  duty,  ami  to 
show  what  exertions  it  would  make,  and  what 
pains  endure  to  accomplish  its  end,  is  Milton's  par- 
ticular object  in  the  character  of  Satan.  But  around 
this  character  he  has  thrown  a  singularity  of  da- 
ring, a  grandeur  of  sufferance,  and  a  ruined  splen- 
dour, which  constitute  the  very  height  of  poetic 
sublimity." — Coleridge's  Remains,  p.  176. 

In  reading  such  a  paragraph  as  this,  we  are  struck 
by  the  vast  improvement  of  the  highest  criticism, 
the  philosophy  of  aesthetics,  since  the  days  of  Addi- 
son.  His  papers  in  the  Spectator  on  Paradise  Lost 
were  perhaps  superior  to  any  criticism  that  had 
been  written  in  our  language  ;  and  we  must  always 
acknowledge  their  good  sense,  their  judiciousness, 
and  the  vast  service  they  did  to  our  literature,  in 
settling  the  Paradise  Lost  on  its  proper  level.  But 
how  little  they  satisfy  ,us,  even  in  treating  of  the 
natura  naturata,  the  poem  itself !  and  how  little  con- 
ception they  show  of  the  natura  naturans,  the  indi- 
vidual genius  of  the  author  !  Even  in  the  periodi- 
cal criticism  of  the  present  day,  in  the  midst  of 
much  that  is  affected,  much  that  is  precipitate, 
much  that  is  written  for  mere  display,  we  find  oc- 
casional reflections  of  a  profundity  and  discrimina- 
tion which  we  should  seek  in  vain  through  Dryden, 
or  Addison,  or  the  two  Wartons,  or  even  "Johnson, 
though  much  superior  to  the  rest.  Kurd  has  per- 
haps the  merit  of  being  the  first  who  in  this  coun- 
try aimed  at  philosophical  criticism ;  he  had  great 
ingenuity,  a  good  deal  of  reading,  and  a  facility  in 
applying  it ;  but  he  did  not  feel  very  deeply,  was 
somewhat  of  a  coxcomb,  and,  having  always  before 
his  eyes  a  model  neither  good  in  itself,  nor  made 
for  him  to  emulate,  he  assumes  a  dogmatic  arro- 
gance, which,  as  it  always  offends  the  reader,  so,  for 
the  most  part,  stands  in  the  way  of  the  author's  own 
search  for  truth. 


than  anything  else,  do  we  find  any  sign  ol 
depravity  superinduced  upon  their  trans- 
gression. It  might  even  be  made  a  ques- 
tion for  profound  theologians,  whether  1C  ve, 
by  taking  amiss  what  Adam  had  said,  and 
by  self-conceit,  did  not  sin  before  she  tast- 
ed the  fatal  apple.  The  necessary  pauci- 
ty of  actors  in  Paradise  Lost  is  perhaps 
the  apology  of  Sin  and  Death  ;  they  will 
not  bear  exact  criticism,  yet  we  do  not 
wish  them  away. 

28.  The  comparison  of  Milton  with  Ho- 
mer has  been  founded  on  the  ¥I 

,     ,        ,  •  ,.  Ho  owes  less 

acknowledged  pre-eminence  of  lo  i>0mer 
each  in  his  own  language,  and  ttian  the 
on  the  lax  application  of  the  traj-'edi 
word  epic  to  their  great  poems.  But  there 
was  not  .much  in  common  either  between 
their  genius  or  its  products  ;  and  Milton 
has  taken  less  in  direct  imitation  from  Ho- 
mer than  from  several  other  poets.  His 
favourites  had  rather  been  Sophocles  and 
Euripides  ;  to  them  he  owes  the  structure 
of  his  blank  verse,  his  swell  and  dignity 
of  style,  his  grave  enunciation  of  moral 
and  abstract  sentiment,  his  tone  of  descrip- 
tion, neither  condensed  like  that  of  Dante, 
nor  spread  out  with  the  diffuseness  of  the 
other  Italians,  and  of  Homer  himself. 
Next  to  these  Greek  tragedians,  Virgil 
seems  to  have  been  his  model ;  with  the 
minor  Latin  poets,  except  Ovid,  he  does 
not,  I  think,  show  any  great  familiarity  ; 
and,  though  abundantly  conversant  with 
Ariosto,  Tasso,  and  Marini,  we  cannot  say 
that  they  influenced  his  manner,  which, 
unlike  theirs,  is  severe  and  stately,  never 
light,  nor,  in  the  sense  we  should  apply 
the  words  to  them,  rapid  and  animated.* 

29.  To   Dante,   however,  he   bears    a 
much  greater  likeness.    He  has,  compared 
in  common  with  that  poet,  a  uni-  witl> I)ante 
form  seriousness,  for  the  brighter  colour- 
ing of  both  is  but  the  smile  of  a  pensive 
mind,  a  fondness  for  argumentative  speech, 
and  for  the  same  strain  of  argument.  This, 
indeed,  proceeds  in  part  from  the  general 
similarity,  the  religious  and  even  theolo- 
gical cast  of  their  subjects  :  I  advert  par- 
ticularly to  the  last  part  of  Dante's  poem. 
We  may  almost  say,  when  we  look  to  the 
resemblance  of  their  prose  writings,  in 
the  proud  sense  of  being  born  for  some 
great  achievement,  which  breathes  through 
the  Vita  Nuova,  as  it  does  through  Mil- 
ton's earlier  treatises,  that  they  were  twin 
spirits,  and  that  each  might  have  anima- 


*  The  solemnity  of  Milton  is  striking  in  those 
passages  where  some  other  poets  would  indulge  a 
little  in  voluptuousness,  and  the  more  so,  because 
this  is  not  wholly  uncongenial  to  him.  A  few  lines 
in  Paradise  Lost  are  rather  too  plain,  and  their 
gravity  makes  them  worse. 


FROM  1650  TO  1700. 


ted  the  other's  body  ;  that  each  would,  a 
it  were,  have  been  the  other,  if  he  ha 
lived  in  the  other's  age.  As  it  is,  1  ii 
cline  to  prefer  Milton,  that  is,  the  Par? 
dise  Lost,  both  because  the  subject  i 
more  extensive,  and  because  the  resource 
of  his  genius  are  more  multifarious.  Dant 
sins  more  against  good  taste,  but  only,  per 
haps,  because  there  was  no  good  taste  i 
his  time  ;  for  Milton  has  also  too  much 
disposition  to  make  the  grotesque  acces 
sory  to  the  terrible.  Could  Milton  hav 
written  the  lines  on  Ugolino  !  Perhap 
he  could.  Those  on  Francesca  1  Not, 
think,  every  line.  Could  Dante  have  plan 
ned  such  a  poem  as  Paradise  Lost  1  No 
certainly,  being  Dante  in  1300  ;  but,  livhij 
when  Milton  did,  perhaps  he  could.  It  is 
however,  useless  to  go  on  with  question 
that  no  one  can  fully  answer.  To  com 
pare  the  two  poets,  read  two  or  three  can 
tos  of  the  Purgatory  or  Paradise,  and  ther 
two  or  three  hundred  lines  of  Paradise  Lost 
Then  take  Homer,  or  even  Virgil,  the  dif 
ference  will  be  striking.  Yet,  notwith 
standing  this  analogy  of  their  minds,  i 
have  not  perceived  that  Milton  imitate 
Dante  very  often,  probably  from  having 
committed  less  to  memory  while  young 
(and  Dante  was  not  the  favourite  poet  of 
Italy  when  Miltdtt  was  there),  than  of 
Ariosto  and  TaSfco. 

30.  Each  of  these  great  men  chose  the 
subject  that  suited  his  natural  temper  and 
genius.  What,  it  is  curious  to  conjec- 
ture, would  have  been  Milton's  success  in 
his  original  design,  a  British  story  1  Far 
less,  surely,  than  in  Paradise  Lost ;  he 
wanted  the  rapidity  of  the  common  he- 
roic poem,  and  would  always  have  been 
sententious,  perhaps  arid  and  heavy.  Yet, 
even  as  religious  poets,  there  are  several 
remarkable  distinctions  between  Milton 
and  Dante.  It  has  been  justly  observed, 
that  in  the  Paradise  of  Dante  he  makes 
use  of  but  three  leading  ideas,  light,  mu- 
sic, and  motion ;  and  that  Milton  has 
drawn  Heaven  in  less  pure  and  spiritual 
colours.*  The  philosophical  imagination 
of  the  former,  in  this  third  part  of  his  po- 
em, almost  defecated  from  all  sublunary 
things  by  long  and  solitary  musing,  spirit- 
ualizes all  it  touches.  The  genius  of 
Milton,  though  itself  subjective,  was  less 


*  Quarterly  Review,  June,  1825.  This  article 
contains  some  good  and  some  questionable  re- 
marks on  Milton  ;  among  the  latter  I  reckon  the 
proposition,  that  his  contempt  for  women  is  shown 
it  the  delineation  of  Eve  ;  an  opinion  not  that  of 
Addison  or  of  many  others  who  have  thought  her 
exquisitely  drawn.  It  is  true,  that  if  Milton  had 
made  her  a  wit  or  a  blue,  the  fall  would  have  been 
accounted  for  with  as  little  difficulty  as  possible, 
and  spared  the  serpent  his  trouble. 


375 

so  than  that  of  Dante  ;  and  he  has  to  re- 
count, to  describe,  to  bring  deeds  and  pas- 
sions before  the  eye.  And  two  peculiar 
causes  may  be  assigned  for  this  differ- 
ence in  the  treatment  of  celestial  things 
between  the  Divine  Comedy  and  the  Par- 
adise Lost ;  ihe  dramatic  form  which  Mil- 
ton had  originally  designed  to  adopt,  and 
his  own  theological  bias  towards  anthro- 
pomorphitism,  which  his  posthumous  trea- 
tise on  religion  has  brought  to  light.  This 
was,  no  doubt,  in  some  measure  inevitable 
in  such  a  subject  as  that  of  Paradise  Lost ; 
yet  much  that  is  ascribed  to  God,  some- 
times with  the  sanction  of  Scripture,  some- 
times without  it,  is  not  wholly  pleasing ; 
such  as  "  the  oath  that  shook  Heaven's 
whole  circumference,"  and  several  other 
images  of  the  same  kind,  which  bring 
down  the  Deity  in  a  manner  not  conso- 
nant to  philosophical  religion,  however  it 
may  be  borne  out  by  the  sensual  analo- 
gies or  mythic  symbolism  of  Oriental  wri- 
ting.* 

31.  We.  rarely  meet  with  feeble  lines 
in  Paradise  Lost,f  though  with  Elevation  of 
many  that  are  hard,  and,  in  a  his  s|y|e- 
common  use  of  the  word,  might  bw  called 
prosaic.  Yet  few  are  truly  prosaic  ;  few 
wherein  the  tone  is  not  some  way  distin- 
guished from  prose.  The  very  artificial 
style  of  Milton,  sparing  in  English  idiom, 
and  his  study  of  a  rhythm,  not  always  the 
most  grateful  to  our  ears,  but  preserving 
lis  blank  verse  from  a  trivial  flow,  is  the 
ause  of  this  elevation.  It  is  at  least 
more  removed  from  a  prosaic  cadence 
han  the  slovenly  rhymes  of  such  con- 
emporary  poets  as  Chamberlayne.  His 


»  Johnson  thinks  that  Milton  should  have  se- 
ured  the  consistency  of  this  poem  by  keeping  im- 
nateriality  out  of  sight,  and  enticing  his  reader  to 
rop  it  from  his  thoughts.  But  here  the  subject 
orbade  him  to  preserve  consistency,  if,  indeed, 
here  be  inconsistency  in  supposing  a  rapid  as- 
umption  of  form  by  spiritual  beings.  For,  though 
tie  instance  that  Johnson  alleges  of  inconsistency 
i  Satan's  animating  a  toad  was  not  necessary,  yet 
is  animation  of  the  serpent  was  absolutely  indis- 
ensable.  And  the  same  has  been  done  by  other 
oets,  who  do  not  scruple  to  suppose  their  gods, 
neir  fairies  or  devils,  or  their  allegorical  person- 
ges,  inspiring  thoughts,  and  even  uniting  them- 
elves  with  the  soul,  as  well  as  assuming  all  kinds 
f  form,  though  their  natural  appearance  is  almost 
Iways  anthropomorphic.  And,  after  all,  Satan 
oes  not  animate  a  real  toad,  but  takes  the  shape 
f  one.  "  Squat  like  a  toad  close  by  the  ear  of 
>ve."  But  he  does  not  enter  a  real  serpent,  so 
lat  the  instance  of  Johnson  is  ill  chosen.  II  he 
ad  mentioned  the  serpent,  every  one  would  have 
een  that  the  identity  of  the  animal  serpent  with 
atan  is  part  of  the  original  account. 

t  One  of  the  few  exceptions  is  in  the  sublime 
sscription  of  Death,  where  a  wretched  hemistich, 
Fierce  as  ten  furies,"  stands  as  an  unsightly 
emish. 


376 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


versification  is  entirely  his  own,  framed 
on  a  Latin  and  chiefly  a  Virgilian  model, 
the  pause  less  frequently  resting  on  the 
close  of  the  line  than  in  Homer,  and  much 
less  than  in  our  own  dramatic  poets.  But 
it  is  also  possible  that  the  Italian  and 
Spanish  blank  verse  may  have  had  some 
effect  upon  his  ear. 

32.  In   the   numerous   imitations,  and 
His  blind-  still  more   numerous   traces   of 
ness.          older  poetry  which  we  perceive 
in  Paradise  Lost,  it  is  always  to  be  kept 
in  mind  that  he  had  only  his  recollection 
to  rely  upon.*     His  blindness  seems  to 
have  been  complete  before  1654 ;  and  I 
scarcely  think  that  he  had  begun  his  poem 
before  the  anxiety  and  trouble  into  which 
the  public  strife  of  the  commonwealth  and 
the  Restoration  had  thrown  him  gave  lei- 
sure for  immortal  occupations.     Then  the 
remembrance  of  early  reading  came  over 
his  dark  and  lonely  path  like  the  moon 
emerging  from  the  clouds.     Then  it  was 
that  the  muse  was  truly  his ;  not  only  as 
she  poured  her  creative  inspiration  into 
his  mind,  but  as  the  daughter  of  Memory, 
coming  with  fragments  of  ancient  melo- 
dies, the  voice  of  Euripides,  and  Homer, 
and  Tasso ;  sounds  that  he  had  loved  in 
youth,  and  treasured  up  for  the  solace  of 
his  age.     They  who,  though  not  enduring 
the  calamity  of  Milton,  have  known  what 
it  is,  when  afar  from  books,  in  solitude  or 
in  travelling,  or  in  the  intervals  of  worldly 
care,  to  feed  on  poetical  recollections,  to 
murmur  over  the  beautiful  lines  whose 
cadence  has  long  delighted  their  ear,  to 
recall  the  sentiments  and  images  which 
retain  by  association  the  charm  that  early 
years  once  gave  them — they  will  feel  the 
inestimable  value  of  committing  to  the 
memory,  in  the  prime  of  its  power,  what 
it  will  easily  receive  and  indelibly  retain. 
I  know  not,  indeed,  whether  an  education 
that  deals  much  with  poetry,  such  as  is 
still  usual  in  England,  has  any  more  solid 
argument  among  many  in  its  favour,  than 
that  it  lays  the  foundation  of  intellectual 
pleasures  at  the  other  extreme  of  life. 

33.  It  is  owing  in  part  to  his  blindness, 
His  passion  but  more,  perhaps,  to  his  gener- 
for  music,     al  residence  in  a  city,  that  Mil- 
ton, in  the  words  of  Coleridge,  is  "  not  a 
picturesque,  but  a  musical  poet ;"  or,  as  I 
would  prefer  to  say,  is  the  latter  more  of 
the  two.     He  describes  visible  things,  and 
often  with  great  powers  of  rendering  them 

*  I  take  this  opportunity  of  mentioning,  on  the 
authority  of  Mr.  Todd's  Inquiry  into  the  Origin  of 
Paradise  Lost  (edit  of  Milton,  vol.  ii ,  p.  229),  that 
Lauder,  whom  I  have  taxed  with  ignorance,  p.  186  of 
this  vol.,  really  published  the  poem  of  Barlams  on  the 
nuptials  of  Adam  and  Eve. 


manifest,  what  the  Greeks  called  evapyeta, 
though  seldom  with  so  much  circumstan- 
tial exactness  of  observation  as  Spenser 
or  Dante  ;  but  he  feels  music.  The  sense 
of  vision  delighted  his  imagination,  but 
that  of  sound  wrapped  his  whole  soul  in 
ecstasy.  One  of  his  trifling  faults  may 
be  connected  with  this,  the  excessive  pas- 
sion he  displays  for  stringing  together  so- 
norous names,  sometimes  so  obscure  that 
the  reader  associates  nothing  with  them, 
as  the  word  Namancos  in  Lycidas,  which 
long  baffled  the  commentators.  Hence 
his  catalogues,  unlike  those  of  Homer  and 
Virgil,  are  sometimes  merely  ornamental 
and  misplaced.  Thus  the  names  of  un- 
built cities  come  strangely  forward  in 
Adam's  vision,*  though  he  has  afterward 
gone  over  the  same  ground  with  better 
effect  in  Paradise  Regained.  In  this  there 
was  also  a  mixture  of  his  pedantry.  But, 
though  he  was  rather  too  ostentatious  of 
learning,  the  nature  of  his  subject  de- 
manded a  good  deal  of  episodical  orna- 
ment. And  this,  rather  than  the  prece- 
dents lie  might  have  alleged  from  the  Ital- 
ians and  others,  is  perhaps  the  best  apol- 
ogy for  what  some  grave  critics  have 
censured,  his  frequent  allusions  to  fable 
and  mythology.  These  give  much  Fau!u  in 
relief  to  the  severity  o1*the  poem.  Paradise 
and  few  readers  would  Dispense  lj°sL 
with  them.  Less  excuse  can  be  made 
for  some  affectation  of  science  which  has 
produced  hard  and  unpleasing  lines ;  but 
he  had  been  born  in  an  age  when  more 
credit  was  gained  by  reading  much  than 
by  writing  well.  The  faults,  however,  of 
Paradise  Lost  are,  in  general,  less  to  be 
called  faults  than  necessary  adjuncts  of 
the  qualities  we  most  admire,  and  idiosyn- 
crasies of  a  mighty  genius.  The  verse  of 
Milton  is  sometimes  wanting  in  grace,  and 
almost  always  in  ease ;  but  what  better 
can  be  said  of  his  prose?  His  foreign 
idioms  are  too  frequent  in  the  one,  but 
they  predominate  in  the  other. 

34.  The  slowness  of  Milton's  advance 
to  glory  is  now  generally  owned  ns  progress 
to  have  been  much  exaggerated  :  to  (ame- 
we  might  say  that  the  reverse  was  nearer 
the  truth.  "The  sale  of  1300  copies  in 
two  years,"  says  Johnson,  "  in  opposition 
to  so  much  recent  enmity,  and  to  a  style 
of  versification  new  to  all  and  disgusting 
to  many,  was  an  uncommon  example  of 
the  prevalence  of  genius.  The  demand 
did  not  immediately  increase ;  for  many 
more  readers  than  were  supplied  at  first 
the  nation  did  not  afford.  Only  3000  were 
sold  in  eleven  years."  It  would  hardly. 


*  Par.  Lost,  xi.,  386. 


FROM  1650  TO  1700. 


377 


however,  be  said,  even  in  this  age,  of  a 
poem,  3000  copies  of  which  had  been  sold 
in  eleven  years,  that  its  success  had  been 
small;  and  1  have  some  few  doubts  wheth- 
er Paradise  Lost,  published  eleven  years 
since,  would  have  met  with  a  greater  de- 
mand. There  is  sometimes  a  want  of 
congeniality  in  public  taste  which  no  pow- 
er of  genius  will  overcome.  For  Milton 
it  must  be  said  by  every  one  conversant 
with  the  literature  of  the  age  that  prece- 
ded Addison's  famous  criticism,  from 
which  some  have  dated  the  reputation  of 
Paradise  Lost,  that  he  took  his  place 
among  great  poets  from  the  beginning. 
The  fancy  of  Johnson,  that  few  dared  to 
praise  it,  and  that  "  the  Revolution  put  an 
end  to  the  secrecy  of  love,"  is  without 
foundation ;  the  government  of  Charles 
II.  was  not  so  absurdly  tyrannical,  nor 
did  Dryden,  the  court's  own  poet,  hesitate, 
in  his  preface  to  the  State  of  Innocence, 
published  soon  after  Milton's  death,  to 
speak  of  its  original,  Paradise  Lost,  as 
"  undoubtedly  one  of  the  greatest,  most 
noble,  and  most  sublime  poems  which  ei- 
ther this  age  or  nation  has  produced." 

35.  The  neglect  which   Paradise  Lost 
Paradise    never  experienced,  seems  to  have 
Regained,  been  long  the  lot  of  Paradise  Re- 
gained.     It   was   not   popular  with   the 
world  ;  it  was  long*believed  to  manifest  a 
decay  of  the  poet's  genius,  and.  in  spite 
of  ail  the  critics  have  written,  it  is  still 
but  the  favourite  of  some  whose  predi- 
lections for  the  Miltonic  style  are  very 
strong.     The  subject  is  so  much  less  ca- 
pable of  calling  forth  the  vast  powers  of 
his  mind,  that  we  should  be  unfair  in  com- 
paring it  throughout  with  the  greater  po- 
em :    it  has  been  called  a  model  of  the 
shorter   epic,   an    action   comprehending 
few  characters  and  a  brief  space  of  time.* 
The  love  of  Milton  for  dramatic  dialogue, 
imbibed  from  Greece,  is  still  more  appa- 
rent than  in  Paradise  Lost;    the  whole 
poem,  in  fact,  may  almost  be  accounted  a 
drama  of  primal  simplicity,  the  narrative 
and  descriptive  part  serving  rather  to  di- 
versify and  relieve  the  speeches  of  the 
actors  than  their  speeches,  as  in  the  legit-  \ 
irnate  epic,  to  enliven  the  narration.    Par-  j 
adise   Regained   abounds   with   passages 
equal  to  any  of  the  same  nature  in  Para- 1 
dise  Lost ;  "but  the  argumentative  tone  is 
kept  up  till  it  produces  some  tediousness  ; 
and  perhaps,  on    the  whole,  less   pains 
have  been  exerted  to  adorn  and  elevate 
even  that  which  appeals  to  the  imagina- 
tion. 

36.  Samson  Agonistes  is  the  latest  of 

*  Todd's  Milton,  vol.  v.,  p.  308. 
VOL.  II.— 3  B 


Milton's  poems  ;  we  see  in  it,  per-  Samson 
haps  more  distinctly  than  in  Par-  Aaomstes. 
adise  Regained,  the  ebb  of  a  mighty  tide. 
An  air  of  uncommon  grandeur  prevails 
throughout ;  but  the  language  is  less  poet- 
ical than  in  Paradise  Lost ;  the  vigour  of 
thought  remains,  but  it  wants  much  of  its 
ancient  eloquence.  Nor  is  the  lyric  tone 
well  kept  up  by  the  chorus ;  they  are  too 
sententious,  too  slow  in  movement,  and, 
except  by  the  metre,  are  not  easily  dis- 
tinguishable from  the  other  personages. 
But  this  metre  is  itself  infelicitous ;  the 
lines  being  frequently  of  a  number  of  syl- 
lables not  recognised  in  the  usage  of  Eng- 
lish poetry,  and,  destitute  of  rhythmical 
language,  fall  into  prose.  Milton  seems 
to  have  forgotten  that  the  ancient  chorus 
had  a  musical  accompaniment. 

37.  The  style  of  Samson,  being  essen- 
tially that  of  Paradise  Lost,  may  show  us 
how  much  more  the  latter  poem  is  found- 
ed on  the  Greek  tragedians  than  on  Ho- 
mer.    In  Samson  we  have  sometimes  the 
pompous   tone   of  jftschylus,   more    fre- 
quently the  sustained  majesty  of  Sopho- 
cles ;  but  the  religious  solemnity  of  Mil- 
ton's own  temperament,  as  well  as  the 
nature  of  the  subject,  have  given  a  sort 
of  breadth,  an  unbroken  severity  to  the 
whole  drama.     It  is,  perhaps,  not  very 
popular  even  with  the  lovers  of  poetry ; 
yet,  upon  close  comparison,  we  should  find 
that  it  deserves  a  higher  place  than  many 
of  its  prototypes.     We  might  search  the 
Greek  tragedies  long  for  a  character  so 
powerfully  conceived  and  maintained  as 
that  of  Samson  himself;  and  it   is  only 
conformable  to  the  sculptural   simplicity 
of  that  form  of  drama  which  Milton  adopt- 
ed, that  all  the  rest  should  be  kept  in  sub- 
ordination to  it.     "  It  is  only,"  Johnson 
says,  "by  a  blind  confidence  in  the  ropu 
tation   of  Milton,   that   a  drama  can  be 
praised  in  which  the  intermediate  parts 
have  neither  cause  nor  consequence,  nei- 
ther hasten  nor  retard  the  entastrophe." 
Such  a  drama  is  certainly  not  to  be  nnked 
with  Othello  and  Macbeth,  or  rven  with 
the  CRdipus  or  the  Hippolytus  ;  but  a  Mm- 
ilar  criticism  is  applicable  to  srvernl  fa- 
mous tragedies  in  the  less  artificial  school 
of  antiquity,  to  the   Prometheus  nnd  the 
Persrc  of  ^fischylus,  and.  if  we  look  strict- 
ly, to  not  a  few  of  the  two  other  masters. 

38.  The  poetical  genius  of  Dryden  came 
slowly  to  perfection.      Born  in  prv,vr. . 
1631,  his  first  short  poems,  or,  as  hl^rlier 
we  might  rather  say,  copies  of  ^ 
verses,  were  not  written  till  he  approached 
thirty;  and,  though  some  of  his  dramas, 
not  indeed  of  the  best,  belonsr  to  the  next 
period  of  his  life,  he  had  reached  the  a?e 


378 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


of  fifty  before  his  high  rank  as  a  poet  had 
been  confirmed  by  indubitable  proof.  Yet 
he  had  manifested  a  superiority  to  his  im- 
mediate contemporaries;  his  A straea  Re- 
dux, on  the  Restoration,  is  well  versified  ; 
the  lines  are  seldom  weak,  the  couplets 
have  that  pointed  Banner  which  Cowlcy 
and  Denham  had  taught  the  world  to  re- 
quire ;  they  are  harmonious,  but  not  so 
varied  as  the  style  he  afterward  adopted. 
The  Annas  Mirabilis,  in  1667,  is  of  a  high- 
er cast;  it  is  not  so  animated  as  the  later 
poetry  of  Dryden,  because  the  alternate 
quatrain,  in  which  he  followed  Davenant's 
Gondibert,  is  hostile  to  animation ;  but  it 
is  not  less  favourable  to  another  excel- 
lence, condensed  and  vigorous  thought. 
Davenant,  indeed,  and  Denham  may  be 
reckoned  the  models  of  Dryden,  so  far  as 
this  can  be  said  of  a  man  of  original  ge- 
nius, and  one  far  superior  to  theirs.  The 
distinguishing  characteristic  of  Dryden,  it 
has  been  said  by  Scott,  was  the  power  of 
reasoning  and  expressing  the  result  in  ap- 
propriate language.  This,  indeed,  was  the 
characteristic  of  the  two  we  have  named, 
and,  so  far  as  Dryden  has  displayed  it, 
which  he  eminently  has  done,  he  bears  a 
resemblance  to  them.  But  it  is  insufficient 
praise  for  this  great  poet.  His  rapidity  of 
conception  and  readiness  of  expression  are 
higher  qualities.  He  never  loiters  about 
a  single  thought  or  image,  never  labours 
about  the  turn  of  a  phrase.  The  impres- 
sion upon  our  minds,  that  he  wrote  with 
exceeding  ease,  is  irresistible,  and  I  do  not 
know  that  we  have  any  evidence  to  repel 
it.  The  admiration  of  Dryden  gains  upon 
us,  if  I  may  speak  from  my  own  experi- 
ence, with  advancing  years,  as  we  become 
more  sensible  of  the  difficulty  of  his  style, 
and  of  the  comparative  facility  of  that 
which  is  merely  imaginative. 

39.  Dryden  may  be  considered  as  a  sa- 
Absaiomand  tirical,  a  reasoning,  a  descrip- 
Achiiophei.  tive  and  narrative,  a  lyric  poet, 
and  as  a  translator.  As  a  dramatist,  we 
must  return  to  him  again.  The  greatest 
of  his  satires  is  Absalom  and  Achitophel, 
that,  work  in  which  his  powers  became 
fully  known  to  the  world,  and  which,  as 
manv  think,  he  never  surpassed.  The  ad- 
mirable fitness  of  the  English  couplet  for 
satire  had  never  been  shown  before ;  in 
less  skilful  hands  it  had  been  ineffective. 
He  does  not  frequently,  in  this  poem,  carry 
the  sense  beyond  the  second  line,  which, 
for  the  most  part,  enfeebles  the  emphasis  ; 
his  triplets  are  less  numerous  than  usual, 
but  energetic.  The  spontaneous  ease  of 
expression,  the  rapid  transitions,  the  gen- 
eral elasticity  and  movement,  have  never 
been  excelled.  It  is  superfluous  to  praise 


the  discrimination  and  vivacity  of  the  chief 
characters,  especially  Shaftesbury  and 
Buckingham.  Satire,  however,  is  so  much 
easier  than  panegyric,  that  with  Ormond, 
Ossory,  and  Mulgrave  he  has  not  been 
quite  so  successful.  In  the  second  part 
of  Absalom  and  Achitophel,  written  by 
Tale,  one  long  passage  alone  is  inserted 
by  Dryden.  It  is  excellent  in  its  line  of 
satire,  but  the  line  is  less  elevated ;  the 
persons  delineated  are  less  important,  and 
he  has  indulged  more  his  natural  prone- 
ness  to  virulent  ribaldry.  This  fault  of 
Dryden's  writings,  it  is  just  to  observe, 
belonged  less  to  the  man  than  to  the  age. 
No  libellous  invective,  no  coarseness  of 
allusion,  had  ever  been  spared  towards  a 
private  or  political  enemy.  \Vc  read  with 
nothing  but  disgust  the  satirical  poetry  of 
Cleveland,  Butler,  Oldham,  and  Marvell, 
or  even  of  men  whose  high  rank  did  not 
soften  their  style,  Rochester,  Dorset,  Mul- 
grave. In  Dryden  there  was,  for  the  first 
time,  a  poignancy  of  wit  which  atones  for 
his  severity,  and  a  discretion  even  in  his 
taunts  which  made  them  more  cutting. 

40.  The  Medal,  which  is  in  some  meas- 
ure a  continuation  of  Absalom 

and  Achitophel,  as  it  bears  M 
wholly  on  Shaftesbury,  is  of  unequal  merit, 
and,  on  the  whole,  falls  much  below  the 
former.  In  Mac  Fleeknoe,  his  satire  on 
his  rival  Shadwell,  we  must  allow  for  the 
inferiority  of  the  subject,  which  could  not 
bring  out  so  much  of  Dryden's  higher 
powers  of  mind ;  but  scarcely  one  of  his 
poems  is  more  perfect.  Johnson,  who 
admired  Dryden  almost  as  much  as  he 
could  any  one,  has  yet,  from  his  prone- 
ness  to  critical  ceosure,  very  much  ex- 
aggerated the  poet's  defects.  "  His  faults 
of  negligence  are  beyond  recital.  Such  is 
the  unevenness  of  his  compositions,  that 
ten  lines  are  seldom  found  together  with- 
out something  of  which  the  reader  is 
ashamed."  This  might  be  true,  or  more 
nearly  true,  of  other  poets  of  the  seven- 
teenth century.  Ten  good  consecutive 
lines  will,  perhaps,  rarely  be  found,  except 
in  Denham,  Davenant,  and  Waller.  But 
it  seems  a  great  exaggeration  as  to  Dryden, 
I  would  particularly  instance  Mac  Fleek- 
noe as  a  poem  of  about  four  hundred  lines, 
in  which  no  one  will  be  condemned  as 
weak  or  negligent,  though  three  or  four 
are  rather  too  ribaldrous  for  our  taste. 
There  are  also  passages,  much  exceeding 
ten  lines,  in  Absalom  and  Achitophel,  as 
well  as  in  the  later  works,  the  Fables, 
which  excite  in  the  reader  none  of  the 
shame  for  the  poet's  carelessness  with 
which  Johnson  has  furnished  him. 

41.  The  argumentative  talents  of  Drvden 


FROM   1650  TO  1700 


379 


The  Hind  appear,  more  or  less,  in  the 
and  1'aiuher.  greater  part  of  liis  poetry  ;  rea- 
son in  rhyme  was  his  peculiar  delight,  to 
which  he  seems  to  escape  from  the  mere 
excursions  of  fancy.  And  it  is  remarkable 
that  he  reasons  better  and  more  closely 
in  poetry  than  in  prose.  His  productions 
more  exclusively  reasoning  are  the  Keligio 
Laici  and  the  Hind  and  Panther.  The 
latter  is  every  way  an  extraordinary  poem. 
It  was  written  in  the  heyday  of  exultation, 
by  a  recent  proselyte  to  a  winning  side,  as 
he  dreamed  it  to  be ;  by  one  who  never 
spared  a  weaker  foe,  nor  repressed  his 
triumph  with  a  dignified  moderation.  A 
year  was  hardly  to  elapse  before  he  ex- 
changed this  fulness  of  pride  for  an  old 
age  of  disappointment  and  poverty.  Yet 
then,  too,  his  genius  was  unquenched,  and 
even  his  satire  was  not  less  severe. 

42.  The   first  lines    in    the   Hind  and 
its  singular  Panther  are  justly  reputed  among 
fable.          the  most  musical  in  our  language  ; 
and  perhaps  we  observe  their  rhythm  the 
better  because  it  does  not  gain  much  by 
the  sense ;  for  the  allegory  and  the  fable 
are  seen,  even  in  this  commencement,  to  be 
awkwardly  blended.   Yet,  notwithstanding 
their  evident  incoherence,  which  some- 
times leads  to  the  verge  of  absurdity,  and 
the  facility  they  give  to  ridicule,  I  am  not 
sure  that  Dryden  was  wrong  in  choosing 
this  singular  fiction.     It  was  his   aim  to 
bring  forward  an  old  argument  in  as  novel 
a  style  as  he  could  ;  a  dialogue  between  a 
priest  and  a  parson  would  have  made  but 
a  dull  poem,  even  if  it  had  contained  some 
of  the  excellent  paragraphs  we  read  in  the 
Hind  and  Panther.    It  is  the  grotesqueness 
and  originality  of  the  fable  that  gives  this 
poem  its  peculiar  zest,  of  which  no  reader, 
I  conceive,  is  insensible ;  and  it  is  also  by 
this  means  that  Dryden  has  contrived  to 
relieve  his  reasoning  by  short  but  beauti- 
ful touches  of  description,  such  as  the  sud- 
den  stream  of  light  from  heaven  which 
announces  the  conception  of  James's  un- 
fortunate heir,  near  the  end  of  the  second 
book. 

43.  The  wit.  in  the  Hind  and  Panther  is 

sharp,  ready,  and  pleasant,  the 
its  reasoning.  reasonmg  js  sometimes  admira- 
bly close  and  strong ;  it  is  the  energy  of 
Bossuet  in  verse.  I  do  not  know  that  the 
main  argument  of  the  Roman  Church  could 
be  better  stated;  all  that  has  been  well 
said  for  tradition  and  authority,  all  that 
serves  to  expose  the  inconsistencies  of  a 
vacillating  Protestantism,  is  in  the  Hind's 
mouth.  It  is  such  an  answer  as  a  candid 
man  should  admit  to  any  doubts  of  Dry- 
den's  sincerity.  He  who  could  argue  as 
powerfully  as  the  Hind,  may  well  be  al- 


lowed to  have  thought  himself  in  the  right. 
Yet  he  could  not  forget  a  few  bold  thoughts 
of  his  more  skeptical  days ;  and  such  is  his 
bias  to  sarcasm,  that  he  cannot  restrain 
himself  from  reflections  on  kings  and 
priests  when  he  is  most  contending  for 
them.* 

44.  The  Fables  of  Dryden,  or  stories 
modernized  from  Boccaccio  and  , 
Chaucer,  are  at  this  day  proba- 
bly  the  most  read  and  the  most  popular  of 
Dryden's  poems.  They  contain  passages 
of  so  much  more  impressive  beauty,  and 
are  altogether  so  far  more  adapted  to 
general  sympathy  than  those  we  have 
mentioned,  that  I  should  not  hesitate  to 
concur  in  this  judgment.  Yet  Johnson's 
accusation  of  negligence  is  better  support- 
ed by  these  than  by  the  earlier  poems. 
Whether  it  were  that  age  and  misfortune, 
though  they  had  not  impaired  the  poet's 
vigour,  had  rendered  its  continual  exertion 
more  wearisome,  or,  as  is,  perhaps,  the 
better  supposition,  he  reckoned  an  easy 
style,  sustained  above  prose,  in  some 
places  rather  by  metre  than  expression, 
more  fitted  to  narration,  we  find  much 
which  might  appear  slovenly  to  critics  of 
Johnson's  temper.  He  seems,  in  fact,  to 
have  conceived,  like  Milton,  a  theory  that 
good  writing,  at  least  in  verse,  is  never 
either  to  follow  the  change  of  fashion,  or 
to  sink  into  familiar  phrase,  and  that  any 
deviation  from  this  rigour  should  be  brand- 
ed as  low  and  colloquial.  But  Dryden 
wrote  on  a  different  plan.  He  thought, 
like  Ariosto,  and  like  Chaucer,  whom  he 
had  to  improve,  that  a  story,  especially 
when  not  heroic,  should  be  told  in  easy 
and  flowing  language,  without  too  much 
difference  from  that  of  prose,  relying  on 
his  harmony,  his  occasional  inversions, 
and  his  concealed  skill  in  the  choice  of 
words,  for  its  effect  on  the  reader.  He 
found,  also,  a  tone  of  popular  idiom— not, 
perhaps,  old  English  idiom,  but  such  as 
had  crept  into  society — current  among  his 
contemporaries ;  and,  though  this  has  in 
many  cases  now  become  insufferably  vul- 
gar, and  in  others  looks  lik&j  affectation, 
we  should  make  some  allowance  for  the 
times  in  condemning  it.  This  last,  blem- 
ish, however,  is  not  much  imptitable  to 
the  Fables.  Their  beauties  arc  innumer- 
able, yet  few  are  very  well  chosen ;  some, 
as  Guiscard  and  Sigismunda,  he  has  in- 


*  By  education  most  have  been  mis'. 

So  they  believe  because  they  were  so  bred. 
The  priest  continues  what  the  nurse  hognn, 
And  thus  the  child  imposes  on  the  man. 

Part  iii. 

"  Call  you  this  backing  of  your  friends  ?"  his  new 
allies  might  have  said. 


380 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


jured  through  coarseness  of  mind,  which 
neither  years  nor  religion  had  purified ; 
and  we  want  in  all  the  power  over  emotion, 
the  charm  of  sympathy,  the  skilful  arrange- 
ment and  selection  of  circumstance,  which 
narrative  poetry  claims  as  its  highest 
graces. 

45.  Dryden's  fame  as  a  lyric  poet  de- 
HisOdes:Ai-  pends  a  very  little  on  his  Ode 
aider's  Feas:    on  Mrs.  Killigrew's  death,  but 
almost  entirely  on  that  for  St.  Cecilia's 
Day,  commonly  called  Alexander's  Feast. 
The  former,  which  is  much  praised  by 
Johnson,  has  a  few  fine  lines,  mingled  with 
a  far  greater  number  ill  conceived  and  ill 
expressed;   the   whole    composition   has 
that  spirit  which  Dryden  hardly  ever  want- 
ed, but  it  is  too  faulty  for  high  praise. 
The  latter  used  to  pass  for  the  best  work 
of  Dryden  and  the  best  ode  in  the  lan- 
guage.    Many  would  now  agree  Avith  me 
that  it  is  neither  one  nor  the  other,  and 
that  it  was  rather  overrated  during  a  pe- 
riod when  criticism  was  not  at  a  high 
point.     Its  excellence,  indeed,  is  undenia- 
ble ;  it  has  the  raciness,  the  rapidity,  the 
mastery  of  language  which  belong  to  Dry- 
den ;   the   transitions   are   animated,   the 
contrasts   effective.     But   few  lines   are 
highly  poetical,  and  some  sink  to  the  level 
of  a  common  drinking-song.     It  has  the 
defects,  as  well  as  the  merits  of  that  po- 
etry which  is  written  for  musical  accom- 
paniment. 

46.  Of  Dryden  as  a  translator  it  is  need- 
His  trans-  less  to  say  much.     In  some  in- 
lation  of   stances,  as  in  an  ode  of  Horace, 
VirglL       he  has  done  extremely  well ;  but 
his  Virgil  is,  in  my  apprehension,  the  least 
successful  of  his  chief  works.     Lines  of 
consummate    excellence    are    frequently 
shot,   like   threads   of  gold,  through  the 
web ;  but  the  general  texture  is  of  an  or- 
dinary material.     Dryden  was  little  fitted 
for  a  translator  of  Virgil ;  his  mind  was 
more  rapid  and  vehement  than  that  of  his 
original,  but  by  far  less  elegant  and  judi- 
cious.    This   translation  seems  to  have 
been  made  in  haste  ;  it  is  more  negligent 
than  any  of  his  own  poetry,  and  the  style 
is  often  almost  studiously,  and,  as  it  were, 
spit  •fully  vulgar. 

47.  The  supremacy  of  Dryden,  from  the 
Decline  of  po-  death  of  Milton  in  1674  to  his 

etry  from  the  OW11  ill  1700,  Was  not  Only  unap- 

Restorat'on.  proached  by  any  English  poet, 
but  ho  held  almost  a  complete  monopoly 
of  English  poetry.  This  latter  period  of 
the  seventeenth  century,  setting  aside 
these  two  great  names,  is  one  remarkably 
steril  in  poetical  genius.  Under  the  first 
Stuarts,  men  of  warm  imagination  and  sen- 
sibility, though  with  deficient  taste  and  lit- 


tle  command  of  language,  had  done  some 
honour  to  our  literature;  though  once 
neglected,  they  have  come  forward  again 
in  public  esteem,  and,  if  not  very  exten- 
sively read,  have  been  valued  by  men  of 
kindred  minds  full  as  much  as  they  de- 
serve. The  versifiers  of  Charles  II.  and 
William's  days  have  experienced  the  op- 
posite fate  ;  popular  for  a  time,  and  long 
so  far  known,  at  least  byname,  as  to  have 
entered  rather  largely  into  collections  of 
poetry,  they  are  now  held  in  no  regard, 
nor  do  they  claim  much  favour  from 
just  criticism.  Their  object  in  general 
was  to  write  like  men  of  the  world  ;  with 
ease,  wit,  sense,  and  spirit,  but  dreading 
any  soaring  of  fancy,  any  ardour  of  moral 
emotion,  as  the  probable  source  of  ridicule 
in  their  readers.  Nothing  quenches  the 
flame  of  poetry  more  than  this  fear  of  the 
prosaic  multitude,  unless  it  is  the  commu- 
nity of  habits  with  this  very  multitude  ;  a 
life  such  as  these  poets  generally  led,  of 
taverns  and  brothels,  or,  what  came  much 
to  the  same,  of  the  court.  We  cannot  say 
of  Dryden  that  "  he  bears  no  traces  of 
those  sable  streams  ;"  they  sully  too  much 
the  plumage  of  that  stately  swan,  but  his 
indomitable  genius  carries  him  upward  to 
a  purer  empyrean.  The  rest  are  just  dis- 
tinguishable from  one  another,  not  by  any 
high  gifts  of  the  muse,  but  by  degrees  of 
spirit,  of  ease,  of  poignancy,  of  skill  and 
harmony  in  versification,  of  good  sense 
and  acuteness  They  may  easily  be  dis- 
posed of.  Cleveland  is  some-  some  minor 
times  humorous,  but  succeeds  poets  enu- 
only  in  the  lightest  kinds  of  po-  ' 
etry.  Marvell  wrote  sometimes  with  more 
taste  and  feeling  than  was  usual,  but  his 
satires  are  gross  and  stupid.  Oldham,  far 
superior  in  this  respect,  ranks  perhaps 
next  to  Dryden ;  he  is  spirited  and  point- 
ed, but  his  versification  is  too  negligent, 
and  his  subjects  temporary.  Roscommon, 
one  of  the  best  for  harmony  and  correct- 
ness of  language,  has  little  vigour,  but  he 
never  offends,  and  Pope  has  justly  praised 
his  "unspotted  bays."  Mulgrave  affects 
ease  and  spirit,  but  his  Essay  on  Satire, 
belies  the  supposition  that  Dryden  had  any 
share  in  it.  Rochester,  with  more  con- 
siderable and  varied  genius,  might  have 
raised  himself  to  a  higher  place  than  he 
holds.  Of  Otway,  Duke,  and  several 
more,  it  is  not  worth  while  to  give  any 
character.  The  Revolution  did  nothing 
for  poetry;  William's  reign,  always  ex- 
cepting Dryden,  is  our  nadir  in  works  of 
imagination.  Then  came  Blackmore  with 
his  epic  poems  of  Prince  Arthur  and  King 
Arthur,  and  Pomfret  with  his  Choice,  both 
popular  in  their  own  age,  and  both  intol- 


FROM  1650  TO  1700. 


331 


erable  by  their  frigid  and  tame  monotony 
in  the  next.  The  lighter  poetry,  mean- 
time, of  song  and  epigram  did  not  sink 
along  with  the  serious ;  the  state  of  soci- 
ety was  much  less  adverse  to  it.  Roches- 
ter, Dorset,  and  some  more  whose  names 
are  unknown,  or  not  easily  traced,  do 
credit  to  the  Caroline  period. 

48.  In  the  year  1699,  a  poem  was  pub- 
lished, Garth's  Dispensary,  which  de- 
serves attention,  not  so  much  for  its  own 
merit,  though  it  comes  nearest  to  Dryden, 
at  whatever  interval,  as  from  its  indicating 
a  transitional  state  in  our  versification. 
The  general  structure  of  the  couplet 
through  the  seventeenth  century  may  be 
called  abnormous ;  the  sense  is  not  only 
often  carried  beyond  the  second  line, 
which  the  French  avoid,  but  the  second 
line  of  one  couplet  and  the  first  of  the  next 
are  not  seldom  united  in  a  single  sentence 
or  a  portion  of  one,  so  that  the  two,  though 
not  rhyming,  must  be  read  as  a  couplet. 
The  former,  when  as  dexterously  mana- 
ged as  it  was  by  Dryden,  adds  much  to  the 
beauty  of  the  general  versification;  but 
the  latter,  a  sort  of  adultery  of  the  lines 
already  wedded  to  other  companions  at 
rhyme's  altar,  can  scarcely  ever  be  pleas- 
ing, unless  it  be  in  narrative  poetry,  where 
it  may  bring  the  sound  nearer  to  prose. 
A  tendency,  however,  to  the  French  rule 
of  constantly  terminating  the  sense  with 
the  couplet  will  be  perceived  to  have  in- 
creased from  the  Restoration.  Roscom- 
mon  seldom  deviates  from  it,  and  in  long 
passages  of  Dryden  himself  there  will 
hardly  be  found  an  exception.  But  per- 
haps it  had  not  been  so  uniform  in  any 
former  production  as  in  the  Dispensary. 
The  vci-si Station  of  this  once  famou; 
mock-heroic  poem  is  smooth  and  regular, 
but  not  forcible ;  the  language  clear  and 
neat;  the  parodies  and  allusions  happy. 
Many  lines  are  excellent  in  the  way  of 
pointed  application,  and  some  are  remem- 
bered and  quoted  where  few  call  to  mind 
the  author.  It  has  been  remarked  that 
Garth  enlarged  and  altered  the  Dispensary 
in  almost  every  edition,  and,  what  is  more 
uncommon,  that  every  alteration  was  for 
the  better.  This  poem  may  be  called  an 
imitation  of  the  Lutrin,  inasmuch  as  but 
for  the  Lutrin,  it  might  probably  not  have 
been  written,  and  there  are  even  particu- 
lar resemblances.  The  subject,  which  is 
a  quarrel  between  the  physicians  and 
apothecaries  of  London,  may  vie  with  that 
of  Boileau  in  want  of  general  interest ;  yet 
it  seems  to  afford  more  diversity  to  the 
satirical  poet.  Garth,  as  has  been  inti- 
mated, is  a  link  of  transition  between  the 
style  and  turn  of  poetry  under  Charles  and 


William,  and  that  we  find  in  AdJison, 
Prior,  Tickell,  and  Pope,  in  the  reign  of 
Anne. 


SECT.  IV.     ON  LATIN  POETRY. 

49.  THE  Jesuits  were  not  unmindful  of 
the  credit  their  Latin  verses  had  i.aim  poets 
done  them  in  periods  more  fa-  Ol  Ual>'- 
vourable  to  that  exercise  of  taste  than  the 
present.     Even  in  Italy,  which  had  ceased 
to  be  a  very  genial  soil,  one  of  their  num- 
ber, Ceva,   may   deserve    mention.  Cev> 
His  Jesus  Puer  is  a  long  poem,  not 
inelegantly  written,  but  rather  singular  in 
some  of  its  descriptions,  where  the  poet 
has  been  more  solicitous  to  adorn  his  sub- 
ject than  attentive  to  its  proper  charac- 
ter ;    and  the   same   objection   might  be 
made   to   some  of   its'  episodes.      Ceva 
wrote  also  a  philosophical  poem,  extolled 
by  Corniani,  but  which  has  not  fallen  into 
my  hands.*    Averani,  a  Florentine  of  va- 
rious erudition,  Cappellari,  Strozzi,  author 
of  a  poem  on  chocolate,  and  several  oth- 
ers, both  within  the  order  of  Loyola  and 
without  it,  cultivated   Latin  poetry  with 
some  success.f     But,  though  some  might 
be  superior  as  poets,  none  were  more  re- 
markable or  famous  than  Sergardi,  g,ergardi 
best  known  by  some  biting  satires 
under  the  name  of  Q.  Sectanus,  which  he 
levelled  at  his  personal  enemy,  Gravina. 
The  reputation,  indeed,  of  Gravina  with 
posterity  has  not  been  affected  by  such 
libels  ;  but  they  are  not  wanting  either  in 
poignancy  ;md"  spirit,  or  in  a  command  of 
Latin  phrase. t 

50.  The  superiority  of  France  in  Latin 
verse  was  no  longer  contested  by  or  France- 
Holland  or  Germany.      Several  Qu'llct 
poets  of  real  merit  belong  to  this  period. 
The  first  in  time  was  Claude  Quillet,  who, 
in    his    Callipeedh,  bears    the    Latinized 
name  of  Leti.     This  is  written  with  much 
elegance  of  style  and  a  very  harmonious 
versification.     No  writer  has  a  more  \  ir- 
gilian  cadence.     Though  inferior  to  Sam- 
marthanus.  lie   may   be    reckoned    high 
among  the  French  poets.     He  has 
reproached  with  too  open  an  exposition 
of  some  parts  of  his  subject,  which  ip- 
plies  only  to  the  second  book. 

51.  The  Latin  poems  of  Menage  are 
not  unpleasing  ;  he  has,  indeed,  no  Menage 
great  fire  or  originality,  but  the 
harmonious  couplets  glide  over  the  oar, 
and  the  mind  is  pleased  to  recognise 

*  Corniani,  viii ,  214.     Salfi,  xiv.,  257 

t  Bibl.  Choisie,  vol.  xxii.    Saliii,  xiv    23£,et  post 

j  Salfi,  xiv.,  299.    Corniani,  viu.,  280 


382 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


tesselated  fragments  of  Ovid  and  Tihullus. 
His  affected  passion  for  Mademoiselle  La- 
vergne,  and  lamentations  about  her  cruel- 
ty, are  ludicrous  enough,  when  we  consid- 
er the  character  of  the  man,  as  Vadius  in 
the  Femmes  Savantes  of  Moliere.  They 
are  perfect  models  of  want  of  truth ;  but 
it  is  a  want  of  truth  to  nature,  not  to  the 
conventional  forms  of  modern  Latin  verse. 

52.  A  far  superior  performance  is  the 
Rapinon  poem  on   gardens  by  the   Jesuit 
gardens.    Rene  Rapin.     For  skill  in  varying 
and  adorning  his  subject ;  for  a  truly  Vir- 
gilian  spirit  in  expression;  for  the  exclu- 
sion of  feeble,  prosaic,  or  awkward  lines, 
he  may  perhaps  be  equal  to  any  poet,  to 
Sammarthanus,  or  to  Sannazarius  himself. 
His  cadences  are  generally  very  gratify- 
ing to  the  ear,  and  m  this  respect  he  is 
much  above  Vida.*     But  his  subject  or 
his  genius  has  prevented  him  from  rising 
very  high  :  he  is  the  poet  of  gardens,  and 
what  gardens  are  to  nature  that  is  he  to 
mightier  poets.    There  is  also  too  monot- 
onous a  repetition  of  nearly  the  same  im- 
ages, as  in  his  long  enumeration  of  flow- 
ers in  the  first  book;  the  descriptions  are 
separately    good,   and    great    artifice    is 
shown  in  varying  them  ;  but  the  variety 
could  not  be  sufficient  to  remove  the  gen- 
eral sameness  that  belongs  to  an  horticul- 
tural catalogue.     Rapin  was  a  great  ad- 
mirer of  box  and  all  topiary  works,  or 
trees  cut  into  artificial  forms. 

53.  The  first  book  of  the  Gardens  of 
Rapin  is  on  flowers,  the  second  on  trees, 
the  third  on  waters,  and  the   fourth  on 
fruits.     The  poem  is  of  about  3000  lines, 

*  As  the  poern  of  Rapin  is  not  in  the  hands  of 
every  one  who  has  taste  for  Latin  poetry,  I  will 
give,  as  a  specimen,  the  introduction  to  the  second 
book  : 

Me  nemora  atque  omnis  nemorum  pulcherrimus 

ordo, 

Et  spatia  umbrandum  late  fundanda  per  hortum 
Invitant ;  hortis  nam  si  florentibus  umbra 
Abfuerit,  reliquo  deerit  sua  gratia  ruri. 

Vos  grandes  luci  et  silvge  aspirate  canenti ; 
Is  mihi  contingat  vestro  de  munere  ramus, 
Unde  sacri  quando  velant  sua  tempora  vates, 
Ipse  et  ainem  meritam  capiti  imposuisse  coronam. 
Jam  se  cantanti  frondosa  cacumina'quercus 
Inclinant.  plauduntqne  comis  nemora  alia  coruscis. 
Ipsa  mihi  laeto  fremitu,  assensuque  secundo 
E  totis  plausum  responsat  Gallia  silvis. 
Nee  me  demde  suo  teneat  clamore  Cithasron, 
Msennlaque  Arcadicis  toties  lustrata  deabus, 
Non  Do'.ionoei  saltus,  silvxque  Molorchi, 
Aut  nigris  late  ilicihus  nernorosa  Calydne, 
Et  quos  carminibus  celebravit  fabula  lucos  : 
Una  nieos  cantus  tellus  jam  Franca  moretur 
Qua;  tot  nobilibns  passim  laetissima  silvis, 
Conspicienda  sui  late  miracula  ruris 
Ostendit,  lucisque  solum  commendat  amcenis. 

One  or  two  words  in  these  lines  are  not  strictly 
correct ;  but  they  are  highly  Virgilian,  both  in  man- 
ner and  rhythm. 


sustained  with  equable  dignity.  All  kinds 
of  graceful  associations  are  mingled  with 
the  description  of  his  flowers,  in  the  fanci- 
ful style  of  Ovid  and  Darwin  ;  the  violet 
is  lantliis,  who  lurked  in  valleys  to  shun 
the  love  of  Apollo,  and  stained  her  face 
with  purple  to  preserve  her  chastity  ;  the 
rose  is  Rhodanthe,  proud  of  her  beauty, 
and  vvoi shipped  by  the  people  in  the  place 
of  Diana,  but  changed  by  the  indignant 
Apollo  to  a  tree,  while  the  populace,  who 
had  adored  her,  are  converted  into  her 
thorns,  and  her  chief  lovers  into  snails 
and  butterflies.  A  tendency  to  conceit  is 
perceived  in  Rapin,  as  in  the  two  poets  to 
whom  we  have  just  compared  him.  Thus, 
in  some  pretty  lines,  he  supposes  Nature 
to  have  "  tried  her  prentice  hand"  in  ma- 
king a  convolvulus  before  she  ventured 
upon  a  lily.* 

54.  In  Rapin  there  will  generally  be  re- 
marked a  certain  redundancy,  which  fas- 
tidious   critics    might    call    tautology   of 
expression.     But   this  is  not  uncommon 
in  Virgil.     The  Georgics  have  rarely  been 
more  happily, imitated,  especially  in  their 
didactic  parts,  than  by  Rapin  in  the  Gar- 
dens ;  but  he  has  not  the  high  flights  of 
his  prototype  ;  his  digressions  are  short, 
and  belong  closely  to  the  subject :    we 
have  no  plague,  no  civil  war,  no  Euryd- 
ice.      If   he    praises   Louis    XIV.,   it    is 
more   as  the  founder  of  the   garden   of 
Versailles  than  as  the  conqueror  of  Flan- 
ders, though  his  concluding  lines    emu- 
late, with  no  unworthy  spirit,  those  of  the 
last   Georgic.f     It    may   be   added,   that 
some  French  critics  have  thought  the  fa- 
mous poem  of  Delille  on  the  same  sub- 
ject inferior  to  that  of  Rapin. 

55.  Santeul  (or  Santolius)  has  been  reck- 
oned one  of  the  best.  Latin  poets  c 

i_         T-<  i         j       TI      Santeul. 

whom  r  ranee  ever  produced.     He 

began  by  celebrating  the  victories  of  Louis 
and  the  virtues  of  contemporary  heroes 
A  nobleness  of  thought  and  a  splendour 
of  language  distinguish  the  poetry  of  San- 
teul, who  furnished  many  inscriptions  for 
public  monuments.  The  hymns  which  he 
afterward  wrote  for  the  breviary  of  the 
Church  of  Paris  have  been  still  more  ad- 
mired ;  and,  at  the  request  of  others,  he 
enlarged  his  collection  of  sacred  verse. 
But  I  have  not  read  the  poetry  of  Santeul, 


*  Et.  l.u  rumpis  humum,  et  multo  te  flore  profundis, 
Qui  riguas  inter  serpis,  convplvule,  valley  ; 
Dulce  rudimentum  meditantis  lilia  quondam 
Naturae,  cum  sese  opera  ad  majora  pararet. 

t  Hac  magni  insistens  vestigia  sacra  Maronis, 
Re  super  hortensi,  Claro  de  monte  canebam, 
Lutetia  in  magna  ;  quo  tempore  Francica  tellut 
Rege  beata  suo,  rebusque  superba  secundis, 
Et  sua  per  populos  late  dare  jura  volentes 
Cseoerat.  et  toti  iam  morem  imponere  mundo. 


FROM  1650  TO  1700. 


383 


and  give  only  the  testimony  of  French 
critics.* 

56.  England  might  justly  boast,  in  the 
Latin  poetry  earlier  part  of  the  century,  her 
in  England.  Milton  ;  nay,  I  do  not  know  that, 
with  the  exception  of  a  well-known  and 
very  pleasing  poem,  though,  perhaps,  hard- 
ly of  classical  simplicity,  by  Cowley  on 
himself,  Epitaphium  Vivi  Auctoris,  we  can 
produce  anything  equally  good  in  this  pe- 
riod. The  Latin  verse  of  Barrow  is  for- 
cible and  full  of  mind,  but  not  sufficiently 
redolent  of  antiquity. f  Yet  versification 
became,  about  the  time  of  the  Restora- 
tion, if  not  the  distinctive  study,  at  least 
the  favourite  exercise,  of  the  University 


of  Oxford.  The  collection  entitled  Musa? 
Auglicanae,  published  near  the  end  of  the 
century,  contains  little  from  any  other 
quarter.  Many  of  these  relate  to  the  po- 
litical ihetnes  of  the  day,  and  eulogize  the 
reigning  king,  Charles,  James,  or  Will- 
iam ;  others  are  on  philosophical  subjects, 
which  they  endeavour  to  decorate  with 
classical  phrase.  The  character  of  this 
collection,  does  not,  on  the  whole,  pass 
mediocrity  ;  they  are  often  incorrect  and 
somewhat  turgid",  but  occasionally  display 
a  certain  felicity  in  adapting  ancient  lines 
to  their  subject,  and  sonic  liveliness  of  in- 
vention. The  golden  age  of  Latin  versp 
in  England  was  yet  to  come. 


CHAPTER  VI. 


HISTORY    OF    DRAMATIC    LITERATURE    FROM    1650    TO    1700. 


SECTION  I. 

Racine. —  Minor  French  Tragedians.  —  Moliere. — 
Regnard,  and  other  Cornic  Writers. 

1.  FEW  tragedies  or  dramatic  works  of 
Italian  and  anY  kind  are  now  recorded  by 
Spanish      historians  of  Italian  literature  ; 
drama.        lhoge  of  Delfino,  afterward  patri- 
arch  of    Aquileia,    which    are    esteemed 
among  the  best,  were  possibly   written 
before    the    middle    of  the   century,  and 
were  not  published  till  after  its  termina- 
tion.     The    Corradino    of    Caraccio,   in 
1694,  was  also  valued  at  the  time.J     Nor 
can  Spain  arrest  us  longer  ;  the  school  of 
Calderon  in  national  comedy  extended  no 
doubt  beyond  the  death  of  Philip  IV.  in 
1665,  and  many  of  his  own  religious  pieces 
are  of  as  late  a  date  ;   nor  were  names 
wholly  wanting,  which  are  said  to  merit 
remembrance,    in    the    feeble    reign    of 
Charles    II.  ;    but   they  must  be  left  for 
such  as  make  a  particular  study  of  Span- 
ish literature. §    We  are  called  to  a  nobler 
stage. 

2.  Corneille  belongs  in  his  glory  to  the 
earlier  period  of  this  century,  though  his 


*  Baillet.     Biogr  Universelle. 
t  The  following  stanzas  on  an  erring  conscience 
will  sufficiently  prove  this  : 

Trvanne  vitae.  fax  temeraria, 
Infide  dux,  ignobile  vinculum, 
Sidus  dolosurn,  senigma  praesens, 
Ingenni  labyrinthe  voti, 
Assensns  errans,  invalids  potens 
Mentis  propago,  quam  vet.uit  Deus 
Nasci,  sed  ortae  principatum 
Attribuit,  regimenque  sanctum,  &c. 
J  Walker's  Memoir  on  Italian  Tragedy,  p.  201. 
Salfi,  xii    57.  §  Bouterwek. 


inferior  tragedies,  more  nu-  Racine's  nm 
merous  than  the  better,  would  tragedies, 
fall  within  the  later.  Fontenellc,  indeed 
as  a  devoted  admirer,  attributes  consider- 
able merit  to  those  which  the  general 
voice  both  of  critics  and  of  the  public 
had  condemned.*  Meantime,  another  lu- 
minary arose  on  the  opposite  side  of  the 
horizon.  The  first  tragedy  of  .lean  Ra- 
cine, Les  Freres  Kimomis,.  was  repre- 
sented in  1661,  when  he  was  twenty-five 
years  of  age.  It  is  so  far  below  his  great 
works  as  to  be  scarcely  mentioned,  yet 
does  not  want  indications  of  the  genius 
they  were  to  display.  Alcxandre,  in 
1665,  raised  the  young  poet  to  more  dis- 
tinction. It  is  said  that  he  showed  this 
tragedy  to  Corneille,  who  praised  his  ver- 
sification, but  advised  him  to  avoid  a  path 
which  he  was  not.  filled  to  tread.  It  i» 
acknowledged  by  the  advocates  of  Racine 
that  the  characters  are  feebly  drawn,  and 
that  the  conqueror  of  Asi-i  sinks  to  the 
level  of  a  hero  in  one  of  those  romances 
of  gallantry  which  had  vitiated  the  taste 
of  France. 

3.  The  glory  of  Racine  commenced 
with  the  representation  of  his  Ar,drom;i(,UR 
Andromaque  in  16(37,  which  was 
not  printed  till  the  end  of  the  following 
year.  He  was  now  at  once  compared 
with  Corneille,  and  the  scales  have  been 
oscillating  ever  since.  Criticism,  satire.  <•(>- 
igrams,  were  unsparingly  launched  against 

*  Hist,  du  Theatre  Francois,  in  (Euvresde  Fon 
tenelle,  in.,  111.  St.  Kvremond  also  despised  the 
French  public  for  not  admiring  the  Sophonisbe  cif 
Corneille,  which  he  had  made  too  Roman  for  theit 
taste. 


384 


the  rising  poet.  But  his  rival  pursued  the 
worst  policy  by  obstinately  writing  bad 
tragedies.  The  public  naturally  compare 
the  present  with  the  present,  and  forget 
the  past.  When  he  gave  them  Pertharite, 
they  were  dispensed  from  looking  back  to 
Cinna.  It  is  acknowledged  even  by  Fon- 
tenelle.,  that, during  the  height  of  Racine's 
fame,  the  world  placed  him  at  least  on  an 
equality  with  his  predecessor  ;  a  decision 
from  which  that  critic,  the  relation  and 
friend  of  Corneille,  appeals  to  what  he 
takes  to  be  the  verdict  of  a  later  age. 

4.  The  Andromaque  was  sufficient  to 
show  that  Racine  had  more  skill  in  the 
management  of  a  plot,  in  the  display  of 
emotion,  in  power  over  the  sympathy  of 
the  spectator,  at  least  where  the  gentler 
feelings    are    concerned,    in   beauty    and 
grace  of  style,  in  all  except  nobleness  of 
character,  strength  of  thought,  and  im- 
petuosity of  language.     He  took  his  fable 
from  Euripides,  but  changed  it  according 
to  the  requisitions  of  the  French  theatre 
and  of  French  manners.     Some  of  these 
changes  are  for  the  better,  as  the  substi- 
tution of  Astyanax  for  an  unknown  Mo- 
lossus  of  the  Greek  tragedian,  the  sup- 
posed son   of  Andromache   by  Pyrrhus. 
"  Most  of  those,"  says  Racine   himself 
very  justly,  "  who  have  heard  of  Androm- 
ache, know  her  only  as  the  widow  of 
Hector    and    the    mother   of    Astyanax. 
They  cannot  reconcile  themselves  to  her 
loving  another  husband  and  another  son." 
And  he  has  finely  improved   this  happy 
idea  of  preserving  Astyanax,  by  making 
the  Greeks,  jealous  of  his  name,  send  an 
embassy  by  Orestes  to  demand  his  life ; 
at  once  deepening  the  interest  and  devel- 
oping tV  Ho>. 

5.  The  female  characters,  Andromache  ! 
and  Hermione,  are  drawn  with  all  Racine's  ! 
delicate  perception  of  ideal  •beauty ;  the 
one,  indeed,  prepared  for  his  hand  by  those 
great  masters  in  whose  school  he  had  dis- 
ciplined his  own  gifts  of  nature,  Homer, 
Euripides,  Virgil ;  the  other  more  original 
and  more  full  of  dramatic  effect.     It  was, 
as  we  are  told,  the  fine  acting  of  Made- 
moiselle de  Champmele  in  this  part,  gen- 
erally reckoned  one  of  the  most  difficult 
on  the  French  stage,  which  secured  the 
success  of  the  play.     Racine,  after  the 
first  representation,  threw  himself  at  her 
feet  in  a  transport  of  gratitude,  which  was 
soon  changed  to  love.     It  is  more  easy  to 
censure   some   of  the   other   characters. 
Pyrrhus  i:s  bold,  haughty,  passionate,  the 
true  son  of  Achilles,  except  where  he  ap- 
pears as  the  lover  of  Andromache.     It  is 
inconceivable  and  truly  ridiculous  that  a 
Greek  of  the  heroic  age,  and  such  a  Greek  j 


as  Pyrrhus  is  represented  by  those  whose 
imagination  has  given  him  existence, 
should  feel  the  respectful  passion  towards 
his  captive  which  we  might  reasonably 
expect  in  the  romances  of  chivalry,  or 
should  express  it  in  the  tone  of  conven- 
tional gallantry  that  suited  the  court  of 
Versailles.  But  Orestes  is  far  worse ; 
love-mad,  and  yet  talking  in  gallant  con- 
ceits, cold  and  polite,  he  discredits  the 
poet,  the  tragedy,  and  the  son  of  Aga- 
memnon himself.  It  is  better  to  kill  one's 
mother  than  to  utter  such  trash.  In  hint- 
ing that  the  previous  madness  of  Orestes 
was  for  the  sake  of  Hermione,  Racine 
has  presumed  too  much  on  the  ignorance 
and  too  much  on  the  bad  taste  of  his  au- 
dience. But  far  more  injudicious  is  his 
fantastic  remorse  and  the  supposed  vision 
of  the  Furies  in  the  last  scene.  It  is  as- 
tonishing that  Racine  should  have  chal- 
lenged comparison  with  one  of  the  most 
celebrated  scenes  of  Euripides  in  circum- 
stances that  deprived  him  of  the  possi- 
bility of  rendering  his  own  effective.  For 
the  style  of  the  Andromaque,  it  abounds 
with  grace  and  beauty ;  but  there  are,  to 
my  apprehension,  more  insipid  and  feeble 
lines,  and  a  more  effeminate  tone  than  in 
his  later  tragedies. 

C.  Britannicus  appeared  in  1669  ;  and  in 
this  admirable  play  Racine  first  Brjtannicus. 
showed  that  he  did  not  depend 
on  the  tone  of  gallantry  usual  among  his 
courtly  hearers,  nor  the  languid  sympa- 
thies that  it  excites.  Terror  and  pity, 
the  twin  spirits  of  tragedy,  to  whom  Aris- 
totle has  assigned  the  great  moral  office 
of  purifying  the  passions,  are  called  forth 
in  their  shadowy  forms  to  sustain  the  con- 
summate beauties  of  his  diction.  His  sub- 
ject was  original  and  happy ;  with  that 
historic  truth  which  usage  required,  and 
that  poetical  probability  which  fills  up  the 
outline  of  historic  truth  without  disguising 
it.  What  can  be  more  entirely  dramatic, 
what  more  terrible  in  the  sense  that  Aris- 
totle means  (that  is,  the  spectator's  sym- 
pathy with  the  dangers  of  the  innocent), 
than  the  absolute  master  of  the  world,  like 
the  veiled  prophet  of  Khorasan,  throwing 
off  the  appearances  of  virtue,  and  standing 
out  at  once  in  the  maturity  of  enormous 
guilt !  A  presaging  gloom,  like  that  which 
other  poets  have  sought  by  the  hackneyed 
artifices  of  superstition,  hangs  over  the 
scenes  of  this  tragedy,  and  deepens  at  its 
close.  We  sympathize  by  turns  with  the 
guilty  alarms  of  Agrippina,  the  virtuous 
consternation  of  Burrhus,  the  virgin  mod- 
esty of  Junia,  the  unsuspecting  ingenu- 
ousness of  Britannicus.  Few  tragedies  on 
the  French  stage,  or,  indeed,  on  any  stage. 


FROM  1650  TO  1700. 


385 


save  those  of  Shakspeare,  display  so  great 
a  variety  of  contrasted  characters.  None, 
indeed,  are  ineffective,  except  the  confi- 
dante of  Agrippina ;  for  Narcissus  is  very 
far  from  being  the  mere  confida-.it  of  Nero  ; 
he  is,  as  in  history,  his  preceptor  in  crime  ; 
and  his  cold  villany  is  well  contrasted  with 
the  fierce  passion  of  the  despot.  The  crit- 
icisms of  Fontenelle  and  others  on  small 
incidents  in  the  plot,  such  as  the  conceal- 
ment of  Nero  behind  a  curtain  that  he  may 
hear  the  dialogue  between  .Tunia  and  Bri- 
tannicus,  which  is  certainly  more  fit  for 
comedy,  ought  not  to  weigh  against  such 
excellence  as  we  find  in  all  the  more  es- 
sential requisites  of  a  tragic  drama.  Ra- 
cine had  much  improved  his  language  since 
Aiidromaque ;  the  conventional  phraseol- 
ogy about  flames  and  fine  eyes,  though 
not  wholly  relinquished,  is  less  frequent; 
and  if  he  has  not  here  reached,  as  he  never 
did,  the  peculiar  impetuosity  of  Corneille, 
nor  given  to  his  Romans  the  grandeur  of 
his  predecessor's  conception,  he  is  full  of 
lines  wherein,  as  every  word  is  effective, 
there  can  hardly  be  any  deficiency  of  vig- 
our. It  is  the  vigour,  indeed,  of  Virgil, 
not  of  Lucan. 

7.  In  one  passage,  Racine  has,  I  think, 
excelled  Shakspeare.     They  have  both  ta- 
ken the  same  idea  from  Plutarch.     The 
lines   of  Shakspeare  are  in  Antony  and 
Cleopatra : 

"  Thy  demon,  that's  the  spirit  that  keeps  thee,  is 
Noble,  courageous,  unmatchable, 
Where  Caesar's  is  not ;  but  near  him,  thy  angel 
Becomes  a  fear,  as  being  o'erpowered." 

These  are,  to  my  apprehension,  not  very 
forcible,  and  obscure  even  to  those  who 
know,  what  many  do  not,  that  by  "  a  fear" 
he  meant  a  common  goblin,  a  supernatural 
being  of  a  more  plebeian  rank  than  a  de- 
mon or  angel.  The  single  verse  of  Racine 
is  magnificent : 

"  Mon  genie  ctonne  tremble  devant  le  sien." 

8.  Berenice,  the  next  tragedy  of  Racine, 
.      is  a  surprising  proof  of  what  can 

be  done  by  a  great  master  ;  but  it 
must  be  admitted  that  it  wants  many  of 
the  essential  qualities  that  are  required  in 
the  drama.  It  might  almost  be  compared 
with  Timon  of  Athens  by  the  absence  of 
fable  and  movement.  For  nobleness  and 
delicacy  of  sentiment,  for  grace  of  style, 
it  deserves  every  praise  ;  but  is  rather  te- 
dious in  the  closet,  and  must  be  far  more 
so  on  the  stage.  This  is  the  only  tragedy 
of  Racine,  unless,  perhaps,  we  except  Atha- 
;ie,in  which  the  story  presents  an  evident 
moral;  but  no  poet  is  more  uniformly 
moral  in  his  sentiments.  Corneille,  to 
whom  the  want  of  dramatic  fable  was 
ever  any  great  objection,  attempted  the 
VOT,.  II.— 3  C 


subject  of  Berenice  about  the  same  time 
with  far  inferior  success.  It  required, 
what  he  could  not  give,  the  picture  of  two 
hearts  struggling  against  a  noble  and  a 
blameless  love. 

9.  It  was  unfortunate  for  Racine  that 
he  did  not  more  frequently  break 
through  the  prejudices  of  the  French  Bj 
theatre  in  favour  of  classical  subjects.     A 
field  was  open  of  almost  boundless  extent, 
the  medieval  history  of  Europe,  and  es- 
pecially of  France  herself.     His  predeces- 
sor had  been  too  successful  in  the  Cid  to 
leave   it   doubtful   whether  an   audience 
would  approve  such  an  innovation  at  the 
hands  of  a  favoured  tragedian.     Racine, 
however,  did  not  venture  on  a  step  which 
in  the  next  century  Voltaire  turned  so 
much  to  account,  and  which  made  the  for- 
tune of  some  inferior  tragedies.    But,  con- 
sidering the  distance  of  place  equivalent, 
for  the  ends  of  the  drama,  to  that  of  time, 
he  founded  on  an  event  in  the  Turkish  his- 
tory not  more  than  thirty  years  before  his 
next  tragedy,  that  of  Bajazet.    Most  part, 
indeed,  of  the  fable  is  due  to  his  own  in- 
vention.    Bajazet  is  reckoned  to  fall  be- 
low most  of  his  other  tragedies  in  beauty 
of  style  ;  but  the  fable  is  well  connected  ; 
there  is  a  great  deal  of  movement,  and  an 
unintermitting  interest  is  sustained  by  Ba- 
jazet and  Atalide,  two  of  the  noblest  char- 
acters that  Racine  has  drawn.     Atalide 
has  not  the  ingenuous  simplicity  of  Junie, 
but  displays  a  more  dramatic  flow  of  sen- 
timent, and  not  less  dignity  or  tenderness 
of  soul.     The  character  of  Roxane  is  con- 
ceived with  truth  and  spirit ;  nor  is  the  re- 
semblance some  have  found  in  it  to  that 
of  Hermione  greater  than  belongs  to  forms 
of  the  same  type.     Aeomat,  the  vi7ir,  is 
more  a  favourite  with  the  French  critics ; 
but  in  such  parts  Racine  does  not  rise  to 
the  level  of  Corneille.    No  poet  is  less  ex- 
posed to  the  imputation  of  bombastic  ex- 
aggeration;  yet  in   the  two  lines  with 
which  Acomat  concludes  the  fourth  act, 
there  seems  almost  an  approach  to  bur- 
lesque ;  and  one  can  hardly  say  that  they 
would  have  been  out  of  place  in  Tom 
Thumb  : 

"  Moiirons,moi,oherOsrnin,comme  un  vizir, et  toi, 
Comme  le  favort  d'un  homme  tel  que  moi." 

10.  The  next  tragedy  was  Mithridate  ; 
and   in   this    Racine    has    been  MUhridate 
thought  to  have  wrestled  against 
Corneille  on  his  own  ground,  the  display 
of  the  unconquerable  mind  of  a  hero.    We 
find  in  the  part  of  Mithridate  a  great  depth 
of  thought  in  compressed  and  energetic 
language.    But,  unlike  the  masculine  char- 
acters of  Corneille,  he  is  not  merely  sen- 
tentious.   Racine  introduces  no  one  for 


386 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


the  sake  of  the  speeches  he  has  to  utter.  I 
In  Mithridates  he  took  what  history  has  ' 
delivered  to  us,  blending  with  it  no  im- 
probable fiction  according  to  the  manners 
of  the  East.  His  love  for  Monime  has  no- 
thing in  it  extraordinary,  or  unlike  what 
we  might  expect  from  the  King  of  Pon- 
tus ;  it  is  a  fierce,  a  jealous,  a  vindictive 
love ;  the  necessities  of  the  French  lan- 
guage alone,  and  the  usages  of  the  French 
theatre,  could  make  it  appear  feeble.  His 
two  sons  are  naturally  less  effective  ;  but 
the  loveliness  of  Monime  yields  to  no  fe- 
male character  of  Racine.  There  is  some- 
thing not  quite  satisfactory  in  the  strata- 
gems which  Mithridates  employs  to  draw 
from  her  a  confession  of  her  love  for  his 
son.  They  are  not  uncongenial  to  the 
historic  character,  but,  according  to  our 
chivalrous  standard  of  heroism,  seem  de- 
rogatory to  the  poetical. 

11.  Iphigenie  followed  in  1674.  In  this 
.  Racine  had  again  to  contend  with 
e'  Euripides  in  one  of  his  most  cel- 
ebrated tragedies.  He  had  even,  in  the 
character  of  Achilles,  to  contend,  not  with 
Homer  himself,  yet  with  the  Homeric  as- 
sociations familiar  to  every  classical  schol- 
ar. The  love,  in  fact,  of  Achilles,  and  his 
politeness  towards  Clytemnestra,  are  not 
exempt  from  a  tone  of  gallantry  a  little 
repugnant  to  our  conception  of  his  man- 
ners. Yet  the  Achilles  of  Homer  is  nei- 
ther incapable  of  love  nor  of  courtesy,  so 
that  there  is  no  essential  repugnance  to 
his  character.  That  of  Iphigenia  in  Eu- 
ripides has  been  censured  by  Aristotle  as 
inconsistent ;  her  extreme  distress  at  the 
first  prospect  of  death  being  followed  by 
an  unusual  display  of  courage.  Hurd  has 
taken  upon  him  the  defence  of  the  Greek 
tragedian,  and  observes,  after  Brumoy, 
that  the  Iphigenia  of  Racine  being  modell- 
ed rather  after  the  comment  of  Aristotle 
than  the  example  of  Euripides,  is  so  much 
the  worse.*  But  his  apology  is  too  sub- 
tle, and  requires  too  long  reflection,  for  the 
ordinary  spectator ;  and,  though  Shaks- 
peare  might  have  managed  the  transition 
of  feeling  with  some  of  his  wonderful 
knowledge  of  human  nature,  it  is  certainly 
presented  too  crudely  by  Euripides,  and 
much  in  the  style  which  1  have  elsewhere 
observed  to  be  too  usual  with  our  old 
dramatists.  The  Iphigenia  of  Racine  is 
not  a  character,  like  those  of  Shakspeare, 
and  of  him  perhaps  alone,  which  nothing 
less  than  intense  meditation  can  develop 
to  the  reader,  but  one  which  a  good  actress 
might  compass  and  a  common  spectator 
understand.  Racine,  like  most  other  tra- 


*  Kurd's  Commentary  on  Horace,  •vol.  i.,  p.  115. 


gedians,  wrote  for  the  stage  ;  Shakspeare 
aimed  at  a  point  beyond  it,  and  sometimes 
too  much  lost  sight  of  what  it  required. 

12.  Several  critics  have  censured  the 
part  of  Eriphile.     Yet  Fontenelle,  preju- 
diced as  he  was  against  Racine,  admits 
that  it  is  necessary  for  the  catastrophe, 
though  he  cavils,  I  think,  against  her  ap- 
pearance in  the  earlier  part  of  the  play, 
laying  down  a  rule  by  which  our  own  tra- 
gedians would  not  have  chosen  to  be  tried, 
and  which  seems  far  too  rigid,  that  the  ne- 
cessity of  the  secondary  characters  should 
be  perceived  from  their  first  appearance.* 
The  question  for  Racine  was  in  what  man- 
ner he  should  manage  the   catastrophe. 
The  fabulous  truth,  the  actual  sacrifice  of 
Iphigenia,  was  so  revolting  to  the  mind, 
that  even  Euripides  thought  himself  obli- 
ged to  depart  from  it.    But  this  he  effected 
by  a  contrivance  impossible  on  the  French 
stage,  and  which  would  have  changed  Ra- 
cine's tragedy  to  a  common  melodrame. 
It  appears  to  me  that  he  very  happily  sub- 
stituted the  character  of  Eriphile,  who,  as 
Fontenelle  well  says,  is  the  hind  of  the  fa- 
ble ;  and  whose  impetuous  and  somewhat 
disorderly  passions  both  furnish  a  contrast 
to  the  ideal  nobleness  of  Iphigenia  through- 
out the  tragedy,  and  reconcile  us  to  her 
own  fate  at  the  close. 

13.  Once  more,  in  Phedre,  did  the  great 
disciple  of  Euripides  attempt  to  sur- 

pass  his  master.  In  both  tragedies 
the  character  of  Phaedra  herself  throws 
into  shade  all  the  others,  but  with  this  im- 
portant difference,  that  in  Euripides  her 
death  occurs  about  the  middle  of  the  piece, 
while  she  continues  in  Racine  till  the  con- 
clusion. The  French  poet  has  borrowed 
much  from  the  Greek,  more,  perhaps,  than 
in  any  former  drama,  but  has  surely  height- 
ened the  interest,  and  produced  a  more 
splendid  work  of  genius.  I  have  never 
read  the  particular  criticism  in  which 
Schlegel  has  endeavoured  to  elevate  the 
Hippolytus  above  the  Phedre.  Many,  even 
among  French  critics,  have  objected  to  the 
love  of  Hippolytus  for  Aricia,  by  which 
Racine  has  deviated  from  the  mytholo- 
gical tradition.  But  we  are  hardly  tied 
to  all  the  circumstance  of  fable  ;  and  the 
cold  young  huntsman  loses  nothing  in  the 
eyes  of  a  modern  reader  by  a  virtuous  at- 
tachment. This  tragedy  is  said  to  be  more 
open  to  verbal  criticism  than  the  Iphige- 
nie; but  in  poetical  beauty  I  do  not  knovr 
that  Racine  has  ever  surpassed  it.  The 
description  of  the  death  of  Hippolytus  is 
perhaps  his  master-piece.  It  is  true  that, 


*  Reflexions  sur  la  Poetique.    (Euvwde  Fon- 
tenelle, vol.  iii.,  p.  149. 


FROM  1650  TO  1700. 


Esther. 


according  to  the  practice  of  our  own  stage, 
long  descriptions,  especially  in  elaborate 
language,  are  out  of  use  ;  but  it  is  not,  at 
least,  for  the  advocates  of  Euripides  to 
blame  them. 

14.  The  Phedre  was  represented  m 
1677 ;  and  after  this  its  illustrious 
author  seemed  to  renounce  the 
stage.  His  increasing  attachment  to  the 
Jansenists  made  it  almost  impossible,  with 
any  consistency,  to  promote  an  amuse- 
ment they  anathematized.  But  he  was 
induced,  after  many  years,  in  1689,  by 
Madame  de  Maintenon,  to  write  Esther 
for  the  purpose  of  representation  by  the 
young  ladies  whose  education  she  pro- 
tected at  St.  Cyr.  Esther,  though  very 
much  praised  for  beauty  of  language,  is 
admitted  to  possess  little  merit  as  a  dra- 
ma. Much,  indeed,  could  not  be  expected 
in  the  circumstances.  It  was  acted  at  St. 
Cyr ;  Louis  applauded,  and  it  is  said  that 
the  Prince  de  Conde  wept.  The  greatest 
praise  of  Esther  is  that  it  encouraged  its 
Athaiie.  ailtnor  to  write  Athalie.  Once 
more  restored  to  dramatic  concep- 
tions, his  genius  revived  from  sleep  with 
no  loss  of  the  vigour  of  yesterday.  He 
was  even  more  in  Athalie  than  in  Iphi- 
genie  and  Britannicus.  This  great  work, 
published  in  1691,  with  a  royal  prohibition 
to  represent  it  on  any  theatre,  stands  by 
general  consent  at  the  head  of  all  the  tra- 
gedies of  Racine,  for  the  grandeur,  simpli- 
city, and  interest  of  the  fable,  for  dramatic 
terror,  for  theatrical  effect,  for  clear  and 
judicious  management,  for  bold  and  forci- 
ble rather  than  subtle  delineation  of  char- 
acter, for  sublime  sentiment  and  imagery. 
It  equals,  if  it  does  not,  as  I  should  incline 
to  think,  surpass,  all  the  rest  in  the  per- 
fection of  style,  and  is  far  more  free  from 
every  defect,  especially  from  ftJeble  polite- 
ness and  gallantry,  which,  of  course,  the 
subject  could  not  admit.  It  has  'jeen  said 
that  he  gave  himself  the  preference  to 
Phedre  ;  but  it  is  more  extraordinary  that 
not  only  his  enemies,  of  whom  there  were 
many,  but  the  public  itself,  was  for  some 
years  incapable  of  discovering  the  merit 
of  Athalie.  Boileau  declared  it  to  be  a 
master-piece,  and  one  can  only  be  aston- 
ished that  any  could  have  thought  differ- 
ently from  Boileau.  It  doubtless  gained 
much  in  general  esteem  when  it  came  to 
be  represented  by  good  actors;  for  no 
tragedy  in  the  French  language  is  more 
peculiarly  fitted  for  the  stage. 

15.  The  chorus  which  he  had  previously 
introduced  in  Esther  was  a  very  bold  in- 
novation (for  the  revival  of  what  is  forgot- 
ten must  always  be  classed  as  innova- 
tion), and  it  required  all  the  skill  of  Racine 


387 


to  prevent  its  appearing  in  our  eyes  an  im 
pertinent  excrescence.  But  though  we  do 
not,  perhaps,  wholly  reconcile  ourselves 
to  some  of  the  songs,  which  too  much  sug- 
gest, by  association,  the  Italian  opera,  the 
chorus  of  Athalie  enhances  the  interest 
as  well  as  the  splendour  of  the  tragedy. 
It  was,  indeed,  more  full  of  action  and 
scenic  pomp  than  any  he  had  written,  and 
probably  than  any  other  which  up  to  that 
time  had  been  represented  in  France. 
The  part  of  Athalie  predominates,  but  not 
so  as  to  eclipse  the  rest.  The  high-priest 
Joad  is  drawn  with  a  stern  zeal  admirably 
dramatic,  and  without  which  the  idolatrous 
queen  would  have  trampled  down  all  be- 
fore her  during  the  conduct  of  the  fable, 
whatever  justice  might  have  ensued  at  the 
last.  We  feel  this  want  of  an  adequate 
resistance  to  triumphant  crime  in  the  Ro- 
dogune  of  Corneille.  No  character  ap- 
pears superfluous  or  feeble ;  while  the  plot 
lias  all  the  simplicity  of  the  Greek  stage, 
:t  has  all  the  movement  and  continual  ex- 
:itation  of  the  modern. 

16.  The  female  characters  of  Racine  are 
of  the    greatest    beauty;    they  Racine's fe- 
lave  the  ideal  grace  and  harmo-  male  ctmr- 
ly  of  ancient  sculpture,  and  bear  acters' 
somewhat  of  the  same  analogy  to  those  of 
Shakspeare  which  that  art  does  to  paint- 
"ng.     Andromache,   Monimia,  Iphigenia, 
>ve   may  add  Junia,  have  a  dignity  and 
'aultlessness  neither  unnatural  nor  insipid, 
jecause  they  are  only  the  ennobling  and 
jurifying  of  human  passions.     They  are 
;he  forms  of  possible  excellence,  not  from 
ndividual  models,  nor  likely,  perhaps,  to 

delight  every  reader,  for  the  same  reason 
hat  more  eyes  are  pleased  by  Titian  than 
>y  Raffaelle.  But  it  jp  a  very  narrow  crit- 
cism  which  exclude*  either  school  from 
our  admiration,  which  disparages  Racine 
out  of  idolatry  of  Shakspeare.  The  latter, 
t  is  unnecessary  for  rne  to  say,  stands  out 
of  reach  of  all  competition.  But  it  is  not 
on  this  account  that  we  are  to  give  up  an 
author  so  admirable  as  Racine. 

17.  The   chief  faults  of   Racine  may 
>artly  be  ascribed  to  the  influ-  Racine  com 

nee  of  national  taste,  though  pared  with 
we  must  confess  that  Corncille 
las  avoided  them.  Though  love  with  him 
s  always  tragic  and  connected  with  the 
leroic  passions,  never  appearing  singly,  as 
n  several  of  our  own  dramatists,  yet  it  is 
sometimes  unsuitable  to  the  character,  and 
still  more  frequently  feeble  and  courtier- 
ike  in  the  expression.  In  this  he  com- 
plied too  much  with  the  times ;  but  we 
nust  believe  that  he  did  not  entirely  feel 
hat  he  was  wrong.  Corneille  had,  even 
while  Racine  was  in  his  glory,  a  strenuous 


388 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


band  of  supporters.  Fontenelle,  writing 
in  the  next  century,  declares  that  time  has 
established  a  decision  in  which  most  seem 
to  concur,  that  the  first  place  is  due  to  the 
elder  poet,  the  second  to  the  younger ; 
every  one  making  the  interval  between 
them  a  little  greater  or  less,  according  to 
his  taste.*  But  Voltaire,  La  Harpe,  and 
in  general,  I  apprehend,  the  later  French 
critics,  have  given  the  preference  to  Ra- 
cine. I  presume  to  join  my  suffrage  to 
theirs.  Raciue  appears  to  me  the  supe- 
rior tragedian ;  and  I  must  add  that  I  think 
him  next  to  Shakspeare  among  all  the 
moderns.  The  comparison  with  Euripides 
is  so  natural  that  it  can  hardly  be  avoided. 
Certainly  no  tragedy  of  the  Greek  poet  is 
so  skilful  or  so  perfect  as  Athalie  or  Bri- 
tannicus.  The  tedious  scenes  during 
which  the  action  is  stagnant ;  the  imperti- 
nences of  useless,  often  perverse  morali- 
ty; the  extinction,  by  bad  management,  of 
the  sympathy  that  had  been  raised  in  the 
earlier  part  of  a  play ;  the  foolish  alterna- 
tion of  repartees  in  a  series  of  single  lines, 
•will  never  be  found  in  Racine.  But,  when 
we  look  only  at  the  highest  excellences 
of  Euripides,  there  is,  perhaps,  a  depth  of 
pathos  and  an  intensity  of  dramatic  effect 
which  Racine  himself  has  not  attained. 
The  difference  between  the  energy  and 
sweetness  of  the  two  languages  is  so  im- 
portant in  the  comparison,  that  I  shall  give 
even  this  preference  with  some  hesita- 
tion. 

18.  The  style  of  Racine  is  exquisite. 
Beauty  of  Perhaps  he  is  second  only  to 
ins  style.  Virgil  among  all  poets.  But  I 
will  give  the  praise  of  this  in  the  words 
of  a  native  critic.  __  "  His  expression  is  al- 
ways so  happy  and  so  natural,  that  it 
seems  as  if  no  othem  could  have  been 
found  ;  and  every  worn  is  placed  in  such 
a  manner  that  we  cannot  fancy  any  other 
place  to  have  suited  it  as  well.  The 
structure  of  his  style  is  such  that  nothing- 
could  be  displaced,  nothing  added,  nothing 
retrenched ;  it  is  one  unalterable  whole. 
Even  his  incorrectnesses  are  often  but 
sacrifices  required  by  good  taste,  nor 
would  anything  be  more  difficult  than  to 
write  over  again  a  line  of  Racine.  No 
one  has  enriched  the  language  with  a 
greater  number  of  turns  of  phrase ;  no 
one  is  bold  with  more  felicity  and  discre- 
tion, or  figurative  with  more  grace  and 
propriety  ;  no  one  has  handled  with  more 
command  an  idiom  often  rebellious,  or 
with  more  skill  an  instrument  always  dif- 
ficult ;  no  one  has  better  understood  that 
delicacy  of  style  which  must  not  be  mis- 


*  P.  118. 


taken  for  feebleness,  and  is,  in  fact,  but 
that  air  of  ease  which  conceals  from  the 
reader  the  labour  of  the  work  and  the  ar- 
tifices of  the  composition ;  or  better  man- 
aged the  variety  of  cadences,  the  resources 
of  rhythm,  the  association  and  deduction 
of  ideas.  In  short,  if  we  consider  that  his 
perfection  in  these  respects  may  be  oppo- 
sed to  that  of  Virgil,  and  that  he  spoke  a 
language  less  flexible,  less  poetical,  and 
less  harmonious,  we  shall  readily  believe 
that  Racine  is,  of  all  mankind,  the  one  to 
whom  nature  has  given  the  greatest  tal- 
ent for  versification."* 

19.  Thomas,  the  younger  and  far  infe- 
rior brother  of  Pierre  Corneille,  Thoma!, 
was  yet,  by  the  fertility  of  his  fomeiiie: 
pen,  by  the  success  of  some  of  hisA"ane. 
his  tragedies,  and  by  a  certain  reputation 
which  two  of  them  have  acquired,  the 
next  name,  but  at  a  vast  interval,  to  Ra- 
cine. Voltaire  says  he  would  have  en- 
joyed a  great  reputation  but  for  that  of 
his  brother  :  one  of  those  pointed  sayings 
which  seem  to  mean  something,  but  are 
devoid  of  meaning.  Thomas  Corneille  is 
never  compared  with  his  brother;  and 
probably  his  brother  has  been  rather  ser- 
viceable to  his  name  with  posterity  than 
otherwise.  He  wrote  with  more  purity, 
according  to  the  French  critics,  than  his 
brother;  and  it  must  be  owned  that,  in  his 
Ariane,  he  has  given  to  love  a  tone  more 
passionate  and  natural  than  the  manly 
scenes  of  the  older  tragedian  ever  present. 
This  is  esteemed  his  best  work,  but  it  de- 
pends wholly  on  the  principal  character, 
whose  tenderness  and  injuries  excite  our 
sympathy,  and  from  whose  lips  many 
lines  of  great  beauty  flow.  It  may  be 
compared  with  the  Berenice  of  Racine, 
represented  but  a  short  time  before  ;  there 
is  enough  of  resemblance  in  the  fables  to 
provoke  comparison.  That  of  Thomas 
Corneille  is  more  tragic,  less  destitute  of 
theatrical  movement,  and,  consequently, 
better  chosen ;  but  such  relative  praise  is 
of  little  value,  where  none  can  be  given, 
in  this  respect,  to  the  object  of  compari- 
son. We  feel  that  the  prose  romance  is 
the  proper  sphere  for  the  display  of  an 
affection  neither  untrue  to  nature  nor  un- 
worthy to  move  the  heart,  but  wanting 
the  majesty  of  the  tragic  muse.  An  ef- 
feminacy uncongenial  to  tragedy  belongs 
to  this  play ;  and  the  termination,  where 
the  heroine  faints  away  instead  of  dying, 
is  somewhat  insipid.  The  only  other  tra- 
gedy of  the  younger  Corneille  that  can  be 
mentioned  is  the  Earl  of  Essex.  In  this 


*  La  Harpe,  Eloge  de  Racine,  as  quoted  by  him- 
self in  Cours  de  Litterature,  vol.  vi. 


FROM  1650  TO  1700. 


389 


h  Slas  taken  greater  liberties  with  history 
than  his  critics  approve  ;  and,  though  love 
does  not  so  much  predominate  as  in  Ari- 
ane,  it  seems  to  engross,  in  a  style  rather 
too  romantic,  both  the  hero  and  his  sov- 
ereign. 

20.  Neither  of  these  tragedies,  perhaps, 
Maniius  of  deserves  to  be  put  on  a  level  with 
La  Fo.-ise.  the  Maniius  of  La  Fosse,  to  which 
La  Harpe  accords  the  preference  above 
all  of  the  seventeenth  century  after  those 
of  Corneille  and  Racine.  It  is  just  to  ob- 
serve, what  is  not  denied,  that  the  author 
has  borrowed  the  greater  part  of  his  story 
from  the  Venice  Preserved  of  Otway. 
The  French  critics  maintain  that  he  has 
far  excelled  his  original.  It  is  possible 
that  we  might  hesitate  to  own  this  supe- 
riority ;  but  several  blemishes  have  been 
removed,  and  the  conduct  is  perhaps  more 
noble,  or,  at  least,  more  fitted  to  the  French 
stage.  But  when  we  take  from  La  Fosse 
what  belongs  to  another — characters 
strongly  marked,  sympathies  powerfully 
contrasted,  a  development  of  the  plot  prob- 
bable  and  interesting — what,  will  remain 
that  is  purely  his  own  1  There  will  re- 
main a  vigorous  tone  of  language,  a  con- 
siderable power  of  description,  and  a  skill 
in  adapting,  we  may  add  with  justice,  in 
improving,  what  he  found  in  a  foreign  lan- 
guage. We  must  pass  over  some  other 
tragedies  which  have  obtained  less  hon- 
our in  their  native  land,  those  of  Duche, 
Quinault,  and  Campistron. 

21.  Moliere  is  perhaps,  of  all  French 

writers,  the  one  whom  his  coun- 
try  has  most  uniformly  admired, 
and  in  whom  her  critics  are  most  unwill- 
ing to  acknowledge  faults;  though  the 
observations  of  Schlcgel  on  the  defects 
of  Moliere,  and  especially  on  his  large 
debts  to  older  comedy,  are  not  altogether 
without  foundation.  Moliere  began  with 
L'Etourdi  in  1053,  and  his  pieces  followed 
rapidly  till  his  death  in  1673.  About  one 
half,  are  in  verse :  I  shall  select  a  few 
without  regard  to  order  of  time,  and,  first, 
one  written  in  prose,  L'Avare. 

22.  Plautus  first  exposed  upon  the  stage 

the  wretchedness  of  avarice,  the 
L'Avare.  punjsnment  Of  a  selfish  love  of  gold, 
not  only  in  the  life  of  pain  it  has  cost  to 
acquire  it,  but  in  the  terrors  that  it  brings, 
in  the  disordered  state  of  mind,  which  is 
haunted,  as  by  some  mysterious  guilt,  by 
the  consciousness  of  secret  wealth.  The 
character  of  Euclio,  in  the  Aulularia,  is 
dramatic,  and,  as  far  as  we  know,  origi- 
nal; the  moral  effect  requires,  perhaps, 
some  touches  beyond  absolute  probabili- 
ty, but  it  must  be  confessed  that  a  few 
passages  are  overcharged.  Moliere  bor- 


rowed L'Avare  from  this  comedy ;  and  I 
am  not  at  present  aware  that  the  subject, 
though  so  well  adapted  for  the  stage,  had 
been  chosen  by  any  intermediate  drama- 
tist. He  is  indebted,  not  merely  for  the 
scheme  of  his  play,  but  for  many  strokes 
of  humour,  to  Plautus.  But  this  takes  off 
little  from  the  merit  of  this  :xcellent  com- 
edy. The  plot  is  expanded  without  in- 
congruous or  improbable  circumstances ; 
new  characters  are  well  combined  with 
that  of  Harpagon,  and  his  own  is  at  once 
more  diverting  and  less  extravagant  than 
that  of  Euclio.  The  penuriousness  of  the 
latter,  though  by  no  means  without  ex- 
ample, leaves  no  room  for  any  other  ob- 
ject than  the  concealed  treasure  in  which 
his  thoughts  are  concentred.  But  Mo- 
liere had  conceived  a  more  complicated 
action.  Harpagon  does  not  absolutely 
starve  the  rats ;  he  possesses  horses, 
though  he  feeds  them  ill ;  he  has  ser- 
vants, though  he  grudges  them  clothes : 
he  even  contemplates  a  marriage-supper 
at  his  own  expense,  though  he  intends  to 
have  a  bad  one.  He  has  evidently  been 
compelled  to  make  some  sacrifices  to  the 
usages  of  mankind,  and  is  at  once  a  more 
common  and  a  more  theatrical  character 
than  Euclio.  In  other  respects  they  are 
much  alike;  their  avarjce  has  reached 
that  point  where  it  is  without  pride ;  the 
dread  of  losing  their  wealth  has  overpow- 
ered the  desire  of  being  thought  to  pos- 
sess it ;  and,  though  this  is  a  more  natu- 
ral incident  in  the  manners  of  Greece  than 
in  those  of  France,  yet  the  concealment 
of  treasure,  even  in  the  time  of  Moliere 
was  sufficiently  frequent  for  dramatic 
probability.  A  general  tone  of  selfish- 
ness, the  usual  source  and  necessary  con- 
sequence of  avarice,  conspires  with  the 
latter  quality  to  render  Harpagon  odious ; 
and  there  wants  but  a  little  more  poetical 
justice  in  the  conclusion,  which  leaves  the 
casket  in  his  possession. 

23.  Kurd  has  censured  Moliere  without 
much  justice.  "  For  the  picture  of  the 
avaricious  man,  Plautus  and  Moliere  have 
presented  us  with  a  fantastic,  unpleasing 
draught  of  the  passion  of  avarice."  It 
may  be  answered  to  this,  that  Harpagon's 
character  is,  as  has  been  said  above,  not 
so  mere  a  delineation  of  the  passion  as 
that  of  Euclio.  But,  as  a  more  general 
vindication  of  Moliere,  it  should  be  kept  in 
mind,  that  every  exhibition  of  a  predomi- 
nant passion  within  the  compass  of  the 
five  acts  of  a  play  must  be  coloured  be- 
yond the  truth  of  nature,  or  it  will  not 
have  time  to  produce  its  effect.  This  is 
one  great  advantage  that  romance  pos- 
sesses over  the  drama. 


390 


24.  L'Ecole  des  Femmes  is  among  the 
L'Ecoie  des  most  diverting  comedies  of  Mo- 
Femmes.       Here.     Yet  it  has  in  a  remarka- 
ble degree  what  seems  inartificial  to  our 
own  taste,  and  contravenes  a  good  gener- 
al precept  of  Horace ;  the  action  passes 
almost  wholly  in  recital.     But  this  is  so 
well  connected  with  the  development  of 
the  plot  and  characters,  and  produces  such 
amusing  scenes,  that  no  spectator,  at  least 
on  the  French  theatre,  would  be  sensible 
of  any  languor.     Arnolphe  is  an  excellent 
modification  of  the  type   which   Moliere 
loved  to  reproduce ;   the  selfish  and  mo- 
rose cynic,  whose  pretended  hatred  of  the 
vices  of  the  world  springs  from  aji  absorb- 
ing regard  to  his  own  gratification.     He 
has  made  him  as  malignant  as  censorious ; 
he  delights  in  tales  of  scandal ;  he  is  pleas- 
ed that  Horace  should  be  successful   in 
gallantry,  because  it  degrades  others.    The 
half-witted  and  ill-bred  child,  of  whom  he 
becomes  the  dupe,  as  well  as  the  two  idiot 
servants,  are  delineated  with  equal  vivaci- 
ty.    In  this  comedy  we  find  the  spirited 
versification,  full  of  grace  and  humour,  in 
which  no  one  has  rivalled  Moliere,  and 
which  has  never  been  attempted  on  the 
English  stage.     It  was  probably  its  merit 
which  raised  a  host  of  petty  detractors, 
on  whom  the  author  revenged  himself  in 
his  admirable  piece  of  satire,  La  Critique 
de   1'Ecole  des   Femmes.     The  affected 
pedantry  of  the  H6tel  Rambouillet  seems 
to  be  ridiculed  in  this  retaliation  ;  nothing, 
in  fact,  could  be  more  unlike  than  the  style 
of  Moliere  to  their  own. 

25.  He  gave  another  proof  of  contempt 
LeMisan-  for  the  false  taste  o^  some  Pari- 
thrope.      sian  circles  in  the  Misanthrope : 
though   the  criticism  of  Alceste  on  the 
wretched  sonnet  forms  but  a  subordinate 
portion  of  that  famous  comedy.     It  is  gen- 
erally placed  next  to  Tartuffe  among  the 
works  of  Moliere.     Alceste  is  again  the 
cynic,  but  more  honourable  and  less  open- 
ly selfish,  and  with  more  of  a  real  disdain 
of  vice  in  his   misanthropy.      Rousseau, 
upon  this  account,  and  many  others  after 
him,  have  treated  the  play  as  a  vindication 
of  insincerity  against  truth,  and  as  making 
virtue  itself  ridiculous  on  the  stage.     This 
charge,  however,  seems  uncandid ;    nei- 
ther the  rudeness  of  Alceste,  nor  the  mis- 
anthropy from  which  it  springs,  are  to  be 
called  virtues ;  and  we  may  observe  that 
he  displays  no  positively  good  quality  be- 
yond sincerity,  unless  his  ungrounded  and 
improbable  love  for  a  coquette  is  to  pass 
for  such.     It  is  true  that  the  politeness  of 
Philinthe,  with  whom  the  Misanthrope  is 
contrasted,  borders  a  little  too  closely  upon 
flattery ;  but  no  oblique  end  is  in  his  view ; 


he  flatters  to  give  pleasure ;  and  if  we  do 
not  much  esteem  his  character,  we  are 
not  solicitous  for  his  punishment.  The 
dialogue  of  the  Misanthrope  is  uniformly 
of  the  highest  style ;  the  female,  and,  in- 
deed, all  the  characters,  are  excellently 
conceived  and  sustained ;  and  if  this  com- 
edy fails  of  anything  at  present,  it  is 
through  the  difference  of  manners,  and, 
perhaps,  in  representation,  through  the 
want  of  animated  action  on  the  stage. 

26.  In  Les  Femmes  Savantes  there  is 
a  more  evident  personality  in  i.8s  Femmes 
the  characters,  and  a  more  ma-  Savantes. 
licious  exposure  of  absurdity  than  in  the 
Misanthrope  ;  but  the  ridicule,  falling  on  a 
less  numerous  class,  is  not  so  well  calcu- 
lated to  be  appreciated  by  posterity.     It  is, 
however,  both  in  reading  and  representa- 
tion, a  more  amusing  comedy :  in  no  one 
instance  has  Moliere  delineated  such  va- 
riety of  manners,  or  displayed  so  much  of 
his  inimitable  gayety  and  power  of  fasci- 
nating the  audience  with  very  little  plot, 
by  the  mere  exhibition  of  human  follies. 
The  satire  falls  deservedly  on  pretenders 
to  taste  and  literature,  for  whom  Moliere 
always  testifies  a  bitterness  of  scorn,  in 
which  we  perceive  some  resentment  of 
their  criticisms.     The  shorter  piece,  enti- 
tled Les  Precieuses  Ridicules,  is  another 
shaft  directed  at  the  literary  ladies  of  Par- 
is.    They  had  provoked  a  dangerous  ene- 
my ;   but  the  good  taste  of  the  next  age 
might  be  ascribed  in  great  measure  to  his 
unmerciful  exposure   of   affectation   and 
pedantry. 

27.  It  was  not  easy,  so  late  as  the  age 
of  Moliere,  for  the  dramatist  to  find  Tarluffe 
any  untrodden  field  in  the  follies 

and  vices  of  mankind.  But  one  had  been 
reserved  for  him  in  Tartuffe — religious 
hypocrisy.  We  should  have  expected  the 
original  draught  of  such  a  character  on  the 
English  stage  ;  nor  had  our  old  writers 
been  forgetful  of  their  inveterate  enemies, 
the  Puritans,  who  gave  such  full  scope  for 
their  satire.  But,  choosing  rather  the  easy 
path  of  ridicule,  they  fell  upon  the  starch 
dresses  and  quaint  language  of  the  fanati- 
cal party  ;  and,  where  they  exhibited  these 
in  conjunction  with  hypocrisy,  made  the 
latter  more  ludicrous  than  hateful.  The 
Luke  of  Massinger  is  deeply  and  villan- 
ously  dissembling,  but  does  not  wear  so 
conspicuous  a  garb  of  religious  sanctity  as 
Tartuffe.  The  comedy  of  Moliere  is  not 
only  original  in  this  character,  but  is  a 
new  creation  in  dramatic  poetry.  It  has 
been  doubted  by  some  critics  whether  the 
depth  of  guilt  it  exhibits  the  serious  ha- 
tred it  inspires,  are  not  beyond  the  strict 
province  of  comedy.  But  this  seems 


FROM  1650  TO  1700. 


39i 


rather  a  technical  cavil.  If  subjects  such 
as  the  Tartuffe  are  not  fit  for  comedy, 
they  are  at  least  fit  for  dramatic  repre- 
sentation, and  some  new  phrase  must  be 
invented  to  describe  their  class. 

28.  A  different  kind  of  objection  is  still 
sometimes    made   to   this   play,   that    it 
brings  religion  itself  into  suspicion.     And 
this  would  no  doubt  have  been  the  case, 
if  the  contemporaries  of  Moliere  in  Eng- 
land had  dealt  with  the  subject.     But  the 
boundaries   between   the   reality  and  its 
false  appearances  are  so  well  guarded  in 
this  comedy,  that  no  reasonable  ground  of 
exception  can  be  thought  to  remain.     No 
better  advice  can  be  given  to  those  who 
take  umbrage  at  the  Tartuffe  than  to  read 
it  again.     For  there  may  be  good  reason 
to  suspect  that  they  are  themselves  among 
those  for  whose  benefit  it  was  intended  ; 
the  Tartuffes,  happily,  may  be  compara- 
tively few;    but,  while  the  Orgons   and 
Pernelles   are   numerous,  they  will   not 
want  their  harvest.     Moliere  did  not  in- 
vent the  prototypes  of  his  hypocrite  ;  they 
were  abundant  at  Paris  in  his  time. 

29.  The  interest  of  this  play  continually 
increases,  and  the  fifth  act  is  almost  crowd- 
ed by  a  rapidity  of  events,  not  so  usual  on 
the  French  stage  as  our  own.     Tartuffe 
himself  is  a  masterpiece  of  skill.     Per- 
haps in  the  cavils  of  La  Bruyere  there 
may  be  some  justice  ;    but  the  essayist 
has  forgotten  that   no  character  can  be 
rendered  entirely  effective  to  an  audience 
without  a  little  exaggeration  of  its  attri- 
butes.   Nothing  can  be  more  happily  con- 
ceived than  the  credulity  of  the  honest 
Orgon,  and  his  more  doting  mother ;  it  is 
that  which  we  sometimes  witness,  incu- 
rable except  by  the  evidence  of  the  senses, 
and  fighting  every  inch  of  ground  against 
that.      In  such  a  subject   there  was  not 
much  opportunity  for  the  comic  talent  of 
Moliere  ;  yet  in  some  well-known  passa- 
ges he  has  enlivened  it  as  far  as  was  pos- 
sible.    The  Tartuffe  will  generally  be  es- 
teemed the  greatest  effort  of  this  author's 
genius ;    the   Misanthrope,   the   Femines 
Savantes,   and   the    Ecole   des   Femmes 
will  follow  in  various  order,  according  to 
our  tastes.     These  are  by  far  the  best  of 
his  comedies  in  verse.     Among  those  in 
prose    we    may  give   the   first  place  to 
L'Avare,  and  the  next  either  to  Le  Bour- 
geois Gentilhomme,  or  to  George  Dan- 
din. 

30.  These  two  plays  have  the  same  ob- 

jects of  moral  satire  :  on  one 
oSomme.  hand,  the  absurd  vanity  of  ple- 
Georgo  Dan-  beians  in  seeking  the  alliance 

or  acquaintance  of  the  nobility; 
on  the  other,  the  pride  and  meanness  of 


the  nobility  themselves.  They  are  both 
abundantly  diverting;  but  the  sallies  of 
humour  are,  I  think,  more  frequent  in  the 
first  three  acts  of  the  former.  The  last 
two  acts  are  improbable,  and  less  amusing. 
The  shorter  pieces  of  Moliere  border  very 
much  upon  farce ;  he  permits  himself 
more  vulgarity  of  character,  more  gross- 
ness  in  language  and  incident;  but  his 
farces  are  seldom  absurd,  and  never  dull. 
31.  The  French  have  claimed  for  Mo- 
liere, and  few,  perhaps,  have  dis-  character  of 
puted  the  pretension,  a  superi-  Moliere. 
ority  over  all  earlier  and  later  writers  of 
comedy.  He  certainly  leaves  Plautus,  the 
original  model  of  the  school  to  which  he 
belonged,  at  a  vast  distance.  The  grace 
and  gentlemanly  elegance  of  Terence  he 
has  not  equalled  ;  but,  in  the  more  appro- 
priate merits  of  comedy,  just  and  forcible 
delineation  of  character,  skilful  contri- 
vance of  circumstances,  and  humorous 
dialogue,  we  must  award  him  the  prize. 
The  Italian  and  Spanish  dramatists  are 
quite  unworthy  to  be  named  in  compari- 
son ;  and  if  the  French  theatre  has  in 
later  times,  as  is  certainly  the  case,  pro- 
duced some  excellent  comedies,  we  have, 
I  believe,  no  reason  to  contradict  the  suf- 
frage of  the  nation  itself,  that  they  owe 
almost  as  much  to  what  they  have  caught 
from  this  great  model  as  to  the  natural 
genius  of  their  authors.  But  it  is  not  for 
us  to  abandon  the  rights  of  Shakspeare. 
In  all  things  most  essential  to  comedy,  we 
cannot  acknowledge  his  inferiority  to  Mo- 
liere. He  had  far  more  invention  of  char- 
acters, and  an  equal  vivacity  and  force  in 
their  delineation.  His  humour  was  at 
least  as  abundant  and  natural,  his  wit  in- 
comparably more  brilliant  ;  in  fact,  Mo- 
liere hardly  exhibits  this  quality  at  all. 
The  Merry  Wives  of  Windsor,  almost 
the  only  pure  comedy  of  Shakspeare,  is 
surely  not  disadvantageously  compared 
with  George  Dandin,  or  Le  Bourgeois 
Gentilhomme,  or  even  with  L'Ecole  des 
Femmes.  For  the  Tartuffe  or  the  Misan- 
thrope it  is  vain  to  seek  a  proper  counter- 
part in  Shakspeare  ;  they  belong  to  a  dif- 
ferent state  of  manners.  But  the  powers 
of  Moliere  are  directed  with  greater  skill 
to  their  object ;  none  of  his  energy  is 
wasted ;  the  spectator  is  not  interrupted 
by  the  serious  scenes  of  tragi-comedy, 
nor  his  attention  drawn  aside  by  poetical 
episodes.  Of  Shakspeare  we  may  justly 
say  that  he  had  the  greater  genius,  but 
perhaps  of  Moliere  that  he  has  written 
the  best  comedies.  We  cannot,  at  least, 
put  any  later  dramatist  in  competition 
with  him.  Fletcher  and  Jonson,Wycher- 
ley  and  Congreve,  Farquhar  and  Sheridan, 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


with  great  excellences  of  their  own,  fall 
short  of  his  merit  as  well  as  his  fame. 
Yet  in  humorous  conception,  our  admira- 
ble play,  the  Provoked  Husband,  the  best 
parts  of  which  are  due  to  Vanbrugh,  seems 
to  be  equal  to  anything  he  has  left.  His 
spirited  and  easy  versification  stands,  of 
course,  untouched  by  any  English  rivalry  ; 
we  may  have  been  wise  in  rejecting  verse 
from  ourstage,  but  we  have  certainly  given 
the  French  a  right  to  claim  all  the  honour 
that  belongs  to  it. 

32.  Racine  once  only  attempted  comedy. 
Les  Plaideurs  His  wit  was  quick  and  sarcastic, 
of  Racine.       and  in  epigram  he  did  not  spare 
his  enemies.    In  his   Plaideurs   there  is 
more  of  humour  and  stage-effect  than  of 
wit.     The  ridicule   falls   happily  on  the 
pedantry    of  lawyers    and   the    folly   of 
suiters  ;  but  the  technical  language  is  lost 
in  great  measure  upon  the  audience.    This 
comedy,  if  it  be  not  rather  a  farce,  is  taken 
from  The  Wasps   of  Aristophanes ;   and 
that  Rabelais  of  antiquity  supplied  an  ex- 
travagance, very   improbably  introduced 
into  the  third  act  of  Les  Plaideurs,  the 
trial  of  the  dog.     Far  from  improving  the 
humour,  which  had  been  amusingly  kept 
up  during  the  first  two  acts,  this  degener- 
ates into  nonsense. 

33.  Regnard  is  always  placed  next  to 
Regnard.    Moliere  among  the  comic  writers 
Le  Joueur.  of  France  in  this,  and  perhaps  in 
any  age.     The  plays,  indeed,  which  en- 
title him  to  such  a  rank,  are  but  few.     Of 
these  the  best  is  acknowledged  to  be  Le 
Joueur.     Regnard,  taught  b^  his  own  ex- 
perience, has  here   admirably  delineated 
the  character  of  an  inveterate  gamester ; 
without  parade  of  morality,  few  comedies 
are  more  usefully  moral.     We  have  not 
the  struggling  virtues  of  a  Charles  Surface, 
which  the  dramatist  may  feign  that  he 
may  reward  at  the  fifth  act ;  Regnard  has 
better  painted  the  selfish,  ungrateful  being, 
who,  though  not  incapable  of  love,  pawns 
his  mistress's  picture,  the  instant  after  she 
has  given  it  to  him,  that  he  may  return  to 
the  dicebox.     Her  just  abandonment  and 
his  own  disgrace  terminate  the  comedy 
with  a  moral  dignity  which  the  stage  does 
not  always  maintain,  and  which,  in  the 
first  acts,  the  spectator  does  not  expect. 
The  other  characters  seem  to  me  various, 
spirited,  and  humorous  ;  the  valet  of  Valere 
the  gamester  is  one  of  the  best  of  that 
numerous   class   to   whom   comedy  has 
owed  so  much;  but  the  pretended  marquis, 
though  diverting,  talks  too  much  like  a 
genuine  coxcomb  of  the  world.     Moliere 
did  this  better  in  Les  Precieuses  Ridicules. 
Regnard  is  in  this  play  full  of  those  gay 
sallies   which    cannot    be    read    without 


laughter ;  the  incidents  follow  rapidly ; 
there  is  more  movement  than  in  some  of 
the  best  of  Moliere's  comedies,  and  the 
speeches  are  not  so  prolix. 

34.  Next  to  Le  Joueur  among  Regnard's 
comedies  it  has  been  usual  to  place  uis  other 
Le  Legataire,  not  by  any  means  plays. 
inferior  to  the  first  in  humour  and  vivacity, 
but  with  less  force  of  character,  and  more 
of  the  common  tricks  of  the  stage.     The 
moral,  instead  of  being  excellent,  is  of  the 
worst  kind,  being  the  success  and  dramatic 
reward  of  a  gross  fraud,  the  forgery  of  a 
will  by  the  hero  of  the  piece  and  his  ser- 
vant.    This  servant  is,  however,  a  very 
comical  rogue,  and  we  should  not,  perhaps, 
wish  to  see  him  sent  to  the  galleys.     A 
similar  censure  might  be  passed  ou  the 
comedy  of  Regnard  which  stands  third  in 
reputation,  Les  Menechmes.    The  subject, 
as  explained   by  the  title,  is  old :   twin- 
brothers,  whose  undistinguishable  features 
are  the  source  of  endless  confusion ;  but, 
what  neither  Plautus  nor  Shakspeare  have 
thought  of,  one  avails  himself  of  the  like- 
ness to  receive  a  large  sum  of  money 
due   to  the   other,  and   is  thought  very 
generous  at  the  close  of  the  play  when  he 
restores  a  moiety.     Of  the  plays  founded 
on  this  diverting  exaggeration,  Regnard's 
is  perhaps  the  best ;  he  has  more  variety 
of  incident  than  Plautus ;  and,  by  leaving 
out  the  second  pair  of  twins,  the  Dromio 
servants,  which  renders  the  Comedy  of 
Errors  almost  too  inextricably  confused 
for  the  spectator  or  reader,  as  well  as  by 
making  one  of  the  brothers  aware  of  the 
mistake  and  a  party  in  the  deception,  he 
has  given  a  unity  of  plot  instead  of  a  series 
of  incoherent  blunders. 

35.  The  Mere  Coquette  of  Quinault  ap- 
pears a  comedy  of  great  merit.  Quinault. 
Without  the  fine  traits  of  nature  Boursauit. 
which  we  find  in  those  of  Moliere ;  without 
the  sallies  of  humour  which  enliven  those 
of  Regnard;  with  a  versification  perhaps 
not  very  forcible,  it  pleases  us  by  a  fable 
at  once  novel,  as  far  as  I  know,  and  natural, 
by  the  interesting  characters  of  the  lovers, 
by  the  decency  and  tone  of  good  company, 
which  are  never  lost  in  the  manners,  the 
incidents,   or   the    language.     Boursault, 
whose  tragedies  are  little  esteemed,  dis- 
played some   originality   in   Le  Mercure 
Galant.     The  idea  is  one  which  has  not 
unfrequently  been  imitated  on  the  English 
as  well  as  French  stage,  but  it  is  rather 
adapted  to  the  shorter  drama  than  to  a 
regular  comedy  of  five  acts.   The  Mercure 
Galant  was  a  famous  magazine  of  light 
periodical  amusement,  such  as  was  then 
new  in  France,  which  had  a  great  sale, 
and  is  described  in  a  few  lines  by  one  of 


FROM  1650  TO  1700. 


393 


Dancourr. 


the  characters  in  this  piece.*  Boursault 
places  his  hero,  by  the  editor's  consent, 
as  a  temporary  substitute  in  the  office  of 
this  publication,  and  brings,  in  a  series  of 
detached  scenes,  a  variety  of  applicants 
for  his  notice.  A  comedy  of  this  kind  is 
like  a  compound  animal  ;  a  few  chief  char- 
acters must  give  unity  to  the  whole,  but 
the  effect  is  produced  by  the  successive 
personages  \vho  pass  over  the  stage,  dis- 
play their  humour  in  a  single  scene,  and 
disappear.  Boursault  has  been  in  some 
instances  successful  ;  but  such  pieces  gen- 
erally owe  too  much  to  temporary  sources 
of  amusement. 

36.  Dancourt,  as  Voltaire  has  said,  holds 

f.h°  sa™  ™nk  relatively  to  Mo- 
here  in  farce  that  Regnard  does 
in  the  higher  comedy.  He  came  a  little 
after  the  former,  and  when  the  prejudice 
that  had  been  created  against  comedies  in 
prose  by  the  great  success  of  the  other 
kind  had  begun  to  subside.  The  Chevalier 
a  la  Mode  is  the  only  play  of  Dancourt 
that  I  know  ;  it  is  much  above  farce,  and, 
if  length  be  a  distinctive  criterion,  it  ex- 
ceeds most  comedies.  This  would  be  very 
slight  praise  if  we  could  not  add  that  the 
reader  does  not  find  it  one  page  too  long  ; 
that  the  ridicule  is  poignant  and  happy, 
the  incidents  well  contrived,  the  comic 
situations  amusing,  the  characters  clearly 
marked.  La  Harpe,  who  treats  Dancourt 
with  a  sort  of  contempt,  does  not  so  much 
as  mention  this  play.  It  is  a  satire  on  the 
pretensions  of  a  class  then  rising,  the  rich 
financiers,  which  long  supplied  materials, 
through  dramatic  caricature,  to  public 
malignity,  and  the  envy  of  a  less  opulent 
aristocracy. 

37.  The  life  of  Brueys  is  rather  singu- 
lar.   Born  of  a  noble  Huguenot  fam- 

8'  ily,  he  was  early  devoted  to  Prot- 
estant theology,  and  even  presumed  to 
enter  the  lists  against  Bossuet.  But  that 
champion  of  the  faith  was  like  one  of  those 
knights  in  romance,  who  first  unhorse 
their  rash  antagonists,  and  then  make 
them  work  as  slaves.  Brueys  was  soon 
converted,  and  betook  himself  to  write 
against  his  former  errors.  He  afterward 
became  an  ecclesiastic.  Thus  far  there 
is  nothing  much  out  of  the  common  course 
in  his  history.  But,  grown  weary  of  liv- 


*  Le  Mercnre  est  une  bonne  chose : 

On  y  trouve  de  tout,  fable,  histoire,  vers,  prose, 
Sieges,  combats,  proces,  mort,  mariage,  amour, 
Nouvelles  de  province,  et  nouvelles  de  cour — 
Jamais  livre  a  mon  gre  ne  fut  plus  necessairo. 

Act  i ,  scene  2. 

The  Mercure  Galant  was  established  in  1672  by 
one  Vise  ;  it  was  intended  to  fill  the  same  place  as 
a  critical  record  of  polite  literature,  which  the  Jour- 
nal des  S^avans  did  m  learning  and  science. 
VOL.  II.— 3  D 


ing  alone,  and  having  some  natural  turn  to 
comedy,  he  began,  rather  late,  to  write  for 
the  stage,  with  the  assistance,  or,  perhaps, 
only  under  the  name  of  a  certain  Paraprat. 
The  plays  of  Brueys  had  some  success ; 
but  he  was  not  in  a  position  to  delineate 
recent  manners,  and  in  the  only  comedy 
with  which  I  am  acquainted,  Le  Muet,  he 
has  borrowed  the  leading  part  of  his  story 
from  Terence.  The  language  seems  defi- 
cient in  vivacity,  which,  when  there  is  no 
great  naturalness  or  originality  of  charac- 
ter, cannot  be  dispensed  with. 

38.  The  French  opera,  after  some  inef- 
fectual attempts  by  Mazarin  to  nat-  operas  or 
uralize  an  Italian  company,  was  Uumauit. 
successfully  established  by  Lulli  in  1672. 
It  is  the  prerogative  of  music  in  the  melo- 
drama to  render  poetry  its  dependant  al- 
ly ;  but  the  airs  of  Lulli  have  been  forgot- 
ten, and  the  verses  of  his  coadjutor  Qui- 
nault  remain.  He  is  not  only  the  earliest, 
but,  by  general  consent,  the  unrivalled  poet 
of  French  music.  Boileau,  indeed,  treated 
him  with  undeserved  scorn,  but  probably 
through  dislike  of  the  tone  he  was  obliged 
to  preserve,  which,  in  the  eyes  of  so  stern 
a  judge,  and  one  so  insensible  to  love,  ap- 
peared languid  and  effeminate.  Quinault, 
nevertheless,  was  not  incapable  of  vigor- 
ous and  impressive  poetry  ;  a  lyric  gran- 
deur distinguishes  some  of  his  songs ;  he 
seems  to  possess  great  felicity  of  adorning 
every  subject  with  appropriate  imagery 
and  sentiment ;  his  versification  has  a 
smoothness  and  charm  of  melody  which 
has  made  some  say  that  the  lines  were  al- 
ready music  before  they  came  to  the  com- 
poser's hands ;  his  fables,  whether  taken 
from  mythology  or  modern  romance,  dis- 
play invention  and  skill.  Voltaire,  La 
Harpe,  Schlegel,  and  the  author  of  the  life 
of  Quinault  in  the  Biographie  Universelle, 
but,  most  of  all,  the  testimony  of  the  pub- 
lic, have  compensated  for  the  severity  of 
Boileau.  The  Armide  is  Quinault's  latest 
and  also  his  finest  opera. 


SECT.  II.   ON  THE  ENGLISH  DRAMA. 

State  of  the  Stage  after  the  Restoration.— Trage- 
dies of  Dryden,  Otway,  Southern. — Comedies  of 
Congreve  and  others. 

39.  THE  troubles  of  twenty  years,  and, 
much  more,  the  fanatical  antipa-  ReTivaj  of 
thy  to  stage-plays  which  the  pre-  ihe  Kngiish 
dominant  party  affected,  silenced  tht!atre- 
the  muse  of  the  buskin,  and  broke  the 
continuity  of  those  works  of  the  elder 
dramatists,  which  had  given  a  tone  to  pub- 
lic sentiment  as  to  the  drama  from  the 
middle  of  Elizabeth's  reign.  Davenant 


394 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


had,  by  a  sort  of  connivance,  opened  < 
small  house  fort-he  representation  of  plays 
though  not  avowedly  so  called,  near  the 
Charter  House  in  1656.  He  obtained  a 
patent  after  the  Restoration.  By  this  time 
another  generation  had  arisen,  and  the 
scale  of  taste  was  to  be  adjusted  anew. 
The  fondness  for  the  theatre  revived  with 
increased  avidity  ;  more  splendid  decora- 
tion, actors  probably,  especially  Betterton, 
of  greater  powers,  and,  above  all,  the  at- 
traction of  female  performers,  who  had 
never  been  admitted  on  the  older  stage, 
conspired  with  the  keen  appetite  that  long 
restraint  produced,  and  with  the  general 
gayety,  or,  rather,  dissoluteness  of  man- 
ners. Yet  the  multitude  of  places  for 
such  amusement  was  not  as  great  as  under 
the  first  Stuarts.  Two  houses  only  were 
opened  by  royal  patents,  granting  them  an 
exclusive  privilege,  one  by  what  was  call- 
ed the  King's  Company,  in  Drury  Lane, 
another  by  the  Duke  of  York's  Company, 
in  Lincoln's  Inn  Fields.  Betterton,  who 
was  called  the  English  Roscius,  till  Gar- 
rick  claimed  the  title,  was  sent  to  Paris 
by  Charles  II.,  that,  taking  a  view  of  the 
French  stage,  he  might  better  judge  of 
what  would  contribute  to  the  improvement 
of  our  own.  It  has  been  said,  and  proba- 
bly with  truth,  that  he  introduced  movea- 
ble  scenes  instead  of  the  fixed  tapestry 
that  had  been  hung  across  the  stage  ;  but 
this  improvement  he  could  not  have  bor- 
rowed from  France.  The  king  not  only 
countenanced  the  theatre  by  his  patron- 
age, but  by  so  much  personal  notice  of  the 
chief  actors,  and  so  much  interest  in  all 
the  affairs  of  the  theatre  as  elevated  their 
condition. 

40.  An  actor  of  great  talents  is  the  best 
Change  of  friend  of  the  great  dramatists  ; 
public  taste,  his  own  genius  demands  theirs 
for  its  support  and  display ;  and  a  fine 
performer  would  as  soon  waste  the  powers 
of  his  hand  on  feeble  music,  as  a  man  like 
Betterton  or  Garrick  represent  what  is  in- 
sipid or  in  bad  taste.  We  know  that  the 
former,  and  some  of  his  contemporaries, 
were  celebrated  in  the  great  parts  of  our 
early  stage,  in  those  of  Shakspeare  and 
Fletcher.  But  the  change  of  public  taste 
is  sometimes  irresistible  by  those  who, 
as,  in  Johnson's  antithesis,  they  "  live  to 
please,  must  please  to  live."  Neither  tra- 
gedy nor  comedy  was  maintained  at  its 
proper  level ;  and,  as  the  world  is  apt  to 
demand  novelty  on  the  stage,  the  general 
tone  of  dramatic  representation  in  this  pe- 
riod, whatever  credit  it  may  have  done  to 
the  performers,  reflects  little,  in  compari- 
son with  our  golden  age,  upon  those  who 
wrote  for  them. 


41.  It  is  observed  by  Scott,  that  the 
French  theatre,  which  was  now  Im  cauge, 
thought  to  be  in  perfection,  guided 
the  criticisms  of  Charles's  court,  and  af- 
forded the  pattern  of  those  tragedies  which 
continued  in  fashion  for  twenty  years  af- 
ter the  Restoration,  and  which  were  called 
rhyming  or  heroic  plays.  Though  there 
is  a  general  justice  in  this  remark,  1  arn 
not  aware  that  the  inflated' tone  of  these 
plays  is  imitated  from  any  French  tragedy ; 
certainly  there  was  a  nobler  model  in  the 
best  works  of  Corneille.  But  Scott  is 
more  right  in  deriving  the  unnatural  and 
pedantic  dialogue  which  prevailed  through 
these  performances  from  the  romances  of 
Scudery  and  Calprenede.  These  were, 
about  the  era  of  the  Restoration,  almost 
as  popular  among  the  indolent  gentry  as 
in  France ;  and  it  was  to  be  expected  that 
a  style  would  gain  ground  in  tragedy, 
which  is  not  so  widely  removed  from  what 
tragedy  requires,  but  that  an  ordinary  au- 
dience would  fail  to  perceive  the  differ- 
ence. There  is  but  a  narrow  line  be- 
tween the  sublime  and  the  tumid  ;  the  man 
of  business  or  of  pleasure  who  frequents 
the  theatre  must  have  accustomed  himself 
to  make  such  large  allowances,  to  put  him- 
self into  a  state  of  mind  so  totally  differ- 
ent from  his  every-day  habits,  that,  a  little 
extraordinary  deviation  from  nature,  far 
from  shocking  him,  will  rather  show  like 
a  farther  advance  towards  excellence. 
Hotspur  and  Almanzor,  Richard  and  Au- 
rungzebe,  seem  cast  in  the  same  mould ; 
beings  who  can  never  occur  in  the  com- 
mon walks  of  life,  but  whom  the  trage- 
dian has,  by  a  tacit  convention  with  the 
audience,  acquired\  right  of  feigning  like 
his  ghosts  and  witches. 

42.  The  first  tragedies  of  Dryden  were 
what  was  called  heroic,  and  writ-  Heroic 
ten  in  rhyme ;  an  innovation  tragedies 
which,  of  course,  must  be  as-  ofDryden- 
scribed  to  the  influence  of  the  French 
theatre.  They  have  occasionally  much 
vigour  of  sentiment  and  much  beautiful 
poetry,  with  a  versification  sweet  even  to 
lusciousness.  The  "  Conquest  of  Grena- 
da" is,  on  account  of  its  extravagance,  the 
most  celebrated  of  these  plays ;  but  it  is 
inferior  to  the  "  Indian  Emperor,"  from 
which  it  would  be  easy  to  select  passages 
of  perfect  elegance.  It  is  singular  that, 
although  the  rhythm  of  dramatic  verse  is 
commonly  permitted  to  be  the  most  lax 
of  any,  Dryden  has  in  this  play  availed 
himself  of  none  of  his  wonted  privileges. 
He  regularly  closes  the  sense  with  the 
ouplet,  and  falls  into  a  smoothness  of  ca 
dence  which,  though  exquisitely  melliflu- 
ous, is  perhaps  too  uniform.  In  the  Con- 


FROM  1650  TO  1700. 


395 


quest  of  Grenada  the  versification  is  rather 
more  broken. 

43.    Dry  den   may  probably  have  been 
His  later   fond  of  this  species  of  tragedy,  on 
traged.es.  account  of  his   own    facility  in 
rhyming,  and  his  habit  of  condensing  his 
sense.     Rhyme,  indeed,  can  only  be  re- 
jected in  our  language   from  the   tragic 
scene,  because  blank  verse  affords  wider 
scope  for  the  emotions  it  ought  to  excite  ; 
but  for  the  tumid  rhapsodies  which  the 
personages  of  his  heroic  plays  utter  there 
can  be  no  excuse.     He  adhered  to  this 
tone,  however,  till  the  change  in  public 
taste,  and  especially  the  ridicule  thrown 
on  his  own  plays  by  the  Rehearsal,  drove 
him  to  adopt  a  very  different,  though  not 
altogether  faultless  style  of  tragedy.     His 
principal   works  of  this  latter  class  are 
"  All  for  Love,"  in  1678,  the  Spanish  Friar, 
commonly  referred  to  1682,  and  Don  Se- 
bastian, in  1690.     Upon  these  the  dramatic 
fame  of  Dryden  is  built ;  while  the  rants 
of  Almanzor  and  Maximin  are  never  men- 
tioned but  in  ridicule.     The  chief  excel- 
lence of  the  first  appears  to  consist  in  the 
beauty  of  the  language,  that  of  the  second 
in  the  interest  of  the  story,  and  that  of  the 
third  in  the  highly-finished  character  of 
Dorax.     Dorax  is  the  best  ol  Dryden's  tra- 
gic characters,  and  perhaps  the  only  one 
in  which  he  has  applied  his  great  knowl- 
edge of  the  human  rnind  to  actual  delinea- 
tion.    It  is  highly  dramatic,  because  form- 
ed of  those  complex  passions  which  may 
readily  lead  either  to  virtue  or  to  vice,  and 
which  the  poet  can  manage  so  as  to  sur- 
prise the  spectator  without  transgressing 


ery,  which  is  so  much  dwelt  upon  by  the 
critics ;  nor  can  the  story  of  CEdipus,  which 
has  furnished  one  of  the  finest  and  most 
artful  tragedies  ever  written,  be  well 
thought  an  improper  subject  even  for  rep- 
resentation. But  they  require,  of  all  oth- 
ers, to  be  dexterously  managed  ;  they  may 
make  the  main  distress  of  a  tragedy,  but 
not  an- episode  in  it.  Our  feelings  revolt 
at  seeing,  as  in  Don  Sebastian,  an  incestu- 
ous passion  brought  forward  as  the  make- 
weight of  a  plot,  to  eke  out  a  fifth  act,  and 
to  dispose  of  those  characters  whose  for- 
tune the  main  story  has  not  quite  wound 
up. 


consistency.  The  Zanga  of  Young,  a  part 
of  some  theatrical  effect,  has  been  com- 
pounded of  this  character  and  of  that  of 
Von  sei>as-  lago.  But  Don  Sebastian  is  as 
tian.  imperfect  as  all  plays  must  be 

in  which  a  single  personage  is  thrown  for- 
ward in  too  strong  relief  for  the  rest.  The 
language  is  full  of  that  rant  which  charac- 
terized Dryden's  earlier  tragedies,  and  to 
which  a  natural  predilection  seems,  after 
some  interval,  to  have  brought  him  back. 
Sebastian  himself  may  seem  to  have  been 
intended  as  a  contrast  to  Muley  Moloch ; 
but,  if  the  author  had  any  rule  to  distin- 
guish the  blustering  of  the  hero  from  that 
of  the  tyrant,  he  has  not  left  the  use  of  it 
in  his  reader's  hands.  The  plot  of  this 
tragedy  is  ill  conducted,  especially  in  the 
fifth  act.  Perhaps  the  delicacy  of  the 
present  age  may  have  been  too  fastidious 
in  excluding  altogether  from  the  drama 
this  class  of  stories,  because  they  may 
often  excite  great  interest,  give  scope  to 
impassioned  poetry,  and  are  admirably 
calculated  for  the  avayvupimc,  or  discov- 


44.  The  Spanish  Friar  has  been  praised 
for  what  Johnson  calls  the  "  happy  Spanish 
coincidence  and  coalition  of  the  v^**- 
two  plots."  It  is  difficult  to  understand 
what  can  be  meant  by  a  compliment  which 
seems  either  ironical  or  ignorant.  No- 
thing can  be  more  remote  from  the  truth. 
The  artifice  of  combining  two  distinct  sto- 
ries on  the  stage  is,  we  may  suppose,  ei- 
ther to  interweave  the  incidents  of  one 
into  those  of  the  other,  or,  at  least,  so  to 
connect  some  characters  with  each  in- 
trigue as  to  make  the  spectator  fancy 
them  less  distinct  than  they  are.  Thus, 
in  the  Merchant  of  Venice,  the  courtship 
of  Bassanio  and  Portia  is  happily  connect- 
ed with  the  main  plot  of  Antonio  and  Shy- 
lock  by  two  circumstances;  it  is  to  set 
Bassanio  forward  in  his  suit  that  the  fatal 
bond  is  first  given ;  and  it  is  by  Portia's 
address  that  its  forfeiture  is  explained 
away.  The  same  play  affords  an  instance 
of  another  kind  of  underplot,  that  of  Lo- 
renzo and  Jessica,  which  is  more  episodi- 


cal, and  might,  perhaps,  be  removed  with- 
out any  material  loss  to  the  fable  ;  though 
even  this  serves  to  account  for,  we  do  not 
say  to  palliate,  the  vindictive  exasperation 
of  the  Jew.  But  to  which  of  these  do  the 
comic  scenes  in  the  Spanish  Friar  bear 
most  resemblance  ]  Certainly  to  the  lat- 
ter. They  consist  entirely  of  an  intrigue 
which  Lorenzo,  a  young  officer,  carries  on 
with  a  rich  usurer's  wife  ;  but  there  is  not, 
even  by  accident,  any  relation  between 
his  adventures  and  the  love  and  murder 
which  go  forward  in  the  palace.  The 
Spanish  Friar,  so  far  as  it  is  a  comedy,  is 
reckoned  the  best  performance  of  Dry- 
den  in  that  line.  Father  Dominic  is  very 
amusing,  and  has  been  copied  very  freely 
by  succeeding  dramatists,  especially  in  the 
Duenna.  But  Dryden  has  no  great  abun- 
dance of  wit  in  this  or  any  of  his  comedies. 
His  jests  are  practical,  and  he  seems  to 
have  written  more  for  the  eye  than  the 
ear.  It  may  he  noted,  as  a  proof  of  this, 
that  his  stage  directions  are  unusually  full. 


396 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


In  point  of  diction,  the  Spanish  Friar  in 
its  tragic  scenes,  and  All  for  Love,  are 
certainly  the  best  plays  of  Dryden.  They 
are  the  least  infected  with  his  great  fault, 
bombast,  and  should,  indeed,  be  read  over 
and  over  by  those  who  would  learn  the 
true  tone  of  English  tragedy.  In  dignity, 
in  animation,  in  striking  images  and  fig- 
ures, there  are  few  or  none  that  excel 
them ;  the  power,  indeed,  of  impressing 
sympathy  or  commanding  tears  was  sel- 
dom placed  by  Nature  within  the  reach  of 
Dryden. 

45.  The  Orphan  of  Otway,  and  his  Ven- 
otway   *ce   Preserved,    will   generally   be 

reckoned  the  best  tragedies  of  this 
period.  They  have  both  a  deep  pathos, 
springing  from  the  intense  and  unmerited 
distress  of  women ;  both,  especially  the 
latter,  have  a  dramatic  eloquence,  rapid 
and  flowing,  with  less  of  turgid  extrava- 
gance than  we  find  in  Otway's  contempo- 
raries, and  sometimes  with  very  graceful 
poetry.  The  story  of  the  Orphan  is  do- 
mestic, and  evidently  borrowed  from  some 
French  novel,  though  I  do  not  at  present 
remember  where  I  have  read  it ;  it  was 
once  popular  on  the  stage,  and  gave  scope 
for  good  acting,  but  is  unpleasing  to  the 
delicacy  of  our  own  age.  Venice  Pre- 
served is  more  frequently  represented 
than  any  tragedy  after  those  of  Shaks- 
peare  ;  the  plot  is  highly  dramatic  in  con- 
ception and  conduct ;  even  what  seems, 
when  we  read  it,  a  defect,  the  shifting  of 
our  wishes,  or  perhaps,  rather,  of  our  ill 
wishes,  between  two  parties,  the  senate 
and  the  conspirators,  who  are  redeemed 
by  no  virtue,  does  not,  as  is  shown  by  ex- 
perience, interfere  with  the  spectator's  in- 
terest. Pierre,  indeed,  is  one  of  those  vil- 
lains for  whom  it  is  easy  to  excite  the 
sympathy  of  the  half-principled  and  the 
inconsiderate.  But  the  great  attraction  is 
in  the  character  of  Belvidera ;  and  when 
that  part  is  represented  by  such  as  we  re- 
member to  have  seen,  no  tragedy  is  hon- 
oured by  such  a  tribute,  not  of  tears  alone, 
but  of  more  agony  than  many  would  seek 
to  endure.  The  versification  of  Otway, 
like  that  of  most  in  this  period,  runs  al- 
most to  an  excess  into  the  line  of  eleven 
syllables,  sometimes  also  into  the  sdruc- 
ciolo  form,  or  twelve  syllables  with  a  dac- 
tylic close.  These  give  a  considerable  an- 
imation to  tragic  verse. 

46.  Southern's  Fatal  Discovery,  latterly 

represented  by  the  name  of  Isa- 

Souihern.   ,    r       .       .         •>          .       . 

bella,  is  almost  as  familiar  to  the 
lovers  of  our  theatre  as  Venice  Preserved 
itself;  and  for  the  same  reason,  that  when- 
ever an  actress  of  great  tragic  powers 
arises,  the  part  of  Isabella  is  as  fitted  to 


exhibit  them  as  that  of  Belvidera.  The 
choice  and  conduct  of  the  story  are,  how- 
ever, Southern's  chief  merits ;  for  there  is 
little  vigour  in  the  language,  though  it  is 
natural  and  free  from  the  usual  faults  of 
his  age.  A  similar  character  may  be  giv 
en  to  his  other  tragedy,  Oroonoko ;  in 
which  Southern  deserves  the  praise  of 
having,  first  of  any  English  writer,  de 
nounced  the  traffic  in  slaves,  and  the  cruel 
ties  of  their  West  Indian  bondage.  The 
moral  feeling  is  high  in  this  tragedy ;  and 
it  has  sometimes  been  acted  with  a  cer- 
tain success  ;  but  the  execution  is  not  that 
of  a  superior  dramatist.  Of  Lee  no- 
thing need  be  said,  but  that  he  is,  in 
spite  of  his  proverbial  extravagance,  a  man 
of  poetical  mind  and  some  dramatic  skill. 
But  he  has  violated  historic  truth  in  The- 
odosius  without  gaining  much  by  inven- 
tion. The  Mourning  Bride  of  Con-  Congrev& 
greve  is  written  in  prolix  declama- 
tion, with  no  power  over  the  passions. 
Johnson  is  well  known  to  have  praised  a 
few  lines  in  this  tragedy  as  among  the 
finest  descriptions  in  the  language  ;  while 
others,  by  a  sort  of  contrariety,  have  spo- 
ken of  them  as  worth  nothing.  Truth  is 
in  its  usual  middle  path;  many  better  pas- 
sages may  be  found,  but  they  are  well 
written  and  impressive.* 

47.  In  the  early  English  comedy  we 
find  a  large  intermixture  of  ob-  comedies  of 
scenity  in  the  lower  characters,  Charles  ii.'s 
nor  always  confined  to  them,  reign' 
with  no  infrequent  scenes  of  licentious  in- 
cident and  language.  But  these  are  inva- 
riably so  brought  forward  as  to  manifest 
the  dramatist's  scorn  of  vice,  and  to  excite 
no  other  sentiment  in  a  spectator  of  even 
an  ordinary  degree  of  moral  purity.  In 
the  plays  that  appeared  after  the  Resto- 
ration, and  that  from  the  beginning,  a  dif- 
ferent tone  was  assumed.  Vice  was  in 
her  full  career  on  the  stage,  unchecked  by 
reproof,  unshamed  by  contrast,  and  for  the 
most  part  unpunished  by  mortification  at 
the  close.  Nor  are  these  less  coarse  in 
expression,  or  less  impudent  in  their  de- 
lineation of  low  debauchery,  than  those  of 
the  preceding  period.  It  may  be  observ- 
ed, on  the  contrary,  that  they  rarely  ex- 
hibit the  manners  of  truly  polished  life, 
according  to  any  notions  we  can  frame  of 
them,  and  are,  in  this  respect,  much  below 
those  of  Fletcher.  Massinger,  and  Shirley. 
It  might  not  be  easy,  perhaps,  to  find  a 
scene  in  any  comedy  of  Charles  II. 's 
reign  where  one  character  has  the  beha- 
viour of  a  gentleman,  in  the  sense  we  at- 


*  Mourning  Bride,  Act  ii.,  scene  3.    Johnson's 
Life  of  Congreve. 


FROM  1650  TO  1700. 


397 


,«ch  to  the  word.  Yet  the  authors  of 
.hese  were  themselves  in  the  world,  and 
sometimes  men  of  family  and  considera- 
ble station.  The  cause  must  be  found  in 
the  state  of  society  itself,  debased  as  well 
as  corrupted,  partly  by  the  example  of  the 
court,  partly  by  the  practice  of  living  in 
taverns,  which  became  much  more  invet- 
erate after  the  Restoration  than  before. 
The  contrast  with  the  manners  of  Paris, 
as  far  as  the  stage  is  their  mirror,  does 
not  tell  to  our  advantage.  These  plays, 
as  it  may  be  expected,  do  not  aim  at  the 
higher  glories  of  comic  writing ;  they  dis- 
play no  knowledge  of  nature,  nor  often 
rise  to  any  other  conception  of  character 
than  is  gained  by  a  caricature  of  some 
known  class,  or  perhaps  of  some  remark- 
able individual.  Nor  do  they,  in  general, 
deserve  much  credit  as  comedies  of  in- 
trigue ;  the  plot  is  seldom  invented  with 
much  care  for  its  development ;  and  if 
scenes  follow  one  another  in  a  series  of 
diverting  incidents ;  if  the  entanglements 
are  such  as  produce  laughter;  above  all,  if 
the  personages  keep  up  a  well-sustained 
battle  of  repartee,  the  purpose  is  sufficient- 
ly answered.  It  is  in  this  that  they  often 
excel ;  some  of  them  have  considerable 
humour  in  the  representation  of  character, 
though  this  may  not  be  very  original,  and 
a  good  deal  of  wit  in  their  dialogue. 

48.  Wycherley  is  remembered  for  two 
w  Theriey   comedies,  the  Plain  Dealer  and 

the  Country  Wife,  the  latter  rep- 
resented with  some  change,  in  modern 
times,  under  the  name  of  the  Country  Girl. 
The  former  has  been  frequently  said  to  be 
taken  from  the  Misanthrope  of  Moliere  ; 
but  this,  like  many  current  assertions, 
seems  to  have  little,  if  any,  foundation. 
Manly,  the  Plain  Dealer,  is,  like  Aleeste,  a 
speaker  of  truth  :  but  the  idea  is  at  least 
one  which  it  was  easy  to  conceive  without 
plagiarism,  and  there  is  not  the  slightest 
resemblance  in  any  circumstance  or  scene 
of  the  two  comedies.  We  cannot  say  the 
same  of  the  Country  Wife  ;  it  was  evi- 
dently suggested  by  L'Ecole  des  Fcmmes  ; 
the  character  of  Arnolphe  has  been  cop- 
ied ;  but  even  here  the  whole  conduct  of 
the  piece  of  Wycherley  is  his  own.  It 
is  more  artificial  than  that  of  Moliere, 
wherein  too  much  passes  in  description ; 
the  part  of  Agnes  is  rendered  still  more 
poignant;  and,  among  the  comedies  of 
Charles's  reign,  I  am  not  sure  that  it  is 
surpassed  by  any. 

49.  Shadwell  and  Etherege,  and  the  fa- 
improvement  mous  Afra  Behn,  have  endeav- 
artertheRev-  cured  to   make   the   stage   as 
oiution.         Crossly  immoral  as  their  tal- 
ents permitted;  but  the  two  former  are 


not  destitute  of  humour.  At  the  death  of 
Charles  it  had  reached  the  lowest  point; 
after  the  Revolution  it  became  not  much 
more  a  school  of  virtue,  but  rather  a  bet- 
ter one  of  polished  manners  than  before ; 
and  certainly  drew  to  its  service  some 
men  of  comic  genius,  whose  names  are 
now  not  only  very  familiar  to  our  ears, 
as  the  boasts  of  our  (theatre,  but  whose 
works  have  not  all  ceased  to  enliven  its 
walls. 

50.  Congreve,  by  the  Old  Bachelor,  writ 
ten,  as  some  have  said,  at  twenty-  ,. 

/•  i     .    •      f  J .    Conereve 

one  years  of  age,  but,  in  fact,  not 
quite  so  soon,  and  represented  in  1693, 
placed  himself  at  once  in  a  rank  which 
he  has  always  retained.  Though  not,  I 
think,  the  first,  he  is  undeniably  among 
the  first  names.  The  Old  Bachelor  was 
quickly  followed  by  the  Double  Dealer, 
and  that  by  Love  for  Love,  in  which  he 
reached  the  summit  of  his  reputation.  The 
last,  of  his  four  comedies,  the  Way  of  the 
World,  is  said  to  have  been  coldly  received ; 
for  which  it  is  hard  to  assign  any  sub- 
stantial cause,  unless  it  be  some  want  of 
sequence  in  the  plot.  The  peculiar  excel- 
lence of  Congreve  is  his  wit,  incessantly 
sparkling  from  the  lips  of  almost  every 
character,  but  on  this  account  it  is  accom- 
panied by  want  of  nature  and  simplicity. 
Nature,  indeed,  and  simplicity  do  not  be- 
long, as  proper  attributes,  to  that  comedy 
which,  itself  the  creature  of  an  artificial 
society,  has  for  its  proper  business  to  ex- 
aggerate the  affection  and  hollowncss  of 
the  world.  A  critical  code,  which  should 
require  the  comedy  of  polite  life  to  be  nat- 
ural, would  make  it  intolerable.  But 
there  are  limits  of  deviation  from  likeness 
which  even  caricature  must  not  trans- 
gress ;  and  the  type  of  truth  should  always 
regulate  the  playful  aberrations  of  an  in- 
ventive pencil.  The  manners  of  Con- 
greve's  comedies  are  not,  to  us  at  least, 
like  those  of  reality ;  I  am  pot  sure  that 
we  have  any  cause  to  suppose  that  they 
much  better  represent  the  times  in  which 
they  appeared.  His  characters,  with  an 
exception  or  two,  are  heartless  and  vi- 
cious ;  which,  on  being  attacked  by  Col- 
lier, he  justified,  probably  by  an  after- 
thought, on  the  authority  of  Aristotle's 
definition  of  comedy  ;  that  it  is  p/wif 
^at^orepuv,  an  imitation  of  what  is  the 
worse  in  human  nature.*  But  it  must  be 
acknowledged  that,  more  than  any  pre- 
ceding writer  among  us,  he  kept  up  the 
tone  of  a  gentleman  ;  his  men  of  the  world 
are  profligate,  but  not  coarse ;  he  rarely, 


*  Congreve's  Amendments  of  Mr.  Collier's  false 
citations. 


393 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


like  Shadwell,  or  even  Dryden,  caters  for 
the  populace  of  the  theatre  by  such  inde- 
cencies as  they  must  understand ;  he  gave, 
in  fact,  a  tone  of  refinement  to  the  public 
taste,  which  it  never  lost,  and  which,  in 
its  progression,  lias  banished  his  own 
comedies  from  the  stage. 

51.  Love  Tor  Love  is  generally  reputed 
Love  for  the  best  of  these.     Congreve  has 
Love,      never  any  great  success  in  the  con- 
ception or  management  of  his  plot ;  but  in 
this  comedy  there  is  least  to  censure  ;  sev- 
eral of  the  characters  are  exceedingly  hu- 
morous; the  incidents  are  numerous  and 
not.  complex ;  the  wit  is  often  admirable. 
Angelica  and  Miss  Prue,  Ben  and  Tattle, 
have  been  repeatedly  imitated ;  but  they 
have,  I  think,  a  considerable  degree  of  dra- 
matic originality  in  themselves.     Johnson 
has  observed  that  Ben  the  sailor  is  not 
reckoned  over  natural,  but  he  is  very  di- 
verting.    Possibly  he  may  be  quite  as  nat- 
ural a  portrait  of  a  mere  sailor  as  that  to 
which  we  have  become  used  in  modern 
comedy. 

52.  The  Way  of  the  World  I  should  per- 
iiis  other  haps  incline  to  place  next  to  this  ; 
jometiies.  tne  coquetry   of  Millamant,  not 
without  some  touches  of  delicacy  and  af- 
fection, the  impertinent  coxcombry  of  Pet- 
ulant and  Witwood,  the  mixture  of  wit  and 
ridiculous  vanity  in  Lady  Wishfort,  are 
amusing  to  the  reader.      Congreve   has 
here  made  more  use  than,  as  far  as  I  re- 
member, had  been  common  in  England,  of 
the  all-important  soubrette,  on  whom  so 
much  depends  in  French  comedy.     The 
manners  of  France  happily  enabled  her 
dramatists  to  improve  what  they  had  bor- 
rowed with  signal  success  from  the  ancient 
stage,  the  witty  and  artful  servant,  faith- 
ful to  his  master  while  he  deceives  every 
one  besides,  by  adding  this  female  attend- 
ant, not  less  versed  in  every  artifice,  nor 
less  quick  in  repartee.     Mincing  and  Foi- 
ble, in  this  play  of  Congreve,  are  good 
specimens  of  the  class ;  but,  speaking  with 
some  hesitation,  I  do  not  think  they  will 
be  found,  at  least  not  so  naturally  drawn, 
in  the  comedies  of  Charles's  time.     Many 
would,  perhaps  not  without  cause,  prefer 
the  Old  Bachelor ;  which  abounds  with 
wit,  but  seems  rather  deficient  in  original- 
ity of  character  and  circumstance.     The 
Double   Dealer   is   entitled  to  the  same 
praise  of  wit,  and  some  of  the  characters, 
though  rather  exaggerated,  are  amusing ; 
but  the  plot  is  so  entangled  towards  the 


conclusion,  that  I  have  found  it  difficult, 
even  in  reading,  to  comprehend  it. 

53.  Congreve  is  not  superior  to  Farqu- 
har  and  Vanbrugh,  if  we  might  Farquhar. 
compare  the  wholeof  theirworks.  vantmigh. 
Never  has  he  equalled  in  vivacity,  in  ori- 
ginality of  contrivance,  or  in  clear  and 
rapid  development  of  intrigue,  the  Beau's 
Stratagem  of  the  one,  and,  much  less,  the 
admirable  delineation  of  the  Wronghead 
family  in  the  Provoked  Husband  of  the 
other.  But  these  were  of  the  eighteenth 
century.  Farquhar's  Trip  to  the  Jubilee, 
though  once  a  popular  comedy,  is  not  dis- 
tinguished by  more  than  an  easy  flow  of 
wit,  and  perhaps  a  little  novelty  in  some 
of  the  characters ;  it  is,  indeed,  written 
in  much  superior  language  to  the  plays 
anterior  to  the  Revolution.  But  the  Re- 
lapse and  the  Provoked  Wife  of  Van- 
brugh have  attained  a  considerable  repu- 
tation. In  the  former  the  character  of 
Amanda  is  interesting,  especially  in  the 
momentary  wavering  and  quick  recovery 
of  her  virtue.  This  is  the  first  homage 
that  the  theatre  had  paid,  since  the  Resto- 
ration, to  female  chastity ;  and,  notwith- 
standing the  vicious  tone  of  the  other 
characters,  in  which  Vanbrugh  has  gone 
as  great  lengths  as  any  of  his  contempo- 
raries, we  perceive  the  beginnings  of  a 
reaction  in  public  spirit,  which  gradually 
reformed  and  elevated  the  moral  standard 
of  the  stage.*  The  Provoked  Wife,  though 
it  cannot  be  said  to  give  any  proofs  of  this 
sort  of  improvement,  has  some  merit  as  a 
comedy ;  it  is  witty  and  animated,  as  Van- 
brugh usually  was ;  the  character  of  Sir 
John  Brute  may  not  have  been  too  great  a 
caricature  of  real  manners,  ~uch  as  sur- 
vived from  the  debased  reign  of  Charles ; 
and  the  endeavour  to  expose  the  gross- 
ness  of  the  older  generation  was  itself  an 
evidence  that  a  better  polish  had  been 
given  to  social  life. 

*  This  purification  of  English  comedy  has  some- 
times been  attributed  to  the  effects  of  a  famous  es- 
say by  Collier  on  the  immorality  of  the  English 
stage.  But,  if  public  opinion  had  not  been  prepared 
to  go  along,  in  a  considerable  degree,  with  Collier, 
his  animadversions  could  have  produced  little 
change.  In  point  of  fact,  the  subsequent  improve- 
ment was  but  slow,  and,  for  some  years,  rather 
shown  in  avoiding  coarse  indecencies  than  in  much 
elevation  of  sentiment.  Steele's  Conscious  Lov- 
ers is  the  first  comedy  which  can  be  called  moral ; 
Gibber,  in  those  parts  of  the  Provoked  Husband 
that  he  wrote,  carried  this  farther,  and  the  stage 
afterward  grew  more  and  more  refined,  till  it  be- 
came languid  and  sentimental. 


FROM  1650  TO  1700. 


390 


CHAPTER  VII. 


HISTORY    OF    POLITE    LITERATURE    IN    PROSE    FROM    1650    TO    1700. 


SECTION  I. 

Italy. —High  Refinement  of  French  Language. — 
Fonterielle.  —  St.  Evremond.  —  Sevigne.  —  Bou- 
hours  and  Kapin. —  Miscellaneous  Writers. — 
English  Style,  and  Criticism. — Dryden. 

1.  IF  Italy  could  furnish  no  long  list  of 

I-owstateof  COllSpicilOUS  names  in  this  de- 
literature  in  partment  of  literature  to  our 
Italy-  last  period,  she  is  far  more  de- 

ficient in  the  present.  The  Prose  Floren- 
tine of  Dati,  a  collection  of  what  seemed 
the  best  specimens  of  Italian  eloquence 
in  this  century,  served  chiefly  to  prove  its 
mediocrity,  nor  has  that  editor,  by  his 
own  panegyric  on  Louis  XIV.  or  any 
other  of  his  writings,  been  able  to  redeem 
its  name.*  The  sermons  of  Segneri  have 
already  been  mentioned  ;  the  eulogies  be- 
stowed on  them  seem  to  be  founded,  in 
some  measure,  on  the  surrounding  bar- 
renness. The  letters  of  Magalotti,  and, 
still  more,  of  Redi,  themselves  philoso- 
phers, and  generally  writing  on  philoso- 
phy, seem  to  do  more  credit  than  any- 
thing else  to  this  period. f 

2.  Crescimbeni,  the  founder  of  the  Ar- 

.    cadian   Society,  has    made   an 

Cresc.mbem.   honourab]e   name   by  his   exer. 

tions  to  purify  the  national  taste,  as  well 
as  by  his  diligence  in  preserving  the  mem- 
ory of  better  ages  than  his  own.  His 
History  of  National  Poetry  is  a  laborious 
and  useful  work,  to  which  I  have  some- 
times been  indebted.  His  treatise  on  the 
beauty  of  that  poetry  is  only  known  to 
me  through  Salfi.  ft  is,  written  in  dia- 
logue, the  speakers  being  Arcadians.  Anx- 
ious to  extirpate  the  school  of  the  Mari- 
nists,  without  falling  back  altogether  into 
that  of  Petrarch,  he  set  up  Costanzo  as  a 
model  of  poetry.  Most  of  his  precepts, 
Salfi  observes,  are  very  trivial  at  present ; 
but  at  the  epoch  of  its  appearance  it  was 
of  great  service  towards  the  reform  of 
Italian  literature. f 

3.  This  period,  the  second  part  of  the 
Azeoriou-  seventeenth    century,    compre- 
is  xi v"  in  hends  the  most  considerable,  and, 
France.        jn  .every  sense,  the  most  impor- 
tant  and  distinguished  portion  of  what 
was  once  called  the  great  age  in  France, 
the  reign  of  Louis  XIV.     In  this  period 


*  Salfi,  xiv.,  25.     Tiraboschi,  xi.,  412. 
t  Salfi,  xiv.,  17.    Corniani.  viii.,  71. 
t  Salfi,  xiii.,  450. 


the  literature  of  France  was  adorned  by 
its  most  brilliant  writers  ;  since,  notwith- 
standing the  genius  and  popularity  of 
some  who  followed,  we  generally  find  a 
still  higher  place  awarded  by  men  of  fine 
taste  to  Bossuet  and  Pascal  than  to  Vol- 
taire and  Montesquieu.  The  language 
was  written  with  a  care  that  might  have 
fettered  the  powers  of  ordinary  men,  but 
rendered  those  of  such  as  we  have  men- 
tioned more  resplendent.  The  laws  of 
taste  and  grammar,  like  those  of  nature, 
were  held  immutable  ;  it  was  the  province 
of  human  genius  to  deal  with  them,  as  il 
does  with  nature,  by  a  skilful  employ- 
ment, not  by  a  preposterous  and  ineffect- 
ual rebellion  against  their  control.  Puri- 
ty and  perspicuity,  simplicity  and  ease, 
were  conditions  of  good  writing :  it  was 
never  thought  that  an  author,  especially 
in  prose,  might  transgress  the  recognised 
idiom  of  his  mother  tongue,  or  invent 
words  unknown  to  it,  for  the  sake  of  ef- 
fect or  novelty  ;  or,  if  in  some  rare  occur- 
rence so  bold  a  course  might  be  forgiven, 
these  exceptions  were  but  as  miracles  in 
religion,  which  would  cease  to  strike  us, 
or  be  no  miracles  at  all,  but  for  the  regu- 
larity of  the  laws  to  which  they  bear  wit- 
ness even  while  they  violate  them.  We 
have  not  thought  it  necessary  to  defer  the 
praise  which  some  great  French  writers 
have  deserved  on  the  score  of  their  lan- 
guage for  this  chapter.  Bossuet,  Male- 
branche,  Arnauld,  and  Pascal  have  alrea- 
dy been  commemorated ;  and  it  is  suffi- 
cient to  point  out  two  causes  in  perpetual 
operation  during  this  period  which  enno- 
bled and  preserved  in  purity  the  literature 
of  France  ;  one,  the  salutary  influence  of 
the  Academy ;  the  other,  that  emulation 
between  the  Jesuits  and  Janscnists  for 
public  esteem,  which  was  better  display- 
ed in  their  politer  writings  than  in  the  ab- 
struse and  endless  controversy  of  the  five 
propositions.  A  few  remain  to  be  men- 
tioned ;  and,  as  the  subject  of  this  chap- 
ter, in  order  to  avoid  frequent  subdivisions, 
is  miscellaneous,  the  reader  must  expect 
to  find  that  we  do  not,  in  every  instance, 
confine  ourselves  to  what  he  may  consider 
as  polite  letters. 

4.  Fontenelle,  by  the  variety  of  his  tal- 
ents, by  their  application  to  the  FontMieii*: 
pursuits  most  congenial  to  the  hi»  character. 


400 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


intellectual  character  of  his  contempora- 
ries, and  by  that  extraordinary  longevity 
which  made  those  contemporaries  not  less 
than  three  generations  of  mankind,  may 
be  reckoned  the  best  representative  of 
French  literature.  Born  in  1657,  and  dy- 
ing, within  a  few  days  of  a  complete  cen- 
tury, in  1757,  he  enjoyed  the  most  pro- 
tracted life  of  any  among  the  modern 
learned  ;  and  that  a  life  in  the  full  sun- 
shine of  Parisian  literature,  without  care 
and  without  disease.  In  nothing  was 
Fontenelle  a  great  writer;  his  mental  and 
moral  disposition  resembled  each  other ; 
equable,  without  the  capacity  of  perform- 
ing, and  hardly  of  conceiving,  anything 
truly  elevated,  but  not  less  exempt  from 
the  fruits  of  passion,  from  paradox,  unrea- 
sonableness, and  prejudice.  His  best  pro- 
ductions are,  perhaps,  the  eulogies  on  the 
deceased  members  of  the  Academy  of 
Sciences,  which  he  pronounced  during  al- 
most forty  years  ;  but  these  nearly  all  be- 
long to  the  eighteenth  century  ;  they  are 
just  and  candid,  with  sufficient,  though 
not  very  profound,  knowledge  of  the  ex- 
act sciences,  with  a  style  pure  and  flow- 
ing, which  his  good  sense  had  freed  from 
some  early  affectation,  and  his  cold  temper 
as  well  as  sound  understanding  restrain- 
ed from  extravagance.  In  his  first  works 
we  have  symptoms  of  an  infirmity  be- 
longing more  frequently  to  age  than  to 
youth ;  but  Fontenelle  was  never  young 
in  passion.  He  affects  the  tone  of  some- 
what pedantic  and  frigid  gallantry,  which 
seems  to  have  survived  the  society  of  the 
Hotel  Rambouillet  who  had  countenanced 
it,  and  which  borders  too  nearly  on  the 
language  which  Moliere  and  his  disciples 
had  well  exposed  in  their  coxcombs  on  the 
stage. 

5.  The  Dialogues  of  the  Dead,  publish- 
iHs  Dia-  ed,  I  think,  in  1685,  are  condemn- 
logues  of  ed  by  some  critics  for  their  false 
the  Dead.  taste  all(j  perpetual  strain  at  some- 
thing unexpected  and  paradoxical.  The 
leading  idea  is,  of  course,  borrowed  from 
Lucian ;  but  Fontenelle  has  aimed  at 
greater  poignancy  by  contrast ;  the  ghosts 
in  his  dialogues  are  exactly  those  who 
had  least  in  common  with  each  other  in 
life,  and  the  general  object  is  to  bring,  by 
some  happy  analogy  which  had  not  oc- 
curred to  the  reader,  or  by  some  inge- 
nious defence  of  what  he  had  been  accus- 
tomed to  despise,  the  prominences  and 
depressions  of  historic  characters  to  a 
level.  This  is  what  is  always  well  re- 
ceived in  the  kind  of  society  for  which 
Fontenelle  wrote ;  but  if  much  is  mere 
sophistry  in  his  dialogues,  if  the  general 
tone  is  little  above  that  of  the  world,  there 


is  also,  what  we  often  find  in  the  world, 
some  acuteness  and  novelty,  and  some 
things  put  in  a  light  which  it  may  be  worth 
while  not  to  neglect. 

6.  Fenelon,  not  many  years  afterward, 
copied  the  scheme,  though  not  the  Those  of 
style,  of  Fontenelle  in  his  own  Di-  Fenelon. 
alogues  of  the  Dead,  written  for  the  use 
of  his  pupil  the  Duke  of  Burgundy.    Some 
of  these  dialogues  are  not  truly  of  the 
dead  ;  the  characters  speak  as  if  on  earth, 
and  with  earthly  designs.     They  have  cer- 
tainly more  solid  sense  and  a  more  eleva- 
ted morality  than  those  of  Fontenelle,  to 
which  La  Harpe  has  preferred  them.    The 
noble  zeal  of  Fenelon  not  to  spare  the 
vices  of  kings,  in  writing  for  the  heir  of 
one  so  imperious  and  so  open  to  the  cen- 
sure of  reflecting  minds,  shines  through- 
out these  dialogues  ;  but,  designed  as  they 
were  for  a  boy,  they  naturally  appear  in 
some  places  rather  superficial. 

7.  Fontenelle  succeeded  better  in  his 
famous  dialogues  on  the  Plural-   Fonteneiie's 
ity  of  Worlds,  Les  Mondes;sin  Plurality  of 
which,  if  the  conception  is  not  Worlds- 
wholly  original,  he  has  at  least  developed 
it  with  so  much  spirit  and  vivacity,  that  it 
would  show  as  bad  taste  to  censure  his 
work  as  to  reckon  it  a  model  for  imita- 
tion.    It  is   one   of  those    happy   ideas 
which  have  been  privileged  monopolies 
of  the  first  inventor  ;  and  it  will  be  found, 
accordingly,  that  all  attempts  to  copy  this 
whimsical  union  of  gallantry  with   sci- 
ence have  been  insipid  almost  to  a  ridicu- 
lous degree.     Fontenelle  thrown  so  much 
gayety  and  wit  into  his  compliments  to 
the  lady  whom  he  initiates  into  his  theory, 
that  we  do  not  confound  them  with  the 
nonsense  of  coxcombs  ;   and  she  is  her- 
self so  spirited,  unaffected,  and  clever, 
that  no  philosopher  could  be  ashamed  of 
gallantry  towards  so  deserving  an  object. 
The  fascinating  paradox,  as  then  it  seem- 
ed, though  our  children  are  now  taught  to 
lisp  it,  that  the  moon,  the  planets,  the  fixed 
stars,  are  full  of  inhabitants,  is  presented 
with  no  more  show  of  science  than  was 
indispensable,  but  with  a  varying  liveli 
ness  that,  if  we  may  judge  by  the  conse- 
quences, has  served  to  convince  as  weK 
as  amuse.     The  plurality  of  worlds  had 
been  suggested  by  Wilkins,  and  probably 
by  some  Cartesians  in  France  ;  but  it  was 
first  rendered   a   popular   tenet   by   this 
agreeable  little  book  of  Fontenelle,  which 
had  a  great  circulation  in  Europe.     The 
ingenuity  with  which  he  obviates  the  dif- 
ficulties he  is  compelled  to  acknowledge 
is  worthy  of  praise  ;  and  a  good  deal  of 
the  popular  truths  of  physical  astronomy 
is  found  in  these  dialogues. 


FROM  1650  TO  1700. 


401 


8.  The  History  of  Oracles,  which  Fon- 
His  History  tenelle  published  in  1687,  is  wor 
r  oracles,  thy  of  observation  as  a  sign  of 
the  change  that  was  working  in  literature 
In  the  provinces  of  erudition  and  of  polite 
letters,  long  so  independent,  perhaps  evei 
so  hostile,  some  tendency  towards  a  coa- 
lition began  to  appear.  The  men  of  the 
world,  especially  after  they  had  acquiret 
a  free  temper  of  thinking  in  religion,  anc 
become  accustomed  to  talk  about  philoso- 
phy, desired  to  know  something  of  the 
questions  which  the  learned  disputed ;  but 
they  demanded  this  knowledge  by  a  short 
and  easy  road,  with  no  great  sacrifice  of 
their  leisure  or  attention.  Fontenelle,  in 
the  History  of  Oracles,  as  in  the  dialogues 
on  the  Plurality  of  Worlds,  prepared  a 
repast  for  their  taste.  A  dull  work  of  a 
learned  Dutch  physician,  Van  Dale,  had 
taken  up  the  subject  of  the  ancient  ora- 
cles, and  explained  them  by  human  im- 
posture instead  of  that  of  the  devil,  which 
had  been  the  more  orthodox  hypothesis. 
A  certain  degree  of  paradox,  or  want  of 
orthodoxy,  already  gave  a  zest  to  a  book 
in  France  ;  and  Fontenelle's  lively  man- 
ner, with  more  learning  than  good  society 
at  Paris  possessed,  and  about  as  much  as 
it  could  endure,  united  to  a  clear  and  acute 
line  of  argument,  created  a  popularity  for 
his  History  of  Oracles  which  we  cannot 
reckon  altogether  unmerited.* 

9.  The  works  of  St.  Evreraond  were 
St.  Evre-  collected  after  his  death  in  1705  ; 
mond.  but  many  had  been  printed  before, 
and  he  evidently  belongs  to  the  latter  half 
of  the  seventeenth  century.  The  fame 
of  St.  Evremond  as  a  brilliant  star,  during 
a  long  life,  in  the  polished  aristocracy  of 
ttfcnee  and  England,  gave,  for  a  time,  a 
considerable  lustre  to  his  writings,  the 
greater  paj-t  of  which  are  such  effusions 
as  the  daily  intercourse  of  good  company 
called  forth.  In  verse  or  in  prose,  he  is 
the  gallant  friend,  rather  than  lover,  of  la- 
dies who,  secure,  probably,  of  love  in  some 
other  quarter,  were  proud  of  the  friendship 
of  a  wit.  He  never,  to  do  him  justice, 
mistakes  his  character,  which,  as  his  age 
was  not  a  little  advanced,  might  have  in- 
curred ridicule.  Hortense  Mancini,  duch- 
ess of  Mazarin,  is  his  heroine ;  but  we 
take  little  interest  in  compliments  to  a 
woman  neither  respected  in  her  life  nor 
remembered  since.  Nothing  can  be  more 
trifling  than  the  general  character  of  the 
writings  of  St.  Evremond  ;  but  sometimes 
he  rises  to  literary  criticism,  or  even  civil 


*  I  have  riot  compared,  or  indeed  read,  Van 
Dale's  work ;  but  I  rathei  suspect  that  some  of  the 
reasoning,  not  the  learning,  of  Fontenelle  is  ori- 
ginal. 

VOL.  II.— 3  E 


history ;  and  on  such  topics  he  is  clear, 
unaffected,  cold,  without  imagination  or 
sensibility;  a  type  of  the  frigid  being, 
whom  an  aristocratic  and  highly-polished 
society  is  apt  to  produce.  The  chief 
merit  of  St.  Evremond  is  in  his  style  and 
manner;  he  has  less  wit  than  Voiture, 
who  contributed  to  form  him,  or  than 
Voltaire,  whom  he  contributed  to  form ; 
but  he  shows  neither  the  effort  of  the  for- 
mer nor  the  restlessness  of  the  latter. 
Voltaire,  however,  when  he  is  most  quiet, 
as  in  the  earliest  and  best  of  his  historical 
works,  seems  to  bear  a  considerable  re- 
semblance to  St.  Evremond,  and  there 
can  be  no  doubt  that  he  was  familiar  with 
the  latter's  writings. 

10.  A  woman  has  the  glory  of  being 
full  as  conspicuous  in  the  graces  Madame  de 
of  style  as  any  writer  of  this  fa-  Sevjgn*. 
mous  age.  It  is  evident  that  this  was 
Madame  de  Sevigne.  Her  letters,  indeed, 
were  not  published  till  the  eighteenth  cen- 
tury, but  they  were  written  in  the  midday 
of  Louis's  reign.  Their  ease  and  freedom 
from  affectation  are  more  striking  by  con- 
trast with  the  two  epistolary  styles  which 
had  been  most  admired  in  France  :  that  ol 
Balzac,  which  is  laboriously  tumid,  and 
that  of  Voiture,  which  becomes  insipid  by 
dint  of  affectation.  Every  one  perceives 
that  in  the  letters  of  a  mother  to  her 
daughter,  the  public,  in  a  strict  sense,  is 
not  thought  of;  and  yet  the  habit  of 
speaking  and  writing  what  men  of  wit 
and  taste  would  desire  to  hear  and  read, 
gives  a  certain  mannerism,  I  will  not  say 
air  of  effort,  even  to  the  letters  of  Madame 
de  Sevigne.  The  abandonment  of  the 
leart  to  its  casual  impulses  is  not  so  gen- 
uine as  in  some  that  have  sjnce  been  pubr 
.ished.  It  is  at  least  clear  that  it  is  pos- 
sible to  become  affected  in  copying  her 
unaffected  style  ;  and  some  of  Walpole's 
etters  bear  witness  to  this.  Her  wit  and 
;alent  of  painting  by  single  touches  are 
very  eminent ;  scarcely  any  collection  of 
etters,  which  contain  so  little  that  can  in- 
terest a  distant  age,  are  read  with  such 
pleasure  ;  if  they  have  any  general  fault, 
t  is  a  little  monotony  and  excess  of  affec- 
ion  towards  her  daughter,  which  is  rcpoit- 
3d  to  have  wearied  its  object ;  and,  in  con- 
trast with  this,  a  little  want  of  sensibility 
towards  all  beyond  her  immediate  friends, 
and  a  readiness  to  find  something  ludicrous 
n  the  dangers  and  sufferings  of  others.* 


*  The  proofs  of  this  are  numerous  enough  in 
ler  letters.  In  one  of  them  she  mentions  that  a 
ady  of  her  acquaintance,  having  been  bitten  by  a 
Tiad  dog,  had  gone  to  be  dipped  in  the  sea,  and 
unuses  herself  by  taking  off  the  provincial  accent 
.vitL  which  she  will  express  herself  on  the  nrs> 


402 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


11.  The  French  Academy  had  been  so 
The  French  judicious,  both  in  the  choice  of 
Academy,  its  members  and  in  the  general 
tenour  of  its  proceedings,  that  it  stood 
very  high  in  public  esteem,  and  a  volun- 
tary deference  was  commonly  shown  to 
its  authority.  The  favour  of  Louis  XIV., 
when  he  grew  to  manhood,  was  accorded 
as  amply  as  that  of  Richelieu.  The  Acad- 
emy was  received  by  the  king,  when  they 
approached  him  publicly,  with  the  same 
ceremonies  as  the  superior  courts  of  jus- 
tice. This  body  had,  almost  from  its 
commencement,  undertaken  a  national 
dictionary,  which  should  carry  the  lan- 
guage to  its  utmost  perfection,  and  trace 
a  road  to  the  highest  eloquence  that  de- 
pended on  purity  and  choice  of  words  ; 
more  than  this  could  not  be  given  by  man. 
The  work  proceeded  very  slowly ;  and 
dictionaries  were  published  in  the  mean 
xime,  one  by  Richelet  in  1680,  another  by 
Furetiere.  The  former  seems  to  be  little 
more  than  a  glossary  of  technical  or  other- 
wise doubtful  words  ;*  but  the  latter,  though 
pretending  to  contain  only  terms  of  art  and 
science,  was  found,  by  its  definitions  and 
by  the  authorities  it  quoted,  to  interfere  so 
much  with  the  project  of  the  academi- 
cians, who  had  armed  themselves  with  an 
exclusive  privilege,  that  they  not  only  ex- 
pelled Furetiere  from  their  body,  on  the 
allegation  that  he  had  availed  himself  of 
materials  intrusted  to  him  by  the  Acade- 
my for  its  own  dictionary,  but  instituted  a 
long  process  at  law  to  hinder  its  publica- 
tion. This  was  in  1685 ;  and  the  diction- 
ary of  Furetiere  only  appeared  after  his 
death,  at  Amsterdam,  in  1690.f  Whatever 
may  have  been  the  delinquency,  moral  or 
legal,  of  this  compiler,  his  dictionary  is 
praised  by  Goujet  as  a  rich  treasure,  in 
which  almost  everything  is  found  that  we 
can  desire  for  a  sound  knowledge  of  the 
language.  It  has  been  frequently  reprint- 


plunge.  She  makes  a  jest  of  La  Voisin's  execu- 
tion ;  and,  though  that  person  was  as  little  entitled 
to  sympathy  as  any  one,  yet,  when  a  woman  is 
burned  alive,  it  is  not  usual  for  another  woman  to 
turn  it  into  drollery. 

Madame  de  Sevigne's  taste  has  been  arraigned 
for  slighting  Racine  ;  and  she  has  been  charged 
with  the  unfortunate  prediction,  II  passera  comme 
le  cafe.  But  it  is  denied  that  these  words  can  be 
found,  though  few  like  to  give  up  so  diverting  a 
miscalculation  of  futurity.  In  her  time  Corneille's 
party  was  so  well  supported,  and  he  deserved  so 
much  gratitude  and  reverence,  that  we  cannot 
much  wonder  at  her  being  carried  a  little  too  far 
against  his  rival.  Who  has  ever  seen  a  woman 
just  towards  the  rivals  of  her  friends,  though  many 
are  just  towards  their  own  ? 

*  Goujet     Baillet,  n.  762. 

t  Pehsson,  Hist,  de  PAcademie  (continuation 
par  Olivet),  p.  47.  Goujet,  Bibliotheque  Franchise, 
i.,  232,  et  post.  BiDgr.  Univ.,  art.  Furetiere. 


ed,  and  continued  long  in  esteem.  But 
the  dictionary  of  the  Academy,  which  was 
published  in  1694,  claimed  an  authority  to 
which  that  of  a  private  man  could  not 
pretend.  Yet  the  first  edition  seems  to 
have  rather  disappointed  the  public  ex- 
pectation. Many  objected  to  the  want  of 
quotations,  and  to  the  observance  of  an 
orthography  that  had  become  obsolete. 
The  Academy  undertook  a  revision  of  its 
work  in  1700  ;  and  finally  profiting  by  the 
public  opinion  on  which  it  endeavoured  to 
act,  rendered  this  dictionary  the  most  re- 
ceived standard  of  the  French  language.* 

12.  The  Grammaire   Generale  et  Rai- 
sonnee  of  Lancelot,  in  which  Ar-  French 
nauld  took  a  considerable  share,  Grammars, 
is  rather  a  treatise  on  the  philosophy  of  all 
language  than  one  peculiar  to  the  French. 
"  The   best   critics,"   says    Baillet,   "  ac- 
knowledge that  there  is  nothing  written 
by  either  the  ancient  or  the  modern  gram- 
marians with  so  much  justness  and  solid- 
ity.1'!   Vigneul-Marville  bestows  upon  it 
an  almost  equal  eulogy. |    Lancelot  was 
copied  in  a  great  degree  by  Lami,  in  his 
Rhetoric  or  Art  of  Speaking,  with  little  of 
value  that  is  original. §    Vaugelas  retained 
his  place  as  the  founder  of  sound  gram- 
matical criticism,  though  his  judgments 
have  not  been  uniformly  confirmed  by  the 
next  generation.  His  remarks  were  edited, 
with  notes,  by  Thomas  Corneille,  who  had 
the  reputation  of  an  excellent  gramma- 
rian.||    The  observations  of  Menage  on  the 
French  language,  in  1675  and  1676,  are  said 
to  have  the  fault  of  reposing  too  much  on 
obsolete  authorities,  even  those  of  the  six- 
teenth century,  which  had  long  been  pro- 
scribed by  a  politer  age.^f     Notwithstand- 
ing the  zeal  of  the  Academy,  no  criti- 
cal laws  could  arrest  the  revolutions  of 
speech.     Changes  came  in  witJuhe  lapse 
of  time,  and  were  sanctioned  by  the  im- 
perious rule  of  custom.     In  a  book  on 
grammar,  published  as  early  as  1688,  Bal- 
zac and  Voiture,  even  Patru  and  the  Port- 
Royal  writers,  are  called  semi-moderns  ;** 
so  many  new  phrases  had  since  made  their 
way  into  composition,  so  many  of  theirs 
had  acquired  a  certain  air  of  antiquity. 

13.  The  genius  of  the  French  language, 
as  it  was  estimated  in  this  age  Rouhours» 
by  those  who  aspired  to  the  char-  Entretiens 
acter   of  good   critics,  may   be  ^"f^' 
learned  from  one  of  the  dialogues 

*  Pelisson,  p.  69.    Goujet,  p.  261. 

t  Jugemens  des  Scavans,  n.  606.  Goujet  copies 
Baillet's  words. 

t  Melanges  de  Litterature,  i.,  124. 

§  Goujet,  i..  56.     Gibert,  p.  351. 

||  Goujet,  146.     Biogr.  Univ.  f  Id.,  153. 

**  Bibliotheque  Universelle,  xv.,  351.  Perrault 
makes  a  similar  remark  on  Patru. 


FROM  1650  TO  1700. 


403 


in  a  work  of  Bouhours,  Les  Entretiens 
d'Ariste  et  d'Eugene.  Bouhours  was  a 
Jesuit,  who  affected  a  polite  and  lively  tone, 
according  to  the  fashion  of  his  time,  so  as 
to  warrant  some  degree  of  ridicule  ;  but  a 
man  of  taste  and  judgment,  whom,  though 
La  Harpe  speaks  of  him  with  some  dis- 
dain, his  contemporaries  quoted  with  re- 
spect. The  first  arid  the  most  interesting 
at  present  of  these  conversations,  which 
are  feigned  to  take  place  between  two 
gentlemen  of  literary  taste,  turns  on  the 
French  language.*  This  he  presumes  to 
be  the  best  of  all  modern;  deriding  the 
Spanish  for  its  pomp,  the  Italian  for  its 
finical  efFeminacy.f  The  French  has  the 
secret  of  uniting  brevity  with  clearness, 
and  with  purity  and  politeness.  The 
Greek  and  Latin  are  obscure  where  they 
are  concise.  The  Spanish  is  always  dif- 
fuse. The  Spanish  is  a  turbid  torrent, 
often  overspreading  the  country  with  great 
noise ;  the  Italian  a  gentle  rivulet,  occa- 
sionally given  to  inundate  its  meadows ; 
the  French  a  noble  river,  enriching  the 
adjacent  lands,  but  with  an  equal  majestic 
course  of  waters  that  never  quits  its  level.  J 
Spanish,  again,  he  compares  to  an  in- 
solent beauty,  that  holds  her  head  high, 
and  takes  pleasure  in  splendid  dress ; 
Italian  to  a  painted  coquette,  always  at- 
tired to  please ;  French  to  a  modest  and 
agreeable  lady,  who,  if  you  may  call  her 
a  prude,  has  nothing  uncivil  or  repulsive 
in  her  prudery.  Latin  is  the  common 
mother ;  but,  while  Italian  has  the  sort  of 
likeness  to  Latin  which  an  ape  bears  to  a 
man,  in  French  we  have  the  dignity,  po- 
liteness, purity,  and  good  sense  of  the  Au- 
gustan age.  The  French  have  rejected 
almost  all  the  diminutives  once  in  use,  and 
do  not,  like  the  Italians,  admit  the  right  of 
framing  others.  This  language  does  not 
tolerate  rhyming  sounds  in  prose,  nor  even 
any  kind  of  assonance,  as  amertume  and 
fortune,  near  together.  It  rejects  very 
bold  metaphors,  as  the  zenith  of  virtue,  the 
apogee  of  glory ;  and  it  is  remarkable  that 


*  Bouhours  points  out  several  innovations  which 
had  lately  come  into  use.  He  dislikes  avoir  des 
tntnagemens,  or  avoir  de  la  consideration,  and  thinks 
these  phrases  would  not  last,  in  which  he  was 
mistaken.  Tour  de  visage  and  tour  d'esprit  were 
new :  the  words/onrfs,  mdsures,  amities,  compte,  and 
many  more,  were  used  in  new  senses.  Thus  also 
OSSKZ  and  trap ;  as  the  phrase,  je  ne  svis  pas  trap  de 
votre  avis.  It  seems,  on  reflection,  that  some  of  the 
expressions  he  animadverts  upon  must  have  been 
affected  while  they  were  new,  being  in  opposition 
to  the  correct  meaning  of  words  ;  and  it  is  always 
curious,  in  other  languages  as  well  as  our  own,  to 
observe  the  comparatively  recent  nobility  of  many 
things  quite  established  by  present  usage.— Entre- 


tieS*e  d'Ariste  et  d'Eugene,  p.  95. 
t  P.  52  (edit.  167J ). 


P.  77. 


its  poetry  is  almost  as  hostile  to  metaphor 
as  its  prose.*  "  We  have  very  few  words 
merely  poetical,  and  the  language  of  our 
poets  is  not  very  different  from  that  of  the 
world.  Whatever  be  the  cause,  it  is  cer- 
tain that  a  figurative  style  is  neither  good 
among  us  in  verse  nor  in  prose."  This  is 
evidently  much  exaggerated,  and  in  con- 
tradiction to  the  known  examples,  at  least, 
of  dramatic  poetry.  All  affectation  and 
labour,  he  proceeds  to  say,  are  equally  re- 
pugnant to  a  good  French  style.  "  If  we 
would  speak  the  language  well,  we  should 
not  try  to  speak  it  too  well.  It  detests  ex- 
cess of  ornament ;  it  would  almost  desire 
that  words  should  be,  as  it  were,  naked ; 
their  dress  must  be  no  more  than  neces- 
sity and  decency  require.  Its  simplicity 
is  averse  to  Compound  words ;  those  ad- 
jectives whicn  are  formed  by  such  a  junc- 
ture of  two,  have  long  been  exiled  both 
from  prose  and  verse.  Our  own  pronun- 
ciation," he  affirms,  "is  the  most  natural 
and  pleasing  of  any.  The  Chinese  and 
other  Asiatics  sing ;  the  Germans  rattle 
(rallent) ;  the  Spaniards  spout ;  the  Ital- 
ians sigh  ;  the  English  whistle  ;  the  French 
alone  can  properly  be  said  to  speak ;  which 
arises,  in  fact,  from  our  not  accenting  any 
syllable  before  the  penultimate.  The 
French  language  is  best  adapted  to  ex- 
press the  tenderest  sentiments  of  the 
heart  ;  for  which  reason  our  songs  are  so 
impassioned  and  pathetic,  while  those  of 
Italy  and  Spain  are  full  of  nonsense.  Oth- 
er languages  may  address  the  imagination, 
but  ours  alone  speaks  to  the  heart,  which 
never  understands  what  is  said  in  them."f 
This  is  literally  amusing;  and  with  equal 
patriotism,  Bouhours,  in  another  place,  has 
proposed  the  question,  whether  a  German 
can,  by  the  nature  of  things,  possess  any 
wit. 

14.  Bouhours,  not  deficient,  as  we  may 
perceive,  in  self-confidence  and  Attacked 
proneness  to  censure,  presumed  by  Barbier 
to  turn  into  ridicule  the  writers  d'Aucour. 
of  Port-Royal,  at  that  time  of  such  distin- 
guished reputation  as  threatened  to  eclipse 
the  credit  which  the  Jesuits  had  always 
preserved  in  polite  letters.  He  alludes 
to  their  long  periods  and  the  exaggerated 
phrases  of  invective  which  they  poured 
forth  in  controversy.^  But  the  Jansenist 


*  P.  60. 
t  P.  150. 


t  P.  68. 
Vigneul-Marville  observes  that  the 


Port-Royal  writers  formed  their  style  originally  on 
that  of  Balzac  (vol.  1.,  p.  107)  ;  and  that  M.  d'An- 
dilly,  brother  of  Antony  Arnauld,  affected  at  one 
time  a  grand  and  copious  manner  like  the  Span- 
iards, as  being  more  serious  and  imposing,  espe 
cially  in  devotional  writings ;  but  afterward,  find 
ing  the  French  were  impatient  of  this  style,  that 
party  abandoned  it  for  one  more  concise,  which  ft 


404 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


party  was  well  able  to  defend  itself.  Bar- 
bier  d'Aucour  retaliated  on  the  vain  Jesuit 
by  his  Sentimens  de  Cleanthe  sur  les  En- 
tretiens  d'Ariste  et  d'Eugene.  It  seems 
to  be  the  general  opinion  of  French  critics 
that  he  has  well  exposed  the  weak  parts 
of  his  adversary,  his  affected  air  of  the 
world,  the  occasional  frivolity  and  feeble- 
ness of  his  observations  ;  yet  there  seems 
something  morose  in  the  censures  of  the 
supposed  Cleanthe,  which  renders  this 
book  less  agreeable  than  that  on  which  it 
animadverts. 

15.  Another  work  of  criticism  by  Bou- 
i-a  Maniere  nours,  La  Maniere  de  Bien  Pen- 
<ie  Bien  Pea-  ser,  which  is  also  in  dialogue, 
Ber-  contains  much  that  shows  acute- 
ness    and    delicacy    of    discrimination ; 
though  his  taste  was  deficient  in  warmth 
and  sensibility,  which  renders  him  some- 
what too  strict  and  fastidious  in  his  judg- 
ments.    He  is  an  unsparing  enemy  of  ob- 
scurity, exaggeration,  and  nonsense,  and 
laughs  at  the  hyperbolical  language   of 
Balzac,  while  he  has  rather  overpraised 
Voiture.*    The  affected,  inflated  thoughts, 
of  which  the  Italian  and  Spanish  writers 
afford  him  many  examples,  Bouhours  just- 
ly condemns,  and  by  the  correctness  of 
his  judgment  may  deserve,  on  the  whole, 
a  respectable  place  in  the  second  order  of 
critics. 

16.  The  Reflexions  sur  1'Eloquence  et 


is  by  no  means  less  difficult  to  write  well,  p.  139. 
Baillet  seems  to  refer  their  love  of  long  periods  to 
the  famous  advocate  Le  Maistre,  who  had  employ- 
ed them  in  his  pleadings,  not  only  as  giving  more 
dignity,  hut  also  because  the  public  taste  at  that 
time  favoured  them. — Jugemens  des  Sc,avans,  n. 
953. 

*  Voiture,  he  says,  always  takes  a  tone  of  raillery 
•w&en  be  exaggerates:  Le  faux  devient  vrai  &  la 
faveur  de  1'ironie,  p.  29.  But  we  can  hardly  think 
that.  Balzac  was  not  gravely  ironical  in  some  of  the 
strange  hyperboles  which  Bouhours  quotes  from 
him. 

In  the  fourth  dialogue  Bouhours  has  many  just 
observations  on  the  necessity  of  clearness.  An  ob- 
scurity arising  from  allusion  to  things  now  un- 
knowr,  such  as  we  find  in  the  ancients,  is  no  fault, 
but  a  misfortune;  but  this  is  no  excuse  for  one 
which  may  be  avoided,  and  arises  from  the  writer's 
indistinctness  of  conception  or  language  :  Cela 
n'est  pas  intelligible,  dit  Philinthe  (after  hearing  a 
foolish  rhapsody  extracted  from  a  funeral  sermon 
on  Louis  XIII.).  Non,  repondit  Eudoxe,  ce  n'est 
pas  tout-a-fait  de  galimatias,  ce  n'est  que  du  ph6- 
bus.  Vous  mettez  done,  dit  Philinthe,  de  la  diffe- 
rence entre  le  galimatias  et  le  phe'bus  ?  Oui,  repar- 
tit  Eudoxe,  le  galimatias  renferme  une  obscurite 

E-ofonde,  et  n'a  de  soi-me'me  mil  sens  raisonnable. 
e  phebus  n'est  pas  si  obscur,  et  a  un  brillant  qui 
signifie,  ou  semble  signifier  quelque  chose ;  le  so- 
leil  y  entre  d'ordinaire,  et  c'est  peut-etre  ce  qui  a 
donne  lieu  en  notre  langue  au  nom  de  phebus.  Ce 
n'est  pas  que  quelquefois  le  ph6bus  ne  devienne  ob- 
scur, jusqu'k  n'etre  pas  entendu ;  mais  alors  le  gali- 
matias s'en  joint;  ce  ne  sont  que  brillans  et  que 
tenebres  de  tous  cotes,  p.  342. 


sur  la  Poesie  of  Rapin,  another  Rapin.s  R^. 
Jesuit,  whose  Latin  poem  on  flections  on 
Gardens  has  already  been  prais-  El°<iuence 
ed,  are  judicious,  though  per-  ar 
haps  rather  too  diffuse  ;  his  criticism  is 
what  would  appear  severe  in  our  times ; 
but  it  was  that  of  a  man  formed  by  the 
ancients,  and  who  lived  also  in  the  best 
and  most  critical  age  of  France.  The  re- 
flections on  poetry  are  avowedly  founded 
on  Aristotle,  but  with  much  that  is  new, 
and  with  examples  from  modern  poets  to 
confirm  and  illustrate  it.  The  practice  at 
this  time  in  France  was  to  depreciate  the 
Italians ;  and  Tasso  is  often  the  subject 
of  Rapin's  censure,  for  want,  among  other 
things,  of  that  grave  and  majestic  charac- 
ter which  epic  poetry  demands.  Yet  Ra- 
pin is  not  so  rigorous  but  that  he  can 
blame  the  coldness  of  modern  precepts  in 
regard  to  French  poetry.  After  condemn- 
ing the  pompous  tone  of  Breboeuf  in  his 
translation  of  the  Pharsalia,  he  remarks 
that  "  we  have  gone  since  to  an  opposite 
extreme  by  too  scrupulous  a  care  for  the 
purity  of  the  language  ;  for  we  have  be- 
gun to  take  from  poetry  its  force  and  dig- 
nity by  too  much  reserve  and  a  false  mod- 
esty, which  we  have  established  as  char- 
acteristics of  our  language,  so  as  to  de- 
prive it  of  that  judicious  boldness  which 
true  poetry  requires  ;  we  have  cut  off  the 
metaphors  and  all  those  figures  of  speech 
which  give  force  and  spirit  to  words,  and 
reduced  all  the  artifices  of  words  to  a 
pure,  regular  style,  which  exposes  itself 
to  no  risk  by  bold  expression.  The  taste 
of  the  age  ;  the  influence  of  women,  who 
are  naturally  timid ;  that  of  the  court, 
which  had  hardly  anything  in  common 
with  the  ancients,  on  account  of  its  usual 
antipathy  for  learning,  accredited  this 
manner  of  writing."*  In  this  Rapin 
seems  to  glance  at  the  polite  but  cold 
criticism  of  his  brother  Jesuit,  Bouhours. 
17.  Rapin,  in  another  work  of  criticism, 
the  Parallels  of  Great  Men  of  His  Parallels 
Antiquity,  has  weighed  in  the  of  Great  Men. 
scales  of  his  own  judgment  Demosthenes 
and  Cicero,  Homer  and  Virgil,  Thucydides 
and  Livy,  Plato  and  Aristotle.  Thus  elo- 
quence, poetry,  history,  and  philosophy 
pass  under  review.  The  taste  of  Rapin 
is  for  the  Latins ;  Cicero  he  prefers  to 
Demosthenes ;  Livy,  on  the  whole,  to  Thu- 
cydides, though  this  he  leaves  more  to  the 
reader ;  but  is  confident  that  none  except 
mere  grammarians  have  ranked  Homer 
above  Virgil. f  The  loquacity  of  the  older 
poet :  the  frequency  of  his  moral  reflec- 
tions, which  Rapin  thinks  misplaced  in  an 


*  P.  147. 


P.  158. 


FROM  1650  TO  1700. 


405 


epic  poem;  his  similes,  the  sameness  of 
his  traditions,  are  treated  very  freely ;  yet 
he  gives  him  the  preference  over  Virgil 
for  grandeur  and  nobleness  of  narration, 
for  his  epithets,  and  the  splendour  of  his 
language.  But  he  is  of  opinion  that 
jEneas  is  a  much  finer  character  than 
Achilles.  These  two  epic- poets  he  holds, 
however,  to  be  the  greatest  in  the  world ; 
as  for  all  the  rest,  ancient  and  modern,  he 
enumerates  them  one  after  another,  and 
can  find  little  but  faults  in  them  all.*  Nor 
does  he  esteem  dramatic  and  lyric  poets, 
at  least  modern,  much  better. 

18.  The  Treatise  on  Epic   Poetry  by 
BOSSU  on     Bossu  was  once  of  some  repu- 
epic  poetry,  tation.      An    English    poet   has 
thought  fit  to  say,  that  we  should  have 
stared  like  Indians   at  Homer   if  Bossu 
had  not  taught  us  to  understand  him.f 
The  book  is,  however,  long  since  forgot- 
ten, and  we   fancy  that  we   understand 
Homer  not  the  worse.     It  is  in  six  books, 
which  treat  of  the  fable,  the  action,  the 
narration,  the  manners,  the  machinery,  the 
sentiments  and  expressions  of  an  epic  po- 
em.    Homer  is  the  favourite  poet  of  Bos- 
su, and  Virgil  next  to  him  ;  this  preference 
of  the  superior  model  does  him  some  hon- 
our in  a  generation  which  was  becoming 
insensible  to  its  excellence.     Bossu  is  ju- 
dicious and  correct  in  taste,  but  without 
much  depth,  and  he  seems  to  want  the 
acuteness  of  Bouhours. 

19.  Fontenelle  is  a  critic  of  whom  it 

Fontenelle's    maY    be   said  that  he    did   ™™ 

critical  wri-  injury  to  fine  taste  and  sensibil- 
tings.  jty  m  works  of  imagination  and 

sentiment  than  any  man  without  his  good 
sense  and  natural  acuteness  could  have 
done.  He  is  systematically  cold ;  if  he 
seems  to  tolerate  any  flight  of  the  poet,  it 
is  rather  by  caprice  than  by  a  genuine  dis- 
cernment of  beauty ;  but  he  clings,  with 
the  unyielding  claw  of  a  cold-blooded  ani- 
mal, to  the  faults  of  great  writers,  which 
he  exposes  with  reason  and  .sarcasm.  His 
Reflections  on  Poetry  relate  mostly  to 
dramatic  composition,  and  to  that  of  the 
French  stage.  Theocritus  is  his  victim 
in  the  Dissertation  on  Pastoral  Poetry ; 
but  Fontenelle  gave  the  Sicilian  his  re- 
venge ;  he  wrote  pastorals  himself  -•  and 
we  have  altogether  forgotten,  or,  when 
we  again  look  at,  can  very  partially  ap- 
prove, the  idyls  of  the  Boulevards,  while 
those  Doric  dactyls  of  Theocritus  linger 
still,  like  what  Schiller  has  called  soft 


*  P.  175. 

t  Had  Bossu  never  writ,  the  world  had  still, 
Like  Indians,  viewed  this  mighty  piece  of  wit. 
MULGKAVE'S  Essay  on.  Poetry. 


music  of  yesterday,  from  our  schoolboy 
reminiscences  on  our  aged  ears. 

20.  The  reign  of  mere  scholars  was  now 
at  an  end  ;  no  worse  name  than 

that  of  pedant  could  be  imposed  £"1? 
on  those  who  sought  for  glory  ;  language  to 
the  admiration  of  all  that  was  Latin- 
national  in  arts,  in  arms,  in  manners,  as 
well  as  in  speech,  carried  away,  like  a 
torrent,  those  prescriptive  titles  to  rever- 
ence which  only  lingered  in  colleges.  The 
superiority  of  the  Latin  language  to  French 
had  long  been  Contested ;  even  Henry  Ste- 
phens has  a  dissertation  in  favour  of  the 
latter ;  and  in  this  period,  though  a  few 
resolute  scholars  did  not  retire  from  the 
field,  it  was  generally  held  either  that 
French  was  every  way  the  better  means 
of  expressing  our  thoughts,  or,  at  least,  so 
much  more  convenient  as  to  put  nearly  an 
end  to  the  use  of  the  other.  Latin  had 
been  the  privileged  language  of  stone ; 
but  Louis  XIV.,  in  consequence  of  an  es- 
say by  Charpentier,  in  1076,  replaced  the 
inscriptions  on  his  triumphal  arches  by 
others  in  French.*  This,  of  course,  does 
not  much  affect  the  general  question  be- 
tween the  two  languages. 

21.  But  it  was  not  in  language  alone 
that  the  ancients  were  to  endure  „, 

.         j.      i     •>•      .    General 

the  aggression  of  a  disobedient  superiority 
posterity.  It  had  long  been  a  of  ancients 
problem  in  Europe  whether  they  dl 
had  not  been  surpassed;  one,  perhaps, 
which  began  before  the  younger  genera- 
tions could  make  good  their  claim.  But 
Time,  the  nominal  ally  of  the  old  possess- 
ors, gave  his  more  powerful  aid  to  their 
opponents  ;  every  age  saw  the  proportions 
change,  and  new  men  rise  up  to  strength- 
en the  ranks  of  the  assailants.  In  philos- 
ophy, in  science,  in  natural  knowledge, 
the  ancients  had  none  but  a  few  mere  ped- 
ants or  half -read  lovers  of  paradox  to 
maintain  their  superiority ;  but  in  the 
beauties  of  language,  in  eloquence  and  po- 
etry, the  suffrage  of  criticism  had  long 
been  theirs.  It  seemed  time  to  dispute 
even  this.  Charles  Perrault,  a  Charles 
man  of  some  learning,  some  vari-  I'errauit. 
ety  of  Acquirement,  and  a  good  deal  of  in- 
genuity and  quickness,  published,  in  1687, 
his  famous  "  Parallel  of  the  Ancients  and 
Moderns  in  all  that  regards  Arts  and  Sci- 
ences." This  Is  a  series  of  dialogues,  the 
parties  being,  first,  a  president,  deeply 
learned,  and  prejudiced  in  all  respects  for 
antiquity ;  secondly,  an  abbe,  not  ignorant, 
but  having  reflected  more  than  read,  cool 
and  impartial,  always  made  to  appear  in 
the  right,  or,  in  other  words,  the  author's 


Goujet,  i.,  13. 


406 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


representative  ;  thirdly,  a  man  of  the 
world,  seizing  the  gay  side  of  every  sub- 
ject, and  apparently  brought  in  to  prevent 
the  book  from  becoming  dull.  They  begin 
with  architecture  and  painting,  and  soon 
make  it  clear  that  Athens  was  a  mere 
heap  of  pigsties  in  comparison  with  Ver- 
sailles ;  the  ancient  painters  fare  equally 
ill.  They  next  advance  to  eloquence  and 
poetry,  and  here,  where  the  strife  of  war 
is  sharpest,  the  defeat  of  antiquity  is  chant- 
ed with  triumph.  Homer,  Virgil,  Horace 
are  successively  brought 'forward  for  se- 
vere and  often  unjust  censure ;  but,  of 
course,  it  is  not  to  be  imagined  that  Per- 
rault  is  always  in  the  wrong ;  he  had  to 
fight  against  a  pedantic  admiration  which 
surrende-s  sound  taste  ;  and,  having  found 
the  bow  bent  too  much  in  one  way,  he 
forced  it  himself  too  violently  into  another 
direction.  It  is  the  fault  of  such  books  to 
be  one-sided ;  they  are  not  unfrequently 
right  in  censuring  blemishes,  but  very  un- 
candid  in  suppressing  beauties.  Homer 
has  been  worst  used  by  Perrault,  who  had 
not  the  least  power  of  feeling  his  excel- 
lence ;  but  the  advocate  of  the  newer  age 
in  his  dialogue  admits  that  the  jEneid  is 
superior  to  any  modern  epic.  In  his  com- 
parison of  eloquence,  Perrault  has  given 
some  specimens  of  both  sides  in  contrast ; 
comparing,  by  means,  however,  of  his  own 
versions,  the  funeral  orations  of  Pericles 
and  Plato  with  those  of  Bourdaloue,  Bos- 
suet,  and  Flechier,  the  description  by  Pliny 
of  his  country  seat  with  one  by  Balzac,  an 
epistle  of  Cicero  with  another  of  Balzac. 
These  comparisons  were  fitted  to  produce 
a  great  effect  among  those  who  could  nei- 
ther read  the  original  text,  nor  place  them- 
selves in  the  midst  of  ancient  feelings  and 
habits.  It  is  easy  to  perceive  that  a  vast 
majority  of  the  French  in  that  age  would 
agree  with  Perrault ;  the  book  was  writ- 
ten for  the  times. 

22.  Fontenelle,  in  a  very  short  digression 
on  the  ancients  and  moderns,  sub- 
elle-  joined  to  his  Discourse  on  Pas- 
toral Poetry,  followed  the  steps  of  Per- 
rault. "  The  whole  question  as  to  pre- 
eminence between  the  ancients  and  mod- 
erns," he  begins,  "  reduces  itself  into  an- 
other, whether  the  trees  that  used  to  grow 
in  our  woods  were  larger  than  those  which 
grow  now.  If  they  were'  Homer,  Plato, 
Demosthenes  cannot  be  equalled  in  these 
iges  ;  but  if  our  trees  are  as  large  as  trees 
were  of  old,  then  there  is  no  reason  why 
we  may  not  equal  Homer,  Plato,  and  De- 
mosthenes." The  sophistry  of  this  is 
glaring  enough ;  but  it  was  logic  for  Paris. 
In  the  rest  of  this  short  essay,  there  are 
the  usual  characteristics  of  Fontenelle, 


cool  good  sense,  and  an  incapacity,  by 
natural  privation,  of  feeling  the  highest 
excellence  in  works  of  taste. 

23.  Boileau,  in  observations  annexed  to 
his  translation  of  Longinus,  as  well  Boiieau's 
as  in  a  few  sallies  of  his  poetry,  defence  o/ 
defended  the  great  poets,  especial-  ami<iuity 
ly  Homer  an'd  Pindar,  with  dignity  and 
moderation ;  freely  abandoning  the  cause 
of  antiquity  where  he  felt  it  to  be  unten- 
able. Perrault  replied  with  courage,  a 
quality  meriting  some  praise  where  the 
adversary  was  so  powerful  in  sarcasm  and 
so  little  accustomed  to  spare  it ;  but  the 
controversy  ceased  in  tolerable  friendship. 

24. 'The  knowledge  of  new  accessions 
to  literature  which  its  lovers  First  Reviews, 
demanded  had  hitherto  been  journal  des 
communicated  only  through  ssavai|S- 
the  annual  catalogues  published  at  Frank- 
fort or  other  places.  But  these  lists  of 
title-pages  were  unsatisfactory  to  the 
distant  scholar,  who  sought  to  become 
acquainted  with  the  real  progress  of  learn- 
ing, and  to  know  what  he  might  find  it 
worth  while  to  purchase.  Denis  de  Sallo, 
a  member  of  the  Parliament  of  Paris,  and 
not  wholly  undistinguished  in  literature, 
though  his  other  works  are  not  much  re- 
membered, by  carrying  into  effect  a  happy 
project  of  his  own,  gave  birth,  as  it  were, 
to  a  mighty  spirit,  which  has  grown  up  in 
strength  and  enterprise  till  it  has  become 
the  ruling  power  of  the  literary  world. 
Monday,  the  5th  of  January,  1665,  is  the 
date  of  the  first  number  of  the  first  review, 
the  Journal  des  S9avans,  published  by 
Sallo  unde:  the  name  of  the  Sieur  de 
Hedouville,  which  some  have  said  to  be 
that  of  his  servant.*  It  was  printed  week- 
ly, in  a  duodecimo  or  sextodecimo  form, 
each  number  containing  from  twelve  to 
sixteen  pages.  The  first  book  ever  re- 
viewed (let  us  observe  the  difference  of 
subject  between  that  and  the  last,  what- 
ever the  last  may  be)  was  an  edition  of 
the  works  of-  Victor  Vitensis  and  Vigilius 
Tapsensis,  African  bishops  of  the  fifth 
century,  by  Father  Chiflet,  a  Jesuit. f  The 


*  Camusat,  in  his  Histoire  Cpitique  des  Journaux, 
in  two  volumes,  1734,  which,  notwithstanding  its 
general  title,  is  chiefly  confined  to  the  history  of  the 
Journal  des  Sqavans,  and  wholly  to  such  as  appeared 
in  France,  has  not  been  able  to  clear  up  this  inter- 
esting point ;  for  there  are  not  wanting  those  who 
assert  that  Hedouville  was  the  name  of  an  estate 
belonging  to  Sallo  ;  and  he  is  called  in  some  public 
description,  without  reference  to  the  journal,  Domi- 
nus  de  Sallo  d'Hedouville  in  Parisiensi  curia  senator. 
—Camusat,  i.,  13.  Notwithstanding  this,  there  is 
evidence  that  leads  us  to  the  valet ;  so  that  "  am- 
plius  deliberandum  censep ;  Res  magna  est." 

t  Victoris  Vitensis  et  Vigilii  Tapsensis,  Provincial 
Bisacenae  Episcoporum  Opera,  edente  R.  P.  Chi- 
fletio,  Soc.  Jesu.  Presb.,  in  4to  Divione.  The 


FROM  1650  TO  1700. 


second  is  Spelman's  Glossary.  According 
to  the  prospectus  prefixed  to  the  Journal 
des  Scavans,  it  was  not  designed  for  a 
mere  review,  but  a  literary  miscellany; 
composed,  in  the  first  place,  of  an  exact 
catalogue  of  the  chief  books  which  should 
be  printed  in  Europe;  not  content  with 
the  mere  titles,  as  the  majority  of  bibliog- 
raphers had  hitherto  been,  but  giving  an 
account  of  their  contents,  and  their  value 
to  the  public;  it  was  also  to  contain  a 
necrology  of  distinguished  authors,  an  ac- 
count of  experiments  in  physic  and  chymis- 
try,  and  of  new  discoveries  in  arts  and 
sciences,  with  the  principal  decisions  of 
civil  and  ecclesiastical  tribunals,  the  de- 
crees of  the  Sorbonne  and  other  French 
or  foreign  universities ;  in  short,  whatever 
might  be  interesting  to  men  of  letters. 
We  find,  therefore,  some  piece  of  news, 
more  or  less  of  a  literary  or  scientific 
nature,  subjoined  to  each  number.  Thus, 
in  the  first  number  we  have  a  double- 
headed  child  born  near  Salisbury ;  in  the 
second,  a  question  of  legitimacy  decided 
in  the  Parliament  of  Paris  ;  in  the  third,  an 
experiment  on  a  new  ship  or  boat  con- 
structed by  Sir  William  Petty;  in  the 
fourth,  an  account  of  a  discussion  in  the 
College  of  Jesuits  on  the  nature  of  comets. 
The  scientific  articles,  which  bear  a  large 
proportion  to  the  rest,  are  illustrated  by 
engravings.  It  was  complained  that  the 
Journal  des  S^avans  did  not  pay  much  re- 
gard to  polite  or  amusing  literature ;  and 
this  led  to  the  publication  of  the  Mercure 
Galant,  by  Vise,  which  gave  reviews  of 
poetry  and  of  the  drama. 

25.  Though  the  notices  in  the  Journal 
des  Sgavans  are  very  short,  and  when  they 
give  any  character,  for  the  most  part  of  a 
laudatory  tone,  Sallo  did  not  fail  to  raise 
up  enemies  by  the  mere  assumption  of 
power  which  a  reviewer  is  prone  to  affect. 
Menage,  on  a  work  of  whose  he  had  made 
some  critic-ism,  and  by  no  means,  as  it  ap- 
pears, without  justice,  replied  in  wrath ; 
Patin  and  others  rose  up  as  injured  authors 
against  the  self-erected  censor ;  but  he 
made  more  formidable  enemies  by  some 
rather  blunt  declarations  of  a  Gallican 
feeling,  as  became  a  counsellor  of  the 
Parliament  of  Paris,  against  the  court  of 
Rome ;  and  the  privilege  of  publication 
was  soon  withdrawn  from  Sallo.*  It  is 
said  that  he  had  the  spirit  to  refuse  the 
offer  of  continuing  the  journal  under  a 
previous  censorship ;  and  it  passed  into 

critique,  if  such  it  be,  occupies  but  two  pages  in 
small  duodecimo.  That  on  Spelrnan's  Glossary, 
which  follows,  is  but  in  half  a  page. 


407 


«   Camusat,  p.  28. 
Jesuits. 


Sallo  had  also  attacked  the 


other  hands,  those  of  Gallois,  who  con- 
tinued it  with  great  success.*  It  is  re- 
markable that  the  first  review,  within  a 
few  months  of  its  origin,  was  silenced  for 
assuming  too  imperious  an  authority  over 
literature,  and  for  speaking  evil  of  dignities. 
"In  cunis  jam  Jove  dignus  erat."  The 
Journal  des  Sgavans,  incomparably  the 
most  ancient  of  living  reviews,  is  still  con- 
spicuous for  its  learning,  its  candour,  and 
its  freedom  from  those  stains  of  personal 
and  party  malice  which  deform  more 
popular  works. 

26.  The  path  thus  opened  to  all  that 
could  tempt  a  man  who  made  Reviews  e«- 
writing  his  profession — profit,  tnbiis 
celebrity,  a  perpetual  appearance  Bayle 
in  the  public  eye,  the  facility  of  pouring 
forth  every  scattered  thought  of  his  own, 
the  power  of  revenge  upon  every  ene- 
my— could  not  fail  to  tempt  more  con- 
spicuous men  than  Sallo  or  his  successor 
Gallois.  Two  of  very  high  reputation,  at 
least  of  reputation  that  hence  became  very 
high,  entered  it,  Bayle  and  Le  Clerc.  The 
former,  in  1684,  commenced  a  new  review, 
Nouvelles  de  la  Republique  des  Lettres. 
He  saw  and  was  well  able  to  improve  the 
opportunities  which  periodical  criticism 
furnished  to  a  mind  eminently  qualified 
for  it ;  extensively,  and,  in  some  points, 
deeply  learned ;  full  of  wit,  acuteness,  and 
a  happy  talent  of  writing  in  a  lively  tone, 
without  the  insipidity  of  affected  polite- 
ness. The  scholar  and  philosopher  of 
Rotterdam  had  a  rival  in  some  respects, 
and  ultimately  an  adversary,  in  a  neigh- 
bouring city.  Le  Clerc,  settled  at  ana  Le 
Amsterdam  as  professor  of  belles  fere, 
lettres  and  of  Hebrew  in  the  Arminian 
seminary,  undertook,  in  1686,  at  the  age 
of  twenty-nine,  the  first  of  those  three  cel- 
ebrated series  of  reviews  to  which  he 
owes  so  much  of  his  fame.  This  was  the 
Bibliotheque  Universelle,  in  all  the  early 
volumes  of  which  La  Croze,  a  much  infe- 
rior person,  was  his  coadjutor,  published 
monthly  in  a  very  small  form.  Le  Clerc 
had  afterward  a  disagreement  with  La 
Croze,  and  the  latter  part  of  the  Biblio- 
theque Universelle  (that  after  the  tenth  vol- 
ume) is  chiefly  his  own.  It  ceased  to  be 
published  in  1693,  and  the  Bibliotheque 
Choisie,  which  is,  perhaps,  even  a  more 
known  work  of  Le  Clerc,  did  not  com- 
mence till  1703.  But  the  fulness,  the  va- 
riety, the  judicious  analysis  and  selection, 


*  Eloge  de  Gallois,  par  Fontenelle,  in  the  lat- 
ter's  works,  vol.  v.,  p.  168.  Biographic  Uuiveraelle, 
arts.  Sallo  and  Gallois.  Gallois  is  said  to  have  been 
a  coadjutor  of  Sallo  from  the  beginning,  and  some 
others  are  named  by  Camusat  as  its  contributors, 
among  whom  were  Gomberville  and  Chapelain. 


408 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


sis  well  as  the  value  of  the  original  re- 
marks which  we  find  in  the  Bibliotheque 
Universelle,  render  it  of  signal  utility  to 
those  who  would  embrace  the  literature 
of  that  short,  but  not  unimportant  period 
which  it  illustrates. 

27.  Meantime  a  less  brilliant,  but  by 
Leipsic  no  means  less  erudite  review,  the 
Acts.     Leipsic  Acts,  had  commenced  in 
Germany.     The  first  volume  of  this  series 
was  published  in  1682.     But,  being  writ- 
ten in  Latin,  with  more  regard  to  the  past 
than  to  the  growing  state  of  opinions,  and, 
consequently,  almost  excluding  the  most 
attractive,  and,  indeed,  the  most  impor- 
tant subjects,  with  a  Lutheran  spirit  of 
unchangeable  orthodoxy  in  religion,  and 
with  an  absence  of  anything  like  philoso- 
phy or  even  connected  system  in  erudi- 
tion, it  is  one  of  the  most  unreasonable 
books,  relatively  to  its  utility  in  learning, 
which  has  ever  fallen  into  my  hands.     It- 
aly had  entered  earlier  on  this  critical  ca- 
reer ;  the  Giornale  de'  Litterati  was  begun 
at  Rome  in  1668  ;  the  Giornale  Veneto  de' 
Litterati  at  Venice  in   1671.     They  con- 
tinued for  some  time,  but  with  less  con- 
spicuous reputation  than  those  above  men- 
tioned.    The  Mercure  Savant,  published 
at  Amsterdam  in  1684,  was  an  indifferent 
production,  which  induced  Bayle  to  set  up 
his  own  Nouvelles  de  la  Republique  des 
Lettres  in  opposition  to  it.     Two  reviews 
were  commenced  in  the  German  language 
within  the  seventeenth  century,  and  three 
in  English.     The  first  of  these  latter  was 
the   "  Weekly  Memorials  for  the  Inge- 
nious," London,   1682.     This,  I  believe, 
lasted  but  a  short  time.     It  was  followed 
by  one,  entitled  "  The  Works  of  the  Learn- 
ed," in  1691 ;  and  by  another  "  History  of 
the  Works  of  the  Learned,"  in  1699.     I 
have  met  with  none  of  these,  nor  will  any 
satisfactory  account  of  them,  I  believe,  be 
readily  found.* 

28.  Bayle  had  first  become  known  in 
,       1682,  by  the  Pensees  Diverses  sur 

Thoughts  la  Comete  de  1680  ;  a  work  which 
on  the  I  am  not  sure  that  he  ever  deci- 
Comet.  (jeciiy  surpassed.  Its  purpose  is 
one  hardly  worthy,  we  should  imagine,  to 
employ  him  ;  since  those  who  could  read 
and  reason  were  not  likely  to  be  afraid  of 
comets,  and  those  who  could  do  neither 
would  be  little  the  better  for  his  book. 
But  with  this  ostensible  aim  Bayle  had 
others  in  view ;  it  gave  scope  to  his  keen 
observation  of  mankind,  if  we  may  use  the 
word  observation  for  that  which  he  chiefly 
derived  from  modern  books,  and  to  the 


*  Jugler,  Hist.  Litteraria,  cap.  9.    Bibliotheque 
Universelle,  xiii.,  41. 


calm  philosophy  which  he  professed 
There  is  less  of  the  love  of  paradox,  less 
of  a  cavilling  pyrrhonism,  and,  though 
much  diffuseness,  less  of  pedantry  and 
irrelevant  instances  in  the  Pensees  Diver- 
ses than  in  his  greater  work.  It  exposed 
tlim,  however,  to  controversy ;  Jurieu,  a 
French  minister  in  Holland,  the  champion 
of  Calvinistic  orthodoxy,  waged  a  war 
that  was  only  terminated  with  their  lives  : 
and  Bayle's  defence  of  the  Thoughts  on 
the  Comet  is  full  as  long  as  the  original 
performance,  but  far  less  entertaining. 

29.  He  now  projected  an  immortal  un 
dertaking,  the  Historical  and  Grit-  Hisdic- 
ical  Dictionary.  Moreri,  a  labori-  'ionary. 
ous  scribe,  had  published,  in  1673,  a  kind 
of  encyclopedic  dictionary,  biographical, 
historical,  and  geographical ;  Bayle  pro- 
fessed to  fill  up  the  numerous  deficien- 
cies, and  to  rectify  the  errors  of  this  com- 
piler. It  is  hard  to  place  his  dictionary, 
which  appeared  in  1694,  under  any  distinct 
head  in  a  literary  classification  which  does 
not  make  a  separate  chapter  for  lexicog- 
raphy. It  is  almost  equally  difficult  to 
give  a  general  character  of  this  many- 
coloured  web,  that  great  erudition  and  still 
greater  acuteness  and  strength  of  mind 
wove  for  the  last  years  of  the  seventeenth 
century.  The  learning  of  Bayle  was  co- 
pious, especially  in  what  was  most  espe- 
cially required,  the  controversies,  the  an- 
ecdotes, the  miscellaneous  facts  and  sen- 
tences, scattered  over  the  vast  surface  of 
literature  for  two  preceding  centuries.  In 
that  of  antiquity  he  was  less  profoundly 
versed,  yet  so  quick  in  application  of  his 
classical  stores  that  he  passes  for  even  a 
better  scholar  than  he  was.  His  original 
design  may  have  been  only  to  fill  up  the 
deficiencies  of  Moreri ;  but  a  mind  so  fer- 
tile and  excursive  could  not  be  restrained 
in  such  limits.  We  may  find,  however, 
in  this  an  apology  for  the  numerous  omis- 
sions of  Bayle,  which  would,  in  a  writer 
absolutely  original,  seem  both  capricious 
and  unaccountable.  We  never  can  antici- 
pate with  confidence  that  we  shall  find  any 
name  in  his  dictionary.  The  notes  are 
most  frequently  unconnected  with  the  life 
to  which  they  are  appended  ;  so  that,  un- 
der a  name  uninteresting  to  us,  or  inap- 
posite to  our  purpose,  we  may  be  led  into 
the  richest  vein  of  the  author's  fine  reason- 
ing or  lively  wit.  Bayle  is  admirable  in  ex- 
posing the  fallacies  of  dogmatism,  the  per- 
plexities of  philosophy,  the  weaknesses  of 
those  who  affect  to  guide  the  opinions  of 
mankind.  But,  wanting  the  necessary  con- 
dition of  good  reasoning,  an  earnest  desire 
to  reason  well,  a  moral  rectitude  from 
which  the  love  of  truth  must  spring,  he 


FROM  1650  TO  1700. 


409 


often  avails  himself  of  petty  cavils,  and  be- 
comes dogmatical  in  his  very  doubts.  A 
more  sincere  spirit  of  inquiry  could  not 
have  suffered  a  man  of  his  penetrating  ge- 
nius to  acquiesce,  even  contingently,  in  so 
superficial  a  scheme  as  the  Manichean. 
The  sophistry  of  Bayle,  however,  bears  no 
proportion  to  his  just  and  acute  observa- 
tions. Less  excuse  can  be  admitted  for 
his  indecency,  which  almost  assumes  the 
character  of  monomania,  so  invariably 
does  it  recur,  even  where  there  is  least 
pretext  for  it. 

30.  The  Jugemens  des  Scavans  by  Bail- 
Baiiiet.   let,  published  in  1685  and  1686,  the 
Morhof.  Polyhistor  of  Morhof  in  1689,  are 
certainly  works  of  criticism  as  well  as  of 
bibliography.     But  neither  of  these  wri- 
ters, especially  the  latter,  is  of  much  au- 
thority in  matters  of  taste  ;  their  erudition 
was  very  extensive,  their  abilities  respect- 
able, since  they  were  able  to  produce  such 
useful  and  comprehensive  works ;  but  they 
do  not  greatly  serve  to  enlighten  or  cor- 
rect our  judgments ;   nor  is  the  original 
matter  in  any  considerable  proportion  to 
that  which  they  have  derived  from  others. 
I  have  taken  notice  of  both  these  in  my 
preface. 

31.  France  was  very  fruitful  of  that  mis- 
TheAna   ce^aneous  literature  which,  des- 
ultory and  amusing,  has  the  ad- 
vantage of  remaining  better  in  the  mem- 
ory than  more  systematic  books,  and,  in 
fact,  is  generally  found  to  supply  the  man 
of  extensive  knowledge  with  the  materials 
of  his  conversation,  as  well  as  to  fill  the 
vacancies  of  his  deeper  studies.     The  me- 
moirs, the  letters,   the   travels,  the  dia- 
logues and  essays,  which  might  be  ranged 
in  so  large  a  class  as  that  we  now  pass 
'.n  review,  are  too  numerous  to  be  men- 
tioned, and  it  must  be  understood  that 
most  of  them  are  less  in   request   even 
among  the  studious  than  they  were  in  the 
last  century.     One  group  has  acquired  the 
distinctive   name   of  Ana ;    the  reported 
conversation,  tho  table-talk  of  the  learned. 
Several  belong  to  the  last  part  of  the  six- 
teenth century,  or  the  first  of  the  next ; 
the  Scaligerana,the  Perroniana,  the  Pithae- 
ana,  the   Naudaeana,  the  Casauboniana ; 
the  last  of  which  are  not  conversational, 
but  fragments  collected  from  the  common- 
place books  and  loose  papers  of  Isaac  Ca- 
saubon.     Two  collections  of  the  present 
period  are  very  well  known,  the  Menagi- 
ana,  and  the  Melanges  de  Litterature  par 
Vigneul-Marville ;   which  differs,  indeed, 
from  the   rest  in  not  being  reported  by 
others,  but  published  by  the  author  him- 
self; yet  comes  so  near  in  spirit  and  man- 
ner, that  we  may  place  it  in  the  same  class. 

VOL.  II.— 3  F 


The  Menagiana  has  the  common  fault  of 
these  Ana,  that  it  rather  disappoints  ex- 
pectation, and  does  not  give  us  as  much 
new  learning  as  the  name  of  its  author 
seems  to  promise  ;  but  it  is  amusing,  full 
of  light  anecdote  of  a  literary  kind,  and 
interesting  to  all  who  love  the  recollec- 
tions of  that  generation.  Vigneul-Mar- 
ville is  an  imaginary  person;  the  author 
of  the  Melanges  de  Litterature  is  D'Ar- 
gonne,  a  Benedictine  of  Rouen.  This 
book  has  been  much  esteemed ;  the  mask 
gives  courage  to  the  author,  who  writes, 
not  unlike  a  Benedictine,  but  with  a  gen- 
eral tone  of  independent  thinking,  united 
to  good  judgment  and  a  tolerably  exten- 
sive knowledge  of  the  state  of  literature. 
He  had  entered  into  the  religious  profes- 
sion rather  late  in  life.  The  Chevraeana 
and  Segraisiana,  especially  the  latter,  are 
of  little  value.  The  Parrhasiana  of  Le 
Clerc  are  less  amusing  and  less  miscel- 
laneous than  some  of  the  Ana;  but  in  all 
his  writings  there  is  a  love  of  truth  and  a 
zeal  against  those  who  obstruct  inquiry, 
which  to  congenial  spirits  is  as  pleasing 
as  it  is  sure  to  render  him  obnoxious  to 
opposite  tempers. 

32.  The  characteristics  of  English  wri- 
ters in  the  first  division  of  the  English 
century  were  not  maintained  in  style  in  ibis 
the  second,  though  the  change,  as  i*"0*1- 
was  natural,  did  not  come  on  by  very  rap- 
id strides.  The  pedantry  of  unauthorized 
Latinisms,  the  affectation  of  singular  and 
not  generally  intelligible  words  from  oth- 
er sources,  the  love  of  quaint  phrases, 
strange  analogies,  and  ambitious  efforts  at 
antithesis,  gave  way  by  degrees ;  a  greater 
ease  of  writing  was  what  the  public  de- 
manded, and  what  the  writers  after  the 
Restoration  sought  to  attain ;  they  were 
more  strictly  idiomatic  and  English  than 
their  predecessors.  But  this  ease  some- 
times became  negligence  and  feebleness, 
and  often  turned  to  coarseness  and  vul- 
garity. The  language  of  Sevignfe  and 
Hamilton  is  eminently  colloquial ;  scarce 
a  turn  occurs  in  their  writings  which  they 
would  not  have  used  in  familiar  society  ; 
but  theirs  was  the  colloquy  of  the  gods, 
ours  of  men  ;  their  idiom,  though  still  sim- 
ple and  French,  had  been  refined  in  the 
saloons  of  Paris  by  that  instinctive  re- 
jection of  all  that  is  low  which  the  fine 
tact  of  accomplished  women  dictates; 
while  in  our  own  contemporary  writers, 
with  little  exception,  there  is  what  defaces 
the  dialogue  of  our  comedy,  a  tone  not  so 
much  of  provincialism,  or  even  of  what  is 
called  the  language  of  the  common  peo- 
ple, as  of  one  much  worse,  the  dregs  of 
vulgar  ribaldry,  which  a  gentleman  must 


410 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


clear  from  his  conversation  before  he  can 
assert  that  name.  Nor  was  this  confined 
to  those  who  led  irregular  lives  ;  the  gen- 
eral manners  being  unpolished,  we  find  in 
the  writings  of  the  clergy,  wherever  they 
are  polemic  or  satirical,  the  same  tenden- 
cy to  what  is  called  slang ;  a  word  which, 
as  itself  belongs  to  the  vocabulary  it  de- 
notes, I  use  with  some  unwillingness. 
The  pattern  of  bad  writing  in  this  respect 
was  Sir  Roger  L'Estrange ;  his  ^Esop's 
Fables  will  present  everything  that  is  hos- 
tile to  good  taste ;  yet,  by  a  certain  wit 
and  readiness  in  raillery,  L'Estrange  was 
a  popular  writer,  and  may  even  now  be 
read,  perhaps,  with  some  amusement. 
The  translation  of  Don  Quixote,  published 
in  1682,  may  also  be  specified  as  incredi- 
bly vulgar,  and  without  the  least  percep- 
tion of  the  tone  which  the  original  author 
has  preserved. 

33.  We  can  produce,  nevertheless,  sev- 
Hobbes   era^  names  °f  those  who  laid  the 

foundations  at  least,  and,  indeed, 
furnished  examples,  of  good  style ;  some 
of  them  among  the  greatest,  for  other 
merits,  in  our  literature.  Hobbes  is  per- 
haps the  first  of  whom  we  can  say  that 
he  is  a  good  English  writer ;  for  the  ex- 
cellent passages  of  Hooker,  Sidney,  Ra- 
leigh, Bacon,  Taylor,  Chillingworth,  and 
others  of  the  Elizabethan  or  the  first  Stu- 
art period,  are  not  sufficient  to  establish 
their  claim ;  a  good  writer  being  one 
whose  composition  is  nearly  uniform,  and 
who  never  sinks  to  such  inferiority  or 
negligence  as  we  must  confess  in  most  of 
these.  To  make  such  a  writer,  the  ab- 
sence of  gross  fault  is  full  as  necessary 
as  actual  beauties  ;  we  are  not  judging  as 
of  poets,  by  the  highest  flight  of  their  ge- 
nius, and  forgiving  all  the  rest,  but  as  of 
a  sum  of  positive  and  negative  quantities, 
where  the  latter  counterbalance  and  efface 
an  equal  portion  of  the  former.  Hobbes 
is  clear,  precise,  spirited,  and,  above  all, 
free,  in  general,  from  the  faults  of  his  pred- 
ecessors ;  his  language  is  sensibly  less 
obsolete ;  he  is  never  vulgar,  rarely,  if 
ever,  quaint  or  pedantic. 

34.  Cowley's    prose,  very  unlike    his 

verse,  as  Johnson  has  observed,  is 

uowley.  j  /«•     .     i        ... 

perspicuous  and  unaffected.  His 
few  essays  may  even  be  reckoned  among 
the  earliest  models  of  good  writing.  In 
that,  especially,  on  the  death  of  Crom- 
well, till,  losing  his  composure,  he  falls  a 
little  into  the  vulgar  style  towards  the 
close,  we  find  an  absence  of  pedantry,  an 
ease  and  graceful  choice  of  idiom,  an  un- 
studied harmony  of  periods,  which  had 
been  perceived  in  very  few  writers  of  the 
two  preceding  reigns.  "  His  thoughts," 


says  Johnson,  "  are  natural,  and  his  style 
has  a  smooth  and  placid  equability  which 
has  never  yet  obtained  its  due  commenda- 
tion. Nothing  is  far-sought  or  hard-la- 
boured ;  but  all  is  easy  without  feeble- 
ness, and  familiar  without  grossness." 

35.  Evelyn  wrote,  in  1651,  a  little  piece, 
purporting  to  be  an  account  of  Eng-  Eyel  .^ 
land  by  a  Frenchman.     It  is  very 
severe  on  our  manners,  especially  in  Lon- 
don ;  his  abhorrence  of  the  late  revolu- 
tions in  church  and  state  conspiring  with 
his  natural  politeness,  which  he  had  lately 
improved  by  foreign  travel.     It  is  worth 
reading  as  illustrative  of  social  history ; 
but  I  chiefly  mention  it  here  on  account 
of  the  polish  and  gentlemanly  elegance 
of  the  style,  which  very  few  had  hitherto 
regarded  in  such  light  compositions.     An 
answer  by  some  indignant  patriot  has  been 
reprinted  together  with  this  pamphlet  of 
Evelyn,  and  is  a  good  specimen  of  the 
bestial  ribaldry  which  our  ancestors  seem 
to  have  taken  for  wit.*     The  later  wri- 
tings of  Evelyn  are  such  as  his  character 
and  habits  would  lead  us  to  expect,  but  I 
am  not  aware  that  they  often  rise  above 
that  respectable  level,  nor  are  their  sub- 
jects such  as  to  require  an  elevated  style. 

36.  Every  poem  and  play  of  Dryden,  as 
they  successively  appeared,  was    Dr  den 
ushered  into  the  world  by  those 
prefaces  and  dedications  which  have  made 
him  celebrated  as  a  critic  of  poetry  and  a 
master  of  the  English  language.      The 
Essay  on  Dramatic  Poetry,  and  its  subse- 
quent Defence,  the  Origin  and  Progress 
of   Satire,   the    Parallel   of    Poetry   and 
Painting,  the  Life  of  Plutarch,  and  other 
things  of  minor  importance,  all  prefixed 
to  some  more  extensive  work,  complete 
the  catalogue  of  his  prose.     The  style  of 
Dryden  was  very  superior  to   any  that 
England  had  seen.     Not  conversant  with 
our  old  writers,  so  little,  in  fact,  as  to  find 
the  common  phrases  of  the  Elizabethan 
age  unintelligible,!  he  followed  the  taste 
of  Charles's  reign,  in  emulating  the  poli- 
test   and    most    popular   writers   in   the 
French   language.      He    seems   to   have 
formed  himself  on  Montaigne,  Balzac,  and 
Voiture  ;  but  so  ready  was  his  invention, 
so  vigorous  his  judgment,  so  complete  his 
mastery  over  his  native  tongue,  that,  in 
point  of  style,  he  must  be  reckoned  above 
all  the  three.     He  had  the  ease  of  Mon- 


Both  these  will  be  found  in  the  late  edition  Oi 
Evelyn's  Miscellaneous  Works. 

t  Malone  has  given  several  proofs  of  this. — 
Dryden's  Prose  Works,  vol.  i.,  part  2,  p.  136,  et 
alibi.  Dryden  thought  expressions  wrong  and  in- 
;orrect  in  Shakspeare  and  Jonson,  which  were  the 
;urrent  language  of  their  age. 


FROM  1650  TO  1700. 


411 


taigne,  without  his  negligence  and  embar- 
rassed structure  of  periods  ;  he  had  the 
dignity  of  Balzac,  with  more  varied  caden- 
ces, and  without  his  hyperbolical  tumour ; 
the  unexpected  turns  of  Voiture,  without 
his  affectation  and  air  of  effort.  In  the 
dedications,  especially,  we  find  paragraphs 
of  extraordinary  gracefulness,  such  as  pos- 
sibly have  never  been  surpassed  in  our 
language.  The  prefaces  are  evidently 
written  in  a  more  negligent  style ;  he 
seems,  like  Montaigne,  to  converse  with 
the  reader  from  his  armchair,  and  passes 
onward  with  little  connexion  from  one 
subject  to  another.*  In  addressing  a  pa- 
tron, a  different  line  is  observable ;  he 
comes  with  the  respectful  air  which  the 
occasion  seems  to  demand ;  but,  though 
I  do  not  think  that  Dryden  ever,  in  lan- 
guage, forgets  his  own  position,  we  must 
confess  that  the  flattery  is  sometimes  pal- 
pably untrue,  and  always  offensively  in- 
delicate. The  dedication  of  the  Mock 
Astrologer  to  the  Duke  of  Newcastle  is  a 
masterpiece  of  fine  writing ;  and  the  sub- 
ject better  deserved  these  lavish  com- 
mendations than  most  who  received  them. 
That  of  the  State  of  Innocence  to  the 
Duchess  of  York  is  also  very  well  writ- 
ten, but  the  adulation  is  excessive.  It 
appears  to  me  that,  after  the  Revolution, 
Dryden  took  less  pains  with  his  style  ; 
the  colloquial  vulgarisms — and  these  are 
not  wanting  even  in  his  earlier  prefaces — 
become  more  frequent ;  his  periods  are 
often  of  more  slovenly  construction  ;  he 
forgets,  even  in  his  dedications,  that  he  is 
standing  before  a  lord.  Thus,  remarking 
on  the  account  Andromache  gives  to  Hec- 
tor of  her  own  history,  he  observes,  in  a 
style  rather  unworthy  of  him,  "  The  devil 
was  in  Hector  if  he  knew  not  all  this  mat- 
ter as  well  as  she  who  told  it  him,  for  she 
had  been  his  bedfellow  for  many  years  to- 
gether ;  and,  if  he  knew  it  then,  it  must  be 
confessed  that  Homer,  in  this  long  digres- 
sion, has  rather  given  us  his  own  character 
than  that  of  the  fair  lady  whom  he  paints."f 
37.  His  Essay  on  Dramatic  Poesy,  pub- 
His  Essay  lished  in  1668,  was  reprinted  six- 
on  Drarnat-  teen  years  afterward,  and  it  is 
ic  Poesy.  curious  to  observe  the  changes 
which  Dryden  made  in  the  expression. 
Malone  has  carefully  noted  all  these ; 
they  show  both  the  care  the  author  took 
with  his  own  style,  and  the  change  which 
was  gradually  working  in  the  English  lan- 


*  This  is  his  own  account.  "  The  nature  of  a 
preface  is  rambling,  never  wholly  out  of  the  way, 
nor  in  it.  ...  This  I  have  learned  from  the  practice 
of  honest  Montaigne."— Vol.  iii.,  p.  605. 

t  Vol.  iii.,  p.  286.  This  is  in  the  dedication  of 
his  third  Miscellany  to  Lord  Ratcliffe. 


guage.*  The  Anglicism  of  terminating 
the  sentence  with  a  preposition  is  reject- 
ed, f  Thus,  "  I  cannot  think  so  con- 
temptibly of  the  age  I  live  in,"  is  ex- 
changed "  for  the  age  in  which  I  live." 
"  A  deeper  expression  of  belief  than  all 
the  actor  can  persuade  us  to,"  is  altered, 
"  can  insinuate  into  us."  And,  though 
the  old  form  continued  in  use  long  after 
the  time  of  Dryden,  it  has  of  late  years 
been  reckoned  inelegant,  and  proscribed 
in  all  cases,  perhaps  with  an  unnecessary 
fastidiousness,  to  which  I  have  not  uni- 
formly deferred ;  since  our  language  is  of 
a  Teutonic  structure,  and  the  rules  of  Latin 
or  French  grammar  are  not  always  to  bind 
us. 

38.  This  Essay  on  Dramatic  Poesy  is 
written  in  dialogue ;  Dryden  him-  ]mprove- 
self,  under  the  name  of  Neander,  mems  in 
being  probably  one  of  the  speakers.  hl 

It  turns  on  the  use  of  rhyme  in  tragedy, 
on  the  observation  of  the  unities,  and  on 
some  other  theatrical  questions.  Dryden, 
at  this  time,  was  favourable  to  rhymed 
tragedies,  which  his  practice  supported. 
Sir  Robert  Howard,  having  written  some 
observations  on  that  essay,  and  taken  a 
different  view  as  to  rhyme,  Dryden  pub- 
lished a  defence  of  his  essay  in  a  master- 
ly style  of  cutting  scorn,  but  one  hardly 
justified  by  the  tone  of  the  criticism,  which 
had  been  very  civil  towards  him  ;  and,  as 
he  -was  apparently  in  the  wrong,  the  air  of 
superiority  seems  the  more  misplaced. 

39.  Dryden,  as  a  critic,  is  not  to  be  num- 
bered with  those  who  have  sound-  ins  critical 
ed  the  depths  of  the  human  mind,  character, 
hardly  with  those  who  analyze  the  lan- 
guage and  sentiments  of  poets,  and  teach 
others  to  judge  by  showing  why  they  have 
judged  themselves.     He  scatters  remarks, 
sometimes  too  indefinite,  sometimes  too 
arbitrary;    yet  his    predominating  good 
sense  colours  the  whole  ;  we  find  in  them 
no  perplexing  subtlety,  no  cloudy  non- 
sense, no  paradoxes  and  heresies  in  taste 


*  Vol.  i.,  p.  136-142. 

t  "  The  preposition  in  the  end  of  the  sentence,  a 
common  fault  with  him  (Ben  Jonson),  nnd  which  I 
have  hut  lately  observed  in  my  own  writings,"  p. 
237.  The  form  is,  in  tny  opinion,  sometimes  em- 
phatic and  spirited,  though  its  frequent  use  appears 
slovenly.  1  remember  my  late  friend,  Mr.  Richard 
Sharp,  whose  good  taste  is  well  known,  used  to 
quote  an  interrogatory  of  Hooker:  "  Shall  there  be 
a  God  to  swear  by,  and  none  to  pray  to  ?"  as  an  in- 
stance of  the  force  which  this  arrangement,  so  emi- 
nently idiomatic,  sometimes  gives.  It  is  unneces- 
sary to  say  that  it  is  derived  from  the  German ;  and 
nothing  but  Latin  prejudice  can  make  us  think  i 
essentially  wrong.  In  the  passive  voice,  I  think  it 
better  than  in  the  active  ;  nor  can  it  always  be  dis- 
pensed with,  unless  we  choose  rather  the  leeble, 
encumbering  pronoun  which. 


412 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


to  revolt  us.  Those  he  has  made  on  trans- 
lation in  the  preface  to  that  of  Ovid's  Epis- 
tles are  valuable.  "No  man,"  he  says, 
"  is  capable  of  translating  poetry,  who,  be- 
sides a  genius  to  that  art,  is  not  a  master 
both  of  his  author's  language  and  of  his 
own.  Nor  must  we  understand  the  lan- 
guage only  of  the  poet,  but  his  particular 
turn  of  thoughts  and  expression,  which 
are  the  characters  that  distinguish,  and,  as 
it  were,  individuate  him  from  all  other  wri- 
ters."* We  cannot  pay  Dryden  the  com- 
pliment of  saying  that  he  gave  the  exam- 
ple as  well  as  precept,  especially  in  his 
Virgil.  He  did  not  scruple  to  copy  Se- 
grais  in  his  discourse  on  Epic  Poetry. 
"  Him  I  follow,  and  what  I  borrow  from 
him  am  ready  to  acknowledge  to  him  ;  for, 
impartially  speaking,  the  French  are  as 
much  better  critics  than  the  English  as 
they  are  worse  poets. "f 

40.  The  greater  part  of  his  critical  wri- 
tings relate  to  the  drama,  a  subject  with 
which  he  was  very  conversant;  but  he 
had    some   considerable   prejudices ;    he 
seems  never  to  have  felt  the  transcendent 
excellence  of  Shakspeare ;  and  sometimes, 
perhaps,  his  own  opinions,  if  not  feigned, 
are  biased  by  that  sort  of  self-defence  to 
which  he  thought  himself  driven  in  the 
prefaces  to  his   several  plays.     He  had 
many  enemies  on  the  watch ;   the  Duke 
of  Buckingham's  Rehearsal,  a  satire   of 
great  wit,  had  exposed  to  ridicule  the  he- 
roic tragedies,^  and  many  were  afterward 
ready  to  forget  the  merits  of  the  poet  in 
the  delinquencies  of  the  politician.    "  What 
Virgil  wrote,"  he  says,  "  in  the  vigour  of 
his  age,  in  plenty  and  in  ease,  I  have  un- 
dertaken   to    translate    in    my   declining 
years ;   struggling  with  wants,  oppressed 
by  sickness,  curbed  in  my  genius,  liable  to 
be  misconstrued  in  all  I  write,  and  my 
judges,  if  they  are  not  very  equitable,  al- 
ready prejudiced  against  me  by  the  lying 
character  which  has  been  given  them  of 
my  morals. "$ 

41.  Dryden  will  hardly  be  charged  with 
abandoning  too  hastily  our  national  credit, 


*  Vol.  iii ,  p.  19. 

t  P.  460.  The  quotations  in  this  paragraph  pre- 
sent two  instances  of  the  word  to  in  an  unauthor- 
ized usage;  the  second  is  a  Gallicism;  but  the  first 
has  not  even  that  excuse. 

t  This  comedy  was  published  in  1672 ;  the  paro- 
dies are  amusing  ;  and,  though  parody  is  the  most 
unfair  weapon  that  ridicule  can  use,  they  are,  in 
most  instances,  warranted  by  the  original.  Bayes, 
whether  he  resembles  Dryden  or  not,  is  a  very  com- 
ic personage  :  the  character  is  said  by  Johnson  to 
have  been  sketched  for  Davenant ;  but  I  much  doubt 
this  report :  Davenant  had  been  dead  some  years 
before  the  Rehearsal  was  published,  and  could  have 
been  in  no  way  obnoxious  to  its  satire. 

$  Vol.  iii.,  p.  557. 


when  he  said  the  French  were  bet-  Rymer  on 
ter  critics  than  the  English.  We  Tragedy. 
had  scarcely  anything  worthy  of  notice  to 
allege  beyond  his  own  writings.  The 
Theatrum  Poetarum  by  Philips,  nephew 
of  Milton,  is  superficial  in  every  respect. 
Thomas  Rymer,  best  known  to  mankind 
as  the  editor  of  the  Fredera,  but  a  strenu- 
ous advocate  for  the  Aristotelian  princi- 
ples in  the  drama,  published  in  1678  "  The 
Tragedies  of  the  last  Age  considered  and 
examined  by  the  Practice  of  the  Ancients, 
and  by  the  Common  Sense  of  all  Ages." 
This  contains  a  censure  of  some  plays  of 
Beaumont  and  Fletcher,  Shakspeare,  and 
Jonson.  "  I  have  chiefly  considered  the 
fable  or  plot,  which  all  conclude  to  be  the 
soul  of  tragedy,  which,  with  the  ancients, 
is  always  found  to  be  a  reasonable  soul, 
but  with  us,  for  the  most  part,  a  brutish, 
and  often  worse  than  brutish."*  I  have 
read  only  his  criticisms  on  the  Maid's 
Tragedy,  King  and  No  King,  and  Rollo ; 
and  as  the  conduct  and  characters  of  all 
three  are  far  enough  from  being  invulner- 
able, it  is  not  surprising  that  Ryrner  has 
often  well  exposed  them. 

42.  Next  to  Dryden,  the  second  place 
among  the  polite  writers  of  the  sirwuiiam 
period  from  the  Restoration  to  Temple's 
the  end  of  the  century  has  com-  E 
monly  been  given  to  Sir  William  Temple. 
His  Miscellanies,  to  which  principally  this 
praise  belongs,  are  not  recommended  by 
more  erudition  than  a  retired  statesman 
might  acquire  with  no  great  expense  of 
time  nor  by  much  originality  of  reflection. 
But,  if  Temple  has  not  profound  knowl- 
edge, he  turns  all  he  possesses  well  to  ac- 
count ;  if  his  thoughts  are  not  very  stri- 
king, they  are  commonly  just.     He  has 
less  eloquence  than  Bolingbroke,  but  is 
also  free  from  his  restlessness  and  osten- 
tation.    Much  also,  which  now  appears 
superficial  in  Temple's  historical  surveys, 
was  far  less  familiar  in  his  age ;  he  has 
the  merit  of  a  comprehensive  and  a  candid 
mind.     His  style,  to  which  we  should  par- 
ticularly refer,  will  be  found,  in  comparison 
with  his  contemporaries,  highly  polished, 
and  sustained  with  more  equability  than 
they  preserve,  remote  from  anything  ei- 
ther pedantic  or  humble.     The  periods  are 
studiously  rhythmical,  yet  they  want  the 
variety  and  peculiar  charm  that  we  admire 
in  those  of  Dryden. 

43.  Locke  is  certainly  a  good  writer, 
relatively  to  the  greater  part  of  his  style  of 
contemporaries ;  his  plain  and  man-  Locke, 
ly  sentences  often  give  us  pleasure  by  the 
wording  alone.    But  he  has  some  defects  : 


*  P.  4. 


FROM  1650  TO  1700. 


413 


m  his  Essay  on  the  Human  Understand- 
ing he  is  often  too  figurative  for  the  sub- 
ject. In  all  his  writings,  and  especially 
in  the  Treatise  on  Education,  he  is  occa- 
isonally  negligent;  and,  though  not  vul- 
gar, at  least  according  to  the  idiom  of  his 
age,  slovenly  in  the  structure  of  his  sen- 
tences as  well  as  the  choice  of  his  words  ; 
he  is  not,  in  mere  style,  very  forcible,  and 
certainly  not  very  elegant. 

44.  The  Essays  of  Sir  George  Macken- 
Sir  George    z^e  are  empty  and  diffuse  ;  the 
Mackenzie's  style  is  full  of  pedantic  words 
Essays.        to  a  degree  of  barbarism  ;  and, 
though  they  were  chiefly  written  after  the 
Revolution,  he    seems   to   have   wholly 
formed  himself  on  the  older  writers,  such 
as  Sir  Thomas  Browne,  or  even  Feltham. 
He  affects  the  obsolete  and   unpleasing 
termination  of  the  third  person  of  the  verb 
in  eth,  which  was  going  out  of  use  even  in 
the  pulpit,  besides  other  rust  of  archaism. 
Nothing  can  be  more  unlike  the  manner 
of  Dryden,  Locke,  or  Temple.     In  his 
matter  he  seems  a  mere  declaimer,  as  if 
the  world  would  any  longer  endure  the 
trivial  morality  which  the  sixteenth  cen- 
tury had  borrowed  from  Seneca,  or  the 
dull  ethics  of  sermons.     It  is  probable 
that,  as  Mackenzie  was  a  man  who  had 
seen  and  read  much,  he  must  have  some 
better  passages  than  I  have  found  in  glan- 
cing shortly  at  his  works.     His  country- 
Andrew    man,  Andrew  Fletcher,  is  a  better 
Fletcher,  master  of  English  style  ;  he  writes 
with  purity,  clearness,  and  spirit ;  but  the 
subject  is  so  much  before  his  eyes  that 
he  is  little  solicitous  about  language.    And 
a  similar  character  may  be  given  to  many 
of  the  political  tracts  in  the  reign  of  Will- 
iam.    They  are  well  expressed  for  their 
purpose ;   their   English    is   perspicuous, 
unaffected,  often  forcible,  and,  upon  the 
whole,  much  superior  to  that  of  similar 
writings  in  the  reign  of  Charles ;  but  they 
do  not  challenge  a  place  of  which  their 
authors  never  dreamed  ;  they  are  not  to  be 
counted  in  the  polite  literature  of  England. 

45.  I  may  have  overlooked,  or  even 
never  known,  some   books  of  sufficient 
value  to  deserve  mention ;  and  I  regret 
that  the  list  of  miscellaneous  literature 
should  be  so  short.     But  it  must  be  con- 
fessed that  our  golden  age  did  not  begin 
before  the  eighteenth  century,  and  then 
with  him  who  has  never  since  been  rival- 
led in  grace,  humour,  and  invention.    Wal- 
waiton-s  ton's  Complete  Angler,  published 
r-ompiete  in  1653,  seems  by  the  title  a  strange 
Angler.     cnoice  Out  of  all  the  books  of  half 
a  century;  yet  its  simplicity,  its  sweet- 
ness, its  natural  grace,  and  happy  inter- 
mixture of  graver  strains  with  the  pre- 


cepts of  angling,  have  rendered  this  book 
deservedly  popular,  and  a  model  which 
one  of  the  most  famous  among  our  late 
philosophers,  and  a  successful  disciple  of 
Isaac  Walton  in  his  favourite  art,  has  con- 
descended to  imitate. 

46.  A  book,  not,  indeed,  remarkable  for 
its  style,  but  one  which  I  could  wnkins's 
hardly  mention  in  any  less  mis-  New  world, 
cellaneous  chapter  than  the  present, 
though,  since  it  was  published  in  1638,  it 
ought  to  have  been  mentioned  before,  is 
Wilkins's  "  Discovery  of  a  New  World, 
or  a  Discourse  tending  to  prove  that  it  is 
probable  there  may  be  another  habitable 
World  in  the  Moon,  with  a  Discourse  con- 
cerning the  Possibility  of  a  Passage  thith- 
er." This  is  one  of  the  births  of  that  in- 
quiring spirit,  that  disdain  of  ancient  prej- 
udice, which  the  seventeenth  century  pro- 
duced. Bacon  was  undoubtedly  the  father 
of  it  in  England ;  but  Kepler,  and,  above 
all,  Galileo,  by  the  new  truths  they  de- 
monstrated, made  men  fearless  in  investi- 
gation and  conjecture.  The  geographical 
discoveries,  indeed,  of  Columbus  and  Ma- 
gellan had  prepared  the  way  for  conjec- 
tures hardly  more  astonishing  in  the  eyes 
of  the  vulgar  than  those  had  been.  Wil- 
kins  accordingly  begins  by  bringing  a  host 
of  sage  writers  who  had  denied  the  exist- 
ence of  antipodes.  He  expressly  main- 
tains the  Copernican  theory,  but  admits 
that  it  was  generally  reputed  a  novel  par- 
adox. The  arguments  on  the  other  side 
he  meets  at  some  length,  and  knew  how 
to  answer,  by  the  principles  of  compound 
motion,  the  plausible  objection  that  stones 
falling  from  a  tower  were  not  left  behind 
by  the  motion  of  the  earth.  The  spots  in 
the  moon  he  took  for  sea,  and  the  brighte? 
parts  for  land.  A  lunar  atmosphere  he 
was  forced  to  hold,  and  gives  reasons  for 
thinking  it  probable.  As  to  inhabitants, 
he  does  not  dwell  long  on  the  subject. 
Carnpanella,  and,  long  before  him,  Cardi- 
nal Cusanus,  had  believed  the  sun  and 
moon  to  be  inhabited  ;*  and  Wilkins  ends 
by  saying,  "  Being  content,  for  my  own 
part,  to  have  spoken  so  much  of  it  as  may 
conduce  to  show  the  opinion  of  others 
concerning  the  inhabitants  of  the  moon,  I 
dare  not  myself  affirm  anything  of  these 
Selenites,  because  I  know  not  any  ground 
whereon  to  build  any  probable  opinion. 
But  I  think  that  future  ages  will  discover 


*  Suspicamur  in  regione  soils  magis  ease  solares, 
claros  el  illuminates  intellectuales  habitatores,  spir- 
itualiores  etiam  quam  in  lima,  ubi  magis  Innatici, 
et  in  terra  magis  materials  et  crassi,  ut  illi  intel- 
lectualis  naturae  solares  sint  multum  in  actu  et  pa- 
rum  in  potentia,  terreni  vero  magis  in  potentia  et 
parum  in  actu,  lunares  in  medio  fluctuantes,  &c. — 
Cusanus  apud  Wilkins,  p.  103  (edit.  1802). 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


more,  and  our  posterity,  perhaps,  may  in- 
vent some  means  for  our  better  acquaint- 
ance with  those  inhabitants."  To  this  he 
comes  as  his  final  proposition,  that  it  may 
be  possible  for  some  of  our  posterity  to 
find  out  a  conveyance  to  this  other  world ; 
and,  if  there  be  inhabitants  there,  to  have 
communication  with  them.  But  this  chap- 
ter is  the  worst  in  the  book,  and  shows 
that  Wilkins,  notwithstanding  his  ingenu- 
ity, had  but  crude  notions  on  the  princi- 
ples of  physics.  He  followed  this  up  by 
what  I  have  not  seen,  a  "  Discourse  con- 
cerning a  new  planet ;  tending  to  prove 
that  it  is  possible  our  earth  is  one  of  the 
planets."  This  appears  to  be  a  regular 
vindication  of  the  Copernican  theory,  and 
was  published  in  1640. 

47.  The  cause  of  antiquity,  so  rudely  as- 
Antiquity  sailed  abroad  by  Perrault  and 
defended  by  Fontenelle,  found  support  in  Sir 
'empie.  William  Temple,  who  has  de- 
fended it  in  one  of  his  essays  with  more 
zeal  than  prudence  or  knowledge  of  the 
various  subjects  on  which  he  contends  for 
the  rights  of  the  past.  It  was,  in  fact,  such 
a  credulous  and  superficial  view  as  might 
have  been  taken  by  a  pedant  of  the  six- 
teenth century.  For  it  is  in  science,  ta- 
king the  word  largely,  full  as  much  as  in 
works  of  genius,  that  he  denies  the  an- 
cients to  have  been  surpassed.  Temple's 
Essay,  however,  was  translated  into 
French,  and  he  was  supposed  by  many  to 
have  made  a  brilliant  vindication  of  in- 
jured antiquity.  But  it  was  soon  refuted 
in  the  most  solid  book  that  was  written  in 
any  country  upon  this  famous  dispute. 
Wotton's  William  Wotton  published  in 
Reflections.  1694  hjs  Reflections  on  ancient 
and  modern  Learning.*  He  draws  very 
well  in  this  the  line  between  Temple  and 
Perrault,  avoiding  the  tasteless  judgment 
of  the  latter  in  poetry  and  eloquence,  but 
pointing  out  the  superiority  of  the  mod- 
erns in  the  whole  range  of  physical  sci- 
ence. 


SECT.  II.     ON  FICTION. 

French  Romances. — La  Fayette  and  others. — Pil- 
grim's Progress. — Turkish  Spy. 

48.  SPAIN  had,  about  the  middle  of  this 


*  Wotton  had  been  a  boy  of  astonishing  precoci 
tj  ;  at  six  years  old  he  could  readily  translate  Latin, 
Greek,  and  Hebrew ;  at  seven  he  added  some 
knowledge  of  Arabic  and  Syriac.  He  entered 
Catharine  Hall,  Cambridge,  in  his  tenth  year;  at 
thirteen,  when  he  took  the  degree  of  bachelor  of 
arts,  he  was  acquainted  with  twelve  languages. 
There  being  no  precedent  of  granting  a  degree  to 
one  so  young,  a  special  record  of  his  extraordinary 
proficiency  was  made  in  the  registers  of  the  uni- 
versity.— Monk's  Life  of  Bentley,  p.  7. 


century,  a  writer  of  various  liter- 
ature,  who  is  only  known  in  Eu-  visions, 
rope  by  his  fictions,  Quevedo.  His  vis- 
ions and  his  life  of  the  great  Tacaiio  were 
early  translated,  and  became  very  popu- 
lar.* They  may  be  reckoned  superior  to 
anything  in  comic  romance,  except  Don 
Quixote,  that  the  seventeenth  century  pro- 
duced ;  and  yet  this  commendation  is  not 
a  high  one.  In  the  picaresque  style,  the 
life  of  Tacano  is  tolerably  amusing  ;  but 
Quevedo,  like  others,  has  long  since  been 
surpassed.'  The  Suenos,  or  Visions,  are 
better;  they  show  spirit  and  sharpness, 
with  some  originality  of  invention.  But 
Las  Zahurdas  de  Pluton,  which,  like  the 
other  suenos,  bears  a  general  resemblance 
to  the  Pilgrim's  Progress,  being  an  alle- 
gorical dream,  is  less  powerfully  and 
graphically  written ;  the  satire  is  also 
rather  too  obvious.  "  Lucian,"  says  Bou- 
terwek,  "  furnished  him  with  the  original 
idea  of  satirical  visions ;  but  Quevedo'^ 
were  the  first  of  their  kind  in  modern  lit- 
erature. Owing  to  frequent  imitations, 
their  faults  are  no  longer  disguised  by  the 
charm  of  novelty,  and  even  their  merits 
have  ceased  to  interest."! 

49.  No  species  of  composition  seems 
less  adapted  to  the  genius  of  the  French  hero- 
French  nation  in  the  reign  of  ic  romances. 
Louis  XIV.  than  the  heroic  romances  so 
much  admired  in  its  first  years.     It  must 
be  confessed  that  this  was  but  the  contin- 
uance, and  in  some  respect,  possibly,  an 
improvement  of  a  long-established  style 
of  fiction.     But  it  was  not  fitted  to  endure 
reason  or  ridicule,  and  the  societies  of 
Paris  knew  the  use  of  both  weapons.    Mo- 
liere  sometimes  tried  his  wit  upon  the  ro- 
mances ;  and  Boileau,  rather  later  in  the 
day,  when  the  victory  had  been  won,  at- 
tacked Mademoiselle    Scudery  with  his 
sarcastic  irony  in  a  dialogue  on  the  heroes 
of  her  invention. 

50.  The  first  step  in  descending  from 
the   heroic   romance   was    to  Novels  of  Ma- 
ground  not  altogether  dissimi-  dame  la  Fay 
lar.      The    feats    of   chivalry  ette- 
were  replaced  by  less  wonderful  adven- 
tures ;  the  love  became  less  hyperbolical 
in  expression,  though  not  less  intensely 
engrossing  the  personages ;  the  general 
tone  of  manners  was  lowered  down  better 
to  that  of  nature,  or,  at  least,  of  an  ideality 
which  the  imagination  did  not  reject;  a 
style  already  tried  in  the  minor  fictions 


*  The  translation  of  this,  "  made  English  by  a 
person  of  honour,"  takes  great  liberties  with  the 
original,  and  endeavours  to  excel  it  in  wit  by  mean* 
of  frequent  interpolation. 

+  Hist,  of  Spanish  Literature,  p.  471 


FROM  1650  TO  1700. 


415 


of  Spain.  The  earliest  novels  that  de- 
mand attention  in  this  line  are  those  of  the 
Countess  de  la  Fayette,  celebrated  while 
Mademoiselle  de  la  Vergne  under  the  name 
of  Laverna  in  the  Latin  poetry  of  Men- 
age.* Zayde,  the  first  of  these,  is  entirely 
in  the  Spanish  style;  the  adventures  are 
improbable,  but  various  and  rather  inter- 
esting to  those  who  carry  no  skepticism 
into  fiction ;  the  language  is  polished  and 
agreeable,  though  not  very  animated ;  and 
it  is  easy  to  perceive  that,  while  that  kind 
of  novel  was  popular,  Zayde  would  obtain 
a  high  place.  It  has,  however,  the  usual 
faults ;  the  story  is  broken  by  interve- 
ning narratives,  which  occupy  too  large  a 
space  ;  the  sorrows  of  the  principal  char- 
acters excite,  at  least  as  I  should  judge, 
little  sympathy  ;  and  their  sentiments  and 
emotions  are  sometimes  too  much  refined 
in  the  alembic  of  the  Hotel  Rambouillet. 
In  a  later  novel,  the  Princess  of  Cleves, 
Madame  la  Fayette  threw  off  the  affecta- 
tion of  that  circle  to  which  she  had  once 
belonged ;  and  though  perhaps  Zayde  is,  or 
was  in  its  own  age,  the  more  celebrated 
novel,  it  seems  to  me  that  in  this  she  has 
excelled  herself.  The  story,  being  nothing 
else  than  the  insuperable  and  insidious, 
but  not  guilty,  attachment  of  a  married 
lady  to  a  lover,  required  a  delicacy  and 
correctness  of  taste  which  the  authoress 
has  well  displayed  in  it.  The  probability 
of  the  incidents,  the  natural  course  they 
take,  the  absence  of  all  complication  and 
perplexity,  give  such  an  inartificial  air  to 
this  novel,  that  we  can  scarcely  help  be- 
lieving it  to  shadow  forth  some  real  event. 
A  modern  novelist  would  probably  have 
made  more  of  the  story ;  the  style  is  al- 
ways calm,  sometimes  almost  languid  ;  a 
tone  of  decorous  politeness,  like  that  of 
the  French  stage,  is  never  relaxed ;  but  it 
is  precisely  by  this  means  that  the  writer 
has  kept  up  a  moral  dignity,  of  which  it 
would  have  been  so  easy  to  lose  sight. 
The  Princess  of  Cleves  is  perhaps  the 
first  work  of  mere  invention  (for,  though 
the  characters  are  historical,  there  is  no 
known  foundation  for  the  story)  which 
brought  forward  the  manners  of  the  aris- 
tocracy ;  it  may  be  said,  the  contempora- 
ry manners  ;  for  Madame  la  Fayette  must 
have  copied  her  own  times.  As  this  has 


*  The  name  Laverna,  though  well-sounding,  was 
in  one  respect  unlucky,  being  that  given  by  anti- 
quity to  the  goddess  of  thieves.  An  epigram  on 
Menage,  almost,  perhaps,  too  trite  to  be  quoted,  is 
piquant  enough  : 

Lesbia  nulla  tibi,  nulla  est  tibi  dicta  Corinna; 

Carmine  laudatur  Cynthia  nulla  tuo. 
Sed  cum  doctorum  compilas  scrinia  yatum, 
Nil  minim,  si  sit  culta  Laverna  tibi. 


become  a  popular  theme  of  fiction,  it  is  just 
to  commemorate  the  novel  which  intro- 
duced it.  • 

51.  The  French  have  few  novels  of  this 
class  in  the  seventeenth  century  season's 
which  they  praise  ;  those  of  Ma-  Roman 
dame  Villedieu,  or  Des  Jardins,  c°'ni<iu«- 
may  deserve  to  be  excepted ;  but  I  have 
not  seen  them.    Scarron,  a  man  deformed 
and  diseased,  but  endowed  with  vast  gay- 
ety,  which  generally  exuberated  in  buffoon 
jests,  has  the  credit  of  having  struck  out 
into  a  new  path  by  his  Roman  Comique. 
The  Spaniards,  however,  had  so  much  like 
this,  that  we  cannot  perceive  any  great 
originality  in  Scarron.    The  Roman  Com- 
ique is  still  well  known,  and,  if  we  come  to 
it  in  vacant  moments,  will  serve  its  end  in 
amusing  us  ;    the   story  and  characters 
have  no  great  interest,  but  they  are  natu- 
ral ;  yet,  without  the  least  disparagement 
to  the  vivacity  of  Scarron,  it  is  stiil  true 
that  he  has  been  left  at  an  immense  dis- 
tance in  observation  of  mankind,  in  hu- 
morous character,  and  in  ludicrous  effect 
by  the  novelists  of  the  eighteenth   and 
nineteenth  centuries.    It  is  said  that  Scar- 
ron's  romance  is  written  in  a  pure  style  ; 
and  some  have  even  pretended  that  he  has 
not  been  without  effect  in  refining  the  lan- 
guage.    The  Roman  Bourgeois  of  Fure- 
tiere  appears  to  be  a  novel  of  middle  life ; 
it  had  some  reputation,  but  I  cannot  speak 
of  it  with  any  knowledge. 

52.  Cyrano  de  Bergerac  had  some  share 
in  directing  the  public  taste  to-  Cyrano  d« 
wards   those   extravagances   of  Bergerac. 
fancy  which  were  afterward  highly  popu- 
lar. "  He  has  been  imitated   himself,  as 
some  have  observed,  by  Swift  and  Vol- 
taire, and,  I  should  add,  to  a  certain  de- 
gree, by  Hamilton ;  but  all  the  three  have 
gone  far  beyond  him.     He  is  not  himself 
a  very  original  writer.     His  Voyage  to  the 
Moon  and  History  of  the  Empire  of  the 
Sun  are  manifestly  suggested  by  the  True 
History  of  Lucian ;   and  he  had  modern 
fictions,   especially   the   Voyage   to   the 
Moon  by  Godwin,  mentioned  in  a  former 
part  of  this  volume,  which  he  had  evi- 
dently read,  to  imp  the  wings  of  an  in- 
vention   not   perhaps   eminently   fertile. 
Yet  Bergerac  has  the  merit  of  being  nev- 
er wearisome  ;  his  fictions  are  well  con- 
ceived, and  show  little  effort,  which  seems 
also  the  character  of  his  language  in  this 
short  piece ;  though  his  letters  had  been 
written  in  the  worst  style  of  affectation, 
so  as  to  make  us  suspect  that  he  was 
turning  the  manner  of  some  contempora- 
ries into  ridicule.    The  novels  of  9egn^ 
Segrais,  such,  at  least,  as  I  have 
seen,  are  mere  pieces  of  light  satire,  de- 


416 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


signed  to  amuse,  by  transient  allusions,  the 
lady  by  whom  he  was  patronised,  Made- 
moiselle de  Montpensier.  If  they  de- 
serve any  regard  at  all,  it  is  as  links  in 
the  history  of  fiction  between  the  mock- 
heroic  romance,  of  which  Voiture  had 
given  an  instance,  and  the  style  of  fan- 
tastic invention  which  was  perfected  by 
Hamilton. 

53.  Charles  Perrault  may,  so  far  as  I 

know,  be  said  to  have  invented  a 
kind  of  fiction  which  became  ex- 
tremely popular,  and  has  had.  even  after 
it  ceased  to  find  direct  imitators,  a  per- 
ceptible influence  over  the  lighter  litera- 
ture of  Europe.  The  idea  was  original, 
and  happily  executed.  Perhaps  he  some- 
times took  the  tales  of  children,  such  as 
the  traditions  of  many  generations  had 
delivered  them  ;  but  much  of  his  fairy 
machinery  seems  to  have  been  his  own, 
and  I  should  give  him  credit  for  several 
of  the  stories,  though  it  is  hard  to  form  a 
guess.  He  gave  to  them  all  a  real  inter- 
est, as  far  as  could  be,  with  a  naturalness 
of  expression,  an  arch  naivete,  a  morality 
neither  too  obvious  nor  too  refined,  and  a 
slight  poignancy  of  satire  on  the  world, 
which  render  the  Tales  of  Mother  Goose 
almost  a  counterpart  in  prose  to  the  Fa- 
bles of  La  Fontaine. 

54.  These  amusing  fictions  caught  the 

facy  of  an  indolent  but  not  stu- 

HamiHon.       .  ,J      .  .,.,          „,,  ,.  ,r 

pid  nobility.  The  court  of  Ver- 
sailles and  all  Paris  resounded  with  fairy 
tales ;  it  became  the  popular  style  for 
more  than  half  a  century.  But  few  of 
these  fall  within  our  limits.  Perrault's 
immediate  followers,  Madame  Murat  and 
the  Countess  D'Aunoy,  especially  the  lat- 
ter, have  some  merit ;  but  they  come  very 
short  of  the  happy  simplicity  and  brevity 
we  find  in  Mother  Goose's  Tales.  It  is 
possible  that  Count  Antony  Hamilton  may 
have  written  those  tales  which  have  made 
him  famous  before  the  end  of  the  centu- 
ry, though  they  were  published  later.  But 
these,  with  many  admirable  strokes  of 
wit  and  invention,  have  too  forced  a  tone 
in  both  these  qualities  ;  the  labour  is  too 
evident,  and,  thrown  away  on  such  tri- 
fling, excites  something  like  contempt , 
they  are  written  for  an  exclusive  coterie, 
not  for  the  world ;  and  the  world  in  all 
such  cases  will  sooner  or  later  take  its 
revenge.  Yet  Hamilton's  tales  are  in- 
comparably superior  to  what  followed ; 
inventions  alternately  dull  and  extrava- 
gant, a  style  negligent  or  mannered,  an 
immorality  passing  onward  from  the  li- 
centiousness of  the  Regency  to  the  deba- 
sed philosophy  of  the  ensuing  age,  became 
the  general  characteristics  of  these  fic- 


tions, which  finally  expired  in  the  neglect 
and  scorn  of  the  world. 

55.  The  Telemaque  of  Fenelon,  after 
being  suppressed  in  France,  ap-  T^maque 
peared  in  Holland  clandestinely,  of  *'B»eu>n. 
without  the  author's  consent,  in  1699.  It 
is  needless  to  say  that  it  soon  obtained 
the  admiration  of  Europe ;  and  perhaps 
there  is  no  book  in  the  French  language 
that  has  been  more  read.  Fenelon  seems 
to  have  conceived  that,  metre  not  being 
essential,  as  he  assumed,  to  poetry,  he 
had,  by  imitating  the  Odyssey  in  Tele- 
maque, produced  an  epic  of  as  legitimate 
a  character  as  his  model.  But  the  bound- 
aries between  epic  poetry,  especially  such 
epics  as  the  Odyssey,  and  romance  were 
only  perceptible  by  the  employment  of 
verse  in  the  former ;  no  elevation  of 
character,  no  ideality  of  conception,  no 
charm  of  imagery  or  emotion  had  been 
denied  to  romance.  The  language  of  po- 
etry had  for  two  centuries  been  seized 
for  its  use.  Telemaque  must  therefore 
take  its  place  among  romances  ;  but  still 
it  is  true  that  no  romance  had  breathed  so 
classical  a  spirit,  none  had  abounded  so 
much  with  the  richness  of  poetical  lan- 
guage, much,  in  fact,  of  Homer,  Virgil, 
and  Sophocles  having  been  woven  in  with 
no  other  change  than  verbal  translation, 
nor  had  any  preserved  such  dignity  in  its 
circumstances,  such  beauty,  harmony,  and 
nobleness  in  its  diction.  It  would  be  as 
idle  to  say  that  Fenelon  was  indebted  to 
D'Urfe  and  Calprenede,  as  to  deny  that 
some  degree  of  resemblance  may  be  found 
in  their  poetical  prose.  The  one  belonged 
to  the  morals  of  chivalry,  generous  but 
exaggerated ;  the  other  to  those  of  wis- 
dom and  religion.  The  one  has  been  fo% 
gotten  because  its  tone  is  false ;  the  other 
is  ever  admired,  and  is  only  less  regarded 
because  it  is  true  in  excess;  because  it 
contains  too  much  of  what  we  know. 
Telemaque,  like  some  other  of  Fenelon's 
writings,  is  to  be  considered  in  reference 
to  its  object ;  an  object  of  all  the  noblest, 
being  to  form  the  character  of  one  to 
whom  many  must  look  up  for  their  wel- 
fare, but  still  very  different  from  the  in- 
culcation of  profound  truth.  The  beau- 
ties of  Telemaque  are  very  numerous  ; 
the  descriptions,  and,  indeed,  the  whole 
tone  of  the  book,  have  a  charm  of  grace 
something  like  the  pictures  of  Guido ;  but 
there  is  also  a  certain  languor  which  steals 
over  us  in  reading ;  and,  though  there  is 
no  real  want  of  variety  in  the  narration, 
it  reminds  us  so  continually  of  its  source, 
the  Homeric  legends,  as  to  become  rather 
monotonous.  The  abandonment  of  verse 
has  produced  too  much  diffuseness ;  it 


FROM  1650  TO  1700. 


417 


will  be  observed,  if  we  .ook  attentively, 
that  where  Homer  is  circumstantial,  Fen- 
elon  is  more  so  ;  in  this  he  sometimes  ap- 
proaches the  minuteness  of  the  romancers. 
But  these  defects  are  more  than  compen- 
sated by  the  moral  and  even  aesthetic  ex- 
cellence of  this  romance. 

56.  If  this  most  fertile  province  of  all 
Deficiency  literature,  as  we  have  now  dis- 
or  English  covered  it  to  be,  had  yielded  so 

romances.    }jttie    eyen    jn    prance)    a    nation 

that  might  appear  eminently  fitted  to  ex- 
plore it,  down  to  the  close  of  the  seven- 
teenth century,  we  may  be  less  surprised 
at  the  greater  deficiency  of  our  own  coun- 
try. Yet  the  scarcity  of  original  fiction 
in  England  was  so  great  as  to  be  inexpli- 
cable by  any  reasoning.  The  public  taste 
was  not  incapable  of  being  pleased ;  for 
all  the  novels  and  romances  of  the  Conti- 
nent were  readily  translated.  The  man- 
ners of  all  classes  were  as  open  to  humor- 
ous description,  the  imagination  was  as 
vigorous,  the  heart  as  susceptible  as  in 
other  countries.  But  not  only  we  find  no- 
thing good  ;  it  can  hardly  be  .said  that  we 
find  anything  at  all  that  has  ever  attracted 
notice  in  English  romance.  The  Parthe- 
nissa  of  Lord  Orrery,  in  the  heroic  style, 
and  the  short  novels  of  Afra  Behn,  are 
nearly  as  many,  perhaps,  as  could  be  de- 
tected in  old  libraries.  We  must  leave  the 
beaten  track  before  we  can  place  a  single 
work  in  this  class. 

57.  The  Pilgrim's  Progress  essentially 
pilgrim's  belongs  to  it,  and  John  Bunyan 
Progress.  may  pass  for  the  father  of  our  nov- 
elists.    His  success  in  a  line  of  composi- 
tion like  the  spiritual  romance  or  allegory, 
which  seems  to  have  been  frigid  and  un- 
readable in  the  few  instances  where  it  had 
been  attempted,  is  doubtless  enhanced  by 
his  want  of  all  learning  and  his  low  sta- 
tion in  life.     He  was,  therefore,  rarely,  if 
ever,  an  imitator ;  he  was  never  enchained 
by  rules.    Bunyan  possessed,  in  a  remark- 
able degree,  the  power  of  representation  ; 
his  inventive  faculty  was  considerable,  but 
the  other  is  his  distinguishing  excellence. 
He  saw,  and  makes  us  see,  what  he  de- 
scribes ;  he  is  circumstantial  without  pro- 
lixity, and   in   the  variety  and  frequent 
change  of  his  incidents,  never  loses  sight 
of  the  unity  of  his  allegorical  fable.     His 
invention  was  enriched,  and,  rather,  his 
choice  determined,  by  one  rule  he  had  laid 
down  to  himself,  the  adaptation  of  all  the 
incidental  language  of  Scripture  to  his  own 
use.     There  is  scarce  a  circumstance  or 
metaphor  in   the  Old  Testament  which 
does  not  find  a  place,  bodily  and  literally, 
in  the  story  of  the  Pilgrim's  Progress  ;  and 
this  peculiar  artifice  has  made  his  own 

VOL.  II.— 3  G 


imagination  appear  more  creative  than  it 
really  is.  In  the  conduct  of  the  romance 
no  rigorous  attention  to  the  propriety  of 
the  allegory  seems  to  have  been  uniform- 
ly preserved.  Vanity  Fair,  or  the  cave  of 
the  two  giants,  might,  for  anything  we  see, 
have  been  placed  elsewhere  ;  but  it  is  by 
this  neglect  of  exact,  parallelism  that  he 
better  keeps  up  the  reality  of  the  pilgrim- 
age, and  takes  off  the  coldness  of  mere  al- 
legory. It  is  also  to  be  remembered  that 
we  read  this  book  at  an  age  when  the 
spiritual  meaning  is  either  little  perceived 
or  little  regarded.  In  his  language,  nev- 
ertheless, Bunyan  sometimes  mingles  the 
signification  too  much  with  the  fable  ;  we 
might  be  perplexed  between  the  imagina- 
ry and  the  real  Christian  ;  but  the  liveli- 
ness of  narration  soon  brings  us  back,  or 
did,  at  least,  when  we  were  young,  to  the 
fields  of  fancy.  Yet  the  Pilgrim's  Prog- 
ress, like  some  other  books,  has  of  late  been 
a  little  overrated  ;  its  excellence  is  great, 
but  it  is  not  of  the  highest  rank,  and  we 
should  be  careful  not  to  break  down  the 
landmarks  of  fame,  by  placing  the  John 
Bunyans  and  the  Daniel  De  Foes  among 
the  Dii  Majores  of  our  worship. 

58.  I  am  inclined  to  claim  for  England, 
not  the  invention,  but,  for  the 
most  part,  the  composition  of 
another  book,  which,  being  grounded  on 
fiction,  may  be  classed  here,  The  Turkish 
Spy.  A  secret  emissary  of  the  Porte  is 
supposed  to  remain  at  Paris  in  disguise 
for  above  forty  years,  from  1635  to  1682. 
His  correspondence  with  a  number  of  per- 
sons, various  in  situation,  and  with  whom, 
therefore,  his  letters  assume  various  char- 
acters, is  protracted  through  eight  vol- 
umes. Much,  indeed  most,  relates  to  the 
liistory  of  those  times  and  to  the  anecdotes 
connected  with  it ;  but  in  these  we  do  not 
find  a  large  proportion  of  novelty.  The 
more  remarkable  letters  are  those  which 
run  into  metaphysical  and  theological  spec- 
ulation. These  are  written  with  an  ear- 
nest seriousness,  yet  with  an  extraordina- 
ry freedom,  such  as  the  feigned  garb  of  a 
Mohammedan  could  hardly  have  exempted 
from  censure  in  Catholic  countries.  Mah- 
mud,  the  mysterious  writer,  stands  on  a 
sort  of  eminence  above  all  human  preju- 
dice ;  he  was  privileged  to  judge  as  a 
stranger  of  the  religion  and  philosophy  of 
Europe  ;  but  his  bold  spirit  ranges  over 
the  field  of  Oriental  speculation.  The 
Turkish  Spy  is  no  ordinary  production, 
but  contains  as  many  proofs  of  a  thought- 
ful, if  not  very  profound  mind,  as  any  we 
can  find.  It  suggested  the  Persian  Letters 
to  Montesquieu,  and  the  Jewish  to  Argons ; 
the  former  deviating  from  his  model  with 


418 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


the  originality  of  talent,  the  latter  following 
it  with  a  more  servile  closeness.  Proba- 
bility, that  is,  a  resemblance  to  the  per- 
sonated character  of  an  Oriental,  was  not 
to  be  attained,  nor  was  it  desirable,  in  any 
of  these  fictions  ;  but  Mahmud  has  some- 
thing not  European ;  something  of  a  soli- 
tary, insulated  wanderer,  gazing  on  a  world 
that  knows  him  not,  which  throws,  to  my 
feelings,  a  striking  charm  over  the  Turk- 
ish Spy  ;  while  the  Usbek  of  Montesquieu 
has  become  more  than  half  Parisian ;  his 
ideas  are  neither  those  of  his  birthplace, 
nor  such  as  have  sprung  up  unbidden  from 
his  soul,  but  those  of  a  polite,  witty,  and 
acute  society;  and  the  .correspondence 
with  his  harem  in  Persia,  which  Montes- 
quieu has  thought  attractive  to  the  reader, 
is  not  much  more  interesting  than  it  is 
probable,  and  ends  in  the  style  of  a  com- 
mon romance.  As  to  the  Jewish  Letters 
of  Argens,  it  is  far  inferior  to  the  Turkish 
Spy,  and,  in  fact,  rather  an  insipid  book. 

59.  It  may  bfe  asked  why  I  dispute  the 
Chiefly  of  c^m  made  by  all  the  foreign  bi- 
EngiisU  ographers  in  favour  of  John  Paul 
origin.  Marana,  a  native  of  Genoa,  who 
is  asserted  to  have  published  the  first 
volume  of  the  Turkish  Spy  at  Paris  in 
1684,  and  the  rest  in  subsequent  years.* 
But  I  am  not  disputing  that  Marana  is  the 
author  of  the  thirty  letters  published  in 
1684,  and  of  twenty  more  in  1686,  which 
have  been  literally  translated  into  English, 
and  form  about  half  the  first  volume  in 
English  of  our  Turkish  Spy.f  Nor  do  I 
doubt  in  the  least  that  the  remainder  of 
that,  volume  had  a  French  original,  though 
it  happens  that  I  have  not  seen  it.  But 
the  later  volumes  of  the  EspionTurc,  in  the 
edition  of  1696,  with  the  date  of  Cologne, 
which,  according  to  Barbier,  is  put  for 
Rouen,!  are  avowedly  translated  from  the 


*  This  first  portion  was  published  at  Paris,  and 
also  at  Amsterdam.  Bayle  gives  the  following  ac- 
count. Get  ouvrage  a  etc  contrefait  a  Amsterdam 
du  consentement  du  libraire  de  Paris,  qui  1'a  le 
premier  imprime.  II  sera  compose  de  plusieurs 
petits  volumes  qui  contiendront  les  evenemens  les 
plus  considerables  de  la  chretiente  en  general,  et  de 
la  France  en  particulier,  depuis  I'annee  1637  jus- 
qu'en  1682.  Un  Italien  natif  de  Genes,  Marana, 
donne  ces  relations  pour  des  lettres  dcrites  aux 
ministres  de  la  Porte  par  un  espion  Turc  qui  se 
tenoit  cache  a  Paris.  II  pretend  les  avoir  traduites 
de  1'Arabe  en  Italien  :  et  il  raconte  fort  en  long 
comment  il  les  a  trouvees.  On  soup^onne  avec 
beaucoup  d'apparence,  que  c'est  un  tour  d'esprit 
Italien,  et  line  fiction  ingenieuse  sernblable  a  celle 
dont  Virgile  s'est  servi  pour  louer  Auguste,  &c. — 
Nouvelles  de  la  Republique  des  Lettres,  Mars,  1684  ; 
in  OZuvres  diverses  de  Bayle,  vol.  i.,  p.  20.  The 
Espion  Turc  is  not  to  be  traced  in  the  index  to  the 
Journal  des  §9avans  ;  nor  is  it  noticed  in  the  Biblio- 
theque  Universelle. 

t  Salfi,  xiv.,  61.     Biograph.  Univers. 

i   Uictionnaire  des  Anonymes,  vol.  i.,  p.  406. 


English.  And  to  the  second  volume  of 
our  Turkish  Spy,  published  in  1691,  is  pre- 
fixed an  account,  not  very  credible,  of  the 
manner  in  which  the  volumes  subsequent 
to  the  first  had  been  procured  by  a  traveller 
in  the  original  Italian ;  no  French  edition, 
it  is  declared,  being  known  to  the  book- 
sellers. That  no  Italian  edition  ever  ex- 
isted is,  I  apprehend,  now  generally  ad- 
mitted ;  and  it  is  to  be  shown  by  those 
who  contend  for  the  claims  of  Marana  to 
seven  out  of  the  eight  volumes,  that  they 

Barbier's  notice  of  L' Espion  dans  les  cours  de» 
princes  Chretiens  ascribes  four  volumes  out  of  six, 
which  appear  to  contain  as  much  as  our  eight  vol- 
umes, to  Marana,  and  conjectures  that  the  last  two 
are  by  another  hand ;  but  does  not  intimate  ths 
least  suspicion  of  an  Knglish  original.  And,  as  his 
authority  is  considerable,  I  must  fortify  my  own 
opinion  by  what  evidence  I  can  find. 

The  preface  to  the  second  volume  (English)  o.° 
the  Turkish  Spy  begins  thus  :  "  Three  years  are  now 
elapsed  since  the  first  volume  of  letters  written  by 
a  Spy  at  Paris  was  published  in  English ;  and  it 
was  expected  that  a  second  should  have  come  out 
long  before  this.  The  favourable  reception  which 
that  found  among  all  sorts  of  readers  would  have 
encouraged  a  speedy  translation  of  the  rest,  hac 
there  been  extant  any  French  edition  of  more  tha.i 
the  first  part ;  but,  after  the  strictest  inquiry,  nonj 
could  be  heard  of;  and,  as  for  the  Italian,  our  book 
sellers  have  not  that  correspondence  in  those  partj 
as  they  have  in  the  more  neighbouring  countries  of 
France  and  Holland :  so  that  it  was  a  work  de- 
spaired of  to  recover  any  more  of  this  Arabian's 
memoirs.  We  little  dreamed  that  the  Florentines 
had  been  so  busy  in  printing  and  so  successful  in 
selling  the  continued  translation  of  these  Arabian 
epistles,  till  it  was  the  fortune  of  an  Knglish  gentle- 
man to  travel  in  those  parts  last  summer,  and  dis- 
cover the  happy  news.  I  will  not  forestal  his  letter, 
which  is  annexed  to  this  preface."  A  pretended 
letter,  with  the  signature  of  Daniel  Saltmarsh,  fol- 
lows, in  which  the  imaginary  author  tells  a  strange 
tale  of  the  manner  in  which  a  certain  learned  phy 
sician  of  Ferrara,  Julio  de  Medici,  descended  from 
the  Medicean  family,  put  these  volumes,  in  the 
Italian  language,  into  his  hands.  This  letter  is 
dated  Amsterdam,  Sept.  9,  1690,  and  as  the  prefaca 
refers  it  to  the  last  summer,  I  hence  conclude  that 
the  first  edition  of  the  second  volume  of  the  Turkish 
Spy  was  in  1691  ;  for  I  have  not  seen  that,  nor  any 
other  edition  earlier  than  the  fifth,  printed  in  1702. 

Marana  is  said  by  Salfi  and  others  to  have  left 
France  in  1689,  having  fallen  into  a  depression  of 
spirits.  Now  the  first  thirty  letters,  about  one 
thirty-second  part  of  the  entire  work,  were  published 
in  1684,  and  about  an  equal  length  in  1686.  I  admit 
that  he  had  time  to  double  these  portions,  and  thus 
to  publish  one  eighth  of  the  whole  ;  but  is  it  likely 
that  between  1686  and  1689  he  could  have  given  the 
rest  to  the  world?  If  we  are  not  struck  by  this,  is 
it  likely  that  the  English  translator  should  have 
fabricated  the  story  above  mentioned,  when  the 
public  might  know  that  there  was  actually  a  French 
original  which  he  had  rendered  ?  The  invention 
seems  without  motive.  Again,  how  came  the  French 
edition  of  1696  to  be  an  avowed  translation  from  the 
English,  when,  according  to  the  hypothesis  of  M. 
Barbier,  the  volumes  of  Marana  had  all  been  pub- 
lished in  France?  Surely,  till  these  appear,  we 
have  reason  to  suspect  their  existence ;  and  the 
onus  probandi  lies  now  on  the  advocates  of  Marana'* 
claim. 


FROM  1650  TO  1700. 


were  published  in  France  before  1691  and 
the^subsequcnt  years,  when  they  appeared 
in  English.  The  Cologne  or  Rouen  edition 
of  Ifi'JG  follows  the  English  so  closely,  that 
it  has  not  given  the  original  letters  of  the 
first  volume,  published  with  the  name  of 
Manuia,  but  rendered  them  back  from  the 
translation. 

60.  In  these  early  letters,  I  am  ready  to 
admit,  the  scheme  of  the  Turkish  Spy  may 
be  entirely  traced.  Marana  appears  not 
only  to  have  planned  the  historical  part  of 
the  letters,  but  to  have  struck  out  the  more 
original  and  striking  idea  of  a  Moham- 
medan wavering  with  religious  scruples, 
which  the  English  continuator  has  fol- 
lowed up  with  more  philosophy  and  eru- 
dition. The  internal  evidence  for  their 
English  origin,  in  all  the  latter  volumes, 
is,  to  my  apprehension,  exceedingly  strong; 
but  I  know  the  difficulty  of  arguing  from 
this  to  convince  a  reader.  The  proof  we 
demand  is  the  production  of  these  volumes 
in  French,  that  is,  the  specification  of 
some  public  or  private  library  where  they 


419 

may  be  seen,  in  any  edition  anterior  to* 
1691,  and  nothing  short  of  this  can  be 
satisfactory  evidence.* 

61.  It  would  not,  perhaps,  be  unfair  to 
bring  within  the  pale  of  the  seven-  8  ... 
teenth  century  an  effusion  of  genius  rlie  *r 
sufficient  to  redeem  our  name  in  its  aTub- 
annals  of  fiction.  The  Tale  of  a  Tub, 
though  not  published  till  1704,  was  chiefly 
written,  as  the  author  declares,  eight  years 
before  ;  and  the  Battle  of  the  Books,  sub- 
joined to  it,  has  every  appearance  of  re- 
cent animosity  against  the  opponents  of 
Temple  and  Boyle  in  the  question  of 
Phalaris.  The  Tale  of  a  Tub  is,  in  my 
apprehension,  the  master-piece  of  Swift ; 
certainly  Rabelais  has  nothing  superior, 
even  in  invention,  nor  anything  so  con- 
densed, so  pointed,  so  full  of  real  mean- 
ing, of  biting  satire,  of  felicitous  analogy. 
The  Battle  of  the  Books  is  such  an  im- 
provement of  the  similar  combat  in  the 
Lutrin,  that  we  can  hardly  own  it  is  an 
imitation. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 


HISTORY  OF  PHYSICAL  AND  OTHER  LITERATURE  FROM  1650  TO  1700. 


SECT.  I.     ON  EXPERIMENTAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

Institutions  for  Science  at  Florence  — London  — 
Paris.—  Chymistry. — Boyle  and  others. 

1.  WE  have  now  arrived,  according  to 
the    method  pursued  in  corre- 

Heasons  for  ,.  f  ,         .  .,       ,  .    . 

omittini;  spending  periods,  at  the  history 
mathemat-  of  mathematical  and  physical 
science  in  the  latter  part  of  the 
seventeenth  century.  But  I  must  here 
entreat  my  readers  to  excuse  the  omis- 
sion of  that  which  ought  to  occupy  a 


prominent  situation  in  any  work  that  pre- 
tends to  trace  the  general  progress  of  hu- 
man knowledge.  The  length  to  which  I 
have  found  myself  already  compelled  to 
extend  these  volumes  might  be  an  ade- 
quate apology ;  but  I  have  one  more  in 
superable  in  the  slightness  of  my  own  ac- 
quaintance with  subjects  so  momentous 
and  difficult,  and  upon  which  I  could  not 
write  without  presumptuousness  and  much 
peril  of  betraying  ignorance.  The  names, 
therefore,  of  Wallis  and  Huygens,  Newton 


*  I  shall  now  produce  some  direct  evidence  for 
the  English  authorship  of  seven  out  of  eight  parts 
of  the  Turkish  Spy. 

"  In  the  Life  of  Mrs.  Manley,  published  under  the 
title  of '  The  Adventures  of  Rivella,'  printed  in  1714, 
in  pages  14  and  15,  it  is  said,  That  her  father,  Sir 
Roger  Manley,  was  the  genuine  author  of  the  first 
volume  of  the  Turkish  Spy.  Dr.  Midgley,  an  in- 
genious physician,  related  to  the  family  by  marriage, 
had  the  charge  of  looking  over  his  papers,  among 
which  he  found  that  manuscript,  which  he  easily 
reserved  to  his  proper  use  ;  and  both  by  his  own  pen 
and  the  assistance  of  some  others,  continued  the 
work  until  the  eighth  volume,  without  ever  having 
the  justice  to  name  the  author  of  the  first."— MS. 
note  in  the  copy  of  the  Turkish  Spy  (edit.  1732)  in 
the  British  Museum. 

Another  MS.  note  in  the  same  volume  gives  the 
following  extract  from  Dunton's  Life  and  Errors. 
"  Mr.  Bradshaw  is  the  best  accomplished  hackney 
writer  I  have  met  with;  his  genius  was  quite 


above  the  common  size,  and  his  style  was  incom- 
parably fine.  ...  So  soon  as  I  saw  the  first  volume 
of  the  Turkish  Spy,  the  very  style  and  manner  of 
writing  convinced  me  that  Bradshaw  was  the  author. 
.  .  .  Bradshaw's  wife  owned  that  Dr.  Midgley  had 
engaged  him  in  a  work  which  would  take  him  some 
years  to  finish,  for  which  the  doctor  was  to  pay  him 
40j.  per  sheet.  ...  so  that  'tis  very  probable  (for 
I  cannot  swear  I  saw  him  write  it)  that  Mr.  William 
Bradshaw  was  the  author  of  the  Turkish  Spy; 
were  it  not  for  this  discovery,  Mr.  Midgley  had 
gone  off  with  the  honour  of  that  performance."  It 
thus  appears  that  in  England  it  was  looked  upon  M 
an  original  work  ;  though  the  authority  of  Dunton 
is  not  very  good  for  the  facts  he  tells,  and  that  of 
Mrs.  Manley  much  worse.  But  I  do  not  quote  them 
as  evidence  of  such  facts,  but  of  common  report. 
Mrs.  Manley,  who  claims  for  her  father  the  first 
volume,  certainly  written  by  Marana,  must  be  set 
aside  ;  as  to  Dr.  Midgley  and  Mr.  Bradshaw,  I  know 
nothing  to  confirm  or  refute  what  is  here  said. 


420 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


and  Leibnitz,  must  be  passed  with  distant 
reverence. 

2.  This  was  the  age  when  the  experi- 
Academydei  mental  philosophy,  to  which 
Cemento.  Bacon  had  held  the  torch,  and 
which  had  already  made  considerable 
progress,  especially  in  Italy,  was  finally 
established  on  the  ruins  of  arbitrary  fig- 
ments and  partial  inductions.  This  phi- 
losophy was  signally  indebted  to  three  as- 
sociations, the  eldest  of  which  did  not  en- 
dure long,  but  the  others  have  remained 
to  this  day,  the  perennial  fountains  of  sci- 
ence :  the  Academy  del  Cimento  at  Flor- 
ence, the  Royal  Society  of  London,  the 
Academy  of  Sciences  at  Paris.  The  first 
of  these  was  established  in  1657,  with  the 
patronage  of  the  Grand  Duke  Ferdinand 
II.,  but  under  the  peculiar  care  of  his 
brother  Leopold.  Both  were,  in  a  man- 
ner at  that  time  remarkable,  attached  to 
natural  philosophy ;  and  Leopold,  less  en- 
gaged in  public  affairs,  had  long  carried 
on  a  correspondence  with  the  learned  of 
Europe.  It  is  said  that  the  advice  of  Viv- 
iani,  one  of  the  greatest  geometers  that 
Europe  has  produced,  led  to  this  institu- 
tion. The  name  this  academy  assumed 
gave  promise  of  their  fundamental  rule, 
the  investigation  of  truth  by  experiment 
alone.  The  number  of  academicians  was 
unlimited,  and  all  that  was  required  as  an 
article  of  faith  was  the  abjuration  of  all 
faith,  a  resolution  to  inquire  into  truth 
without  regard  to  any  previous  sect  of 
philosophy.  This  academy  lasted,  un- 
fortunately, but  ten  years  in  vigour  ;  it  is 
a  great  misfortune  for  any  literary  institu- 
tion to  depend  on  one  man,  and  especially 
on  a  prince,  who,  shedding  a  factitious,  as 
well  as  sometimes  a  genuine  lustre  round 
it,  is  not  easily  replaced  without  a  dimi- 
nution of  the  world's  regard.  Leopold,  in 
1667,  became  a  cardinal,  and  was  thus 
withdrawn  from  Florence ;  others  of  the 
Academy  del  Cimento  died  or  went  away, 
and  it  rapidly  sunk  into  insignificance. 
But  a  volume  containing  reports  of  the 
yearly  experiments  it  made,  among  oth- 
ers, the  celebrated  one  showing  the  in- 
compressibility  of  water,  is  generally  es- 
teemed.* 

3.  The  germe  of  our  Royal  Society 
Royal  may  be  traced  to  the  year  1645, 
Society,  when  Wallis,  Wilkins,  Glisson,  and 
others  less  known,  agreed  to  meet  weekly 
at  a  private  house  in  London,  in  order  to 
converse  on  subjects  connected  with  nat- 
ural, and  especially  experimental  philoso- 
phy. Part  of  these  soon  afterward  set- 

*  Galluzzi,  Storia  del  Gran  Ducato,  vol.  vii.,  p. 
240.  Tiraboschi,  xi.,  204.  Corniani,  viii.,  29. 


tied  in  Oxford;  and  thus  arose  two  iitle 
societies  in  connexion  with  each  other, 
those  at  Oxford  being  recruited  by  Ward, 
Petty,  Willis,  and  Bathurst.  They  met 
at  Petty's  lodgings  till  he  removed  to  Ire- 
land in  1652  ;  afterward  at  those  of  Wil- 
kins, in  Wadham  College,  till  he  became 
Master  of  Trinity  College,  Cambridge,  in 
1659  ;  about  which  time  most  of  the  Ox- 
ford philosophers  came  to  London,  and 
held  their  meetings  in  Gresham  College. 
They  became  more  numerous  after  the 
Restoration,  which  gave  better  hope  of  a 
tranquillity  indispensable  for  science  ;  and, 
on  the  28th  of  November,  1660,  agreed  to 
form  a  regular  society,  which  should  meet 
weekly  for  the  promotion  of  natural  phi- 
losophy ;  their  registers  are  kept  from 
this  time.*  The  king,  rather  fond  himself 
of  their  subjects,  from  the  beginning  af- 
forded them  his  patronage  ;  their  first 
charter  is  dated  15th  July,  1662,  incorpo- 
rating them  by  the  style  of  the  Royal  So- 
ciety, and  appointing  "Lord  Brouncker  the 
first  president,  assisted  by  a  council  of 
twenty,  the  conspicuous  names  among 
which  are  Boyle,  Kenelm  Digby,  Wilkins, 
Wren,  Evelyn,  and  Oldenburg.f  The  last 
of  these  was  secretary,  and  editor  of  the 
Philosophical  Transactions,  the  first  num- 
ber of  which  appeared  March  1,  1665,  con- 
taining sixteen  pages  in  quarto.  These 
were  continued  monthly,  or  less  frequent- 
ly, according  to  the  materials  he  possess- 
ed. Oldenburg  ceased  to  be  the  editor  in 
1677,  and  was  succeeded  by  Grewe,  as  he 
was  by  Hooke.  These  early  transactions 
are  chiefly  notes  of  conversations  and  re- 
marks made  at  the  meetings,  as  well  as 
of  experiments  either  then  made  or  re- 
ported to  the  society. J 

4.  The  Academy  of  Sciences  at  Paris 
was  established  in  1666,  under  Academy  of 
the  auspices  of  Colbert.  The  Sciences  at 
king  assigned  to  them  a  room  in  Pans- 
the  royal  library  for  their  meetings.  Those 
first  selected  were  all  mathematicians ; 
3ut  other  departments  of  science,  especial- 
ly chymistry  and  anatomy,  afterward  fur- 
nished associates  of  considerable  name. 
It  seems,  nevertheless,  that  this  academy 
did  not  cultivate  experimental  philosophy 
with  such  unremitting  zeal  as  the  Royal 
Society,  and  *  that  abstract  mathematics 
lave  always  borne  a  larger  proportion  to 
the  rest  of  their  inquiries.  They  publish- 
in  this  century  ten  volumes,  known  as 
Anciens  Memoires  de  1' Academic.  But 
near  its  close,  in  1697,  they  received  a  reg- 


*  Birch's  Hist,  of  Royal  Society,  vol.  i.,  p.  1. 
t  Id.  ibid.,  p.  88. 

j  Id.,  vol.  ii.,  p.  18.    Thomson's  Hist,  of  Royal 
Society,  p.  7. 


FROM  1650  TO  1700. 


421 


ular  institution  from  the  king,  organizing 
them  in  a  manner  analogous  to  the  two  oth- 
er great  literary  foundations,  the  French 
Academy,  and  that  of  Inscriptions  and 
Belles  Lettres.* 

5.  In  several  branches  of  physics,  the 
state  of      experimental  philosopher  is  both 
chymistry.  guided  and  corrected  by  the  eter- 
nal laws  of  geometry.     In  others  he  wants 
this  aid,  and,  in  the  words  of  his  master, 
knows  and  understands  no  more  concern- 
ing the  order  of  nature,  than,  as  her  ser- 
vant and  interpreter,  he  has  been  taught 
by  observation  and  tentative  processes. 
All  that  concerns  the  peculiar  actions  of 
bodies  on  each  other  was  of  this  descrip- 
tion ;  though,  in  our  own  times,  even  this 
has  been  in  some  degree  brought  under 
the   omnipotent  control  of   the   modern 
analysis.    Chymistry,  or  the  science  of  the 
inolecular  constituents  of  bodies,  manifest- 
ed in  such  peculiar  and  reciprocal  opera- 
tions, had  never  been  rescued  from  empir- 
ical hands  till  this  period.     The  transmu- 
tation of  metals,  the  universal  medicine, 
and  other  inquiries  utterly  unphilosophioal 
in  themselves,  because  they  assumed  the 
existence  of  that  which  they  sought  to 
discover,  had  occupied  the  chymists  so 
much,  that  none  of  them  had   made  any 
farther  progress  than  occasionally,  by  some 
happy  combination  or  analysis,  to  con- 
tribute a  useful  preparation  to  pharmacy 
or  to  detect  an  unknown  substance.    Glau- 
ber and  Van  Helmont  were  the  most  ac- 
tive and  ingenious  of  these  elder  chymists ; 
but  the  former  has  only  been  remembered 
by  having  long  given  his  name  to  sulphate 
of  soda,  while  the  latter  wasted  his  time 
on  experiments  from  which  he  knew  not 
how   to  draw  right   inferences,   and   his 
powers  on  hypotheses  which  a   sounder 
spirit  of  the  inductive  philosophy  would 
have  taught  him  to  reject. f 

6.  Chymistry,  as  a  science  of  principles, 

hypothetical  no  doubt,  and,  in  a 
great  measure,  unfounded,  but  co- 
hering in  a  plausible  system,  and  better 
than  the  reveries  of  the  Paracelsists  and 
Behmenists,  was  founded  by  Becker  in 
Germany,  by  Boyle  and  his  contempora- 
ries of  the  Royal  Society  in  England. 
Becker,  a  native  of  Spire,  who,  after  wan- 
dering from  one  city  of  Germany  to  anoth- 
er, died  in  London  in  1685,  by  his  Physi- 
ca  Subterranea,  published  in  1669,  laid  the 
foundation  of  a  theory,  which,  having  in 
the  next  century  been  perfected  by  Stahl, 
became  the  creed  of  philosophy  till  nearly 
the  end  of  the  last  century.  "  Becker's 


*   Fontenelle,  vol.  v.,  p  23.     Montucla,  Hist,  des 
Mathematiques,  vol.  ii.,  p.  557. 
t  Thomson's  Hist,  of  Chemistry,  i.,  183. 


theory,"  says  an  English  writer,  "  stripped 
of  everything  but  the  naked  statement, 
may  be  expressed  in  the  following  sen- 
tence :  besides  water  and  air  there  are 
three  other  substances,  called  earths, 
which  enter  into  the  composition  of  bod- 
ies ;  namely,  the  fusible  or  vitrifiable  earth, 
the  inflammable  or  sulphureous,  and  the 
mercurial.  By  the  intimate  combination 
of  earths  with  water  is  formed  a  univer- 
sal acid,  from  which  proceed  all  other  acid 
bodies  ;  stones  are  produced  by  the  com- 
bination of  certain  earths,  metals  by  the 
combination  of  all  the  three  earths  in  pro- 
portions which  vary  according  to  the 
metal."* 

7.  No  one  Englishman  of  the   seven- 
teenth century,  after   Lord  Bacon,  _ 
raised  to  himself  so  high  a  reputa- 
tion in  experimental  philosophy  as  Robert 
Boyle  ;   it  has  even  been  remarked  that 
he  was  born  in  the  year  of  Bacon's  death, 
as  the  person  destined  by  nature  to  suc- 
ceed him.     A  eulogy  which  would  be  ex- 
travagant if  it  implied  any  parallel  be- 
tween the  genius  of  the  two  ;  but  hardly 
so  if  we  look  on  Boyle  as  the  most  faith- 
ful, the  most  patient,  the  most  successful 
disciple  who  carried  forward  the  experi- 
mental philosophy  of  Bacon.     His  works 
occupy  six  large  volumes  in  quarto.    They 
may  be  divided  into  theological  or  meta- 
physical, and  physical  or  experimental. 
Of  the  former,  we  may  mention  as  the 
most  philosophical  his   Disquisition  into 
the  Final  Causes  of  Natural  Things,  his 
Free  Inquiry  into  the  Received  Notion  of 
Nature,  his  Discourse   of  Things'  above 
Reason  and  Religion,  his  Excellency  of 
Theology,  and  his  Considerations  on  the 
Style  of  the  Scriptures ;  but  the  latter,  his 
chymical  and  experimental  writings,  form 
more  than  two  thirds  of  his  prolix  works. 

8.  The  metaphysical  treatises,  to  use 
that  word  in  a  large   sense,  of  nl9  meu»- 
Boyle,  or,  rather,  those  concerning  physical 
Natural  Theology,  are  very  per-  ' 
spicuous,  very  free  from  system,  and  such 
as  bespeak  an  independent  lover  of  truth. 
His  Disquisition  on  Final  Causes  was  a 
well-timed  vindication  of  that  palmary  ar- 
gument against  the  paradox  of  the  Carte- 
sians, who  had  denied  the  validity  of  an 
inference  from  the  manifest  adaptation  of 
means  to  ends  in  the  universe  to  an  intel- 
ligent Providence.     Boyle  takes  a  more 
philosophical  view  of  the  principle  of  final 
causes  than  had  been  found  in  many  theo- 
logians, who  weakened  the  argument  it- 
self by  the  presumptuous  hypothesis  that 
man  was  the  sole  object  of  Providence  in 

*  Thomson's  Hist,  of  Royal  Society,  p  168. 


422 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


the  creation.*  His  greater  knowledge  of 
physiology  led  him  to  perceive  that  there 
are  both  animal,  and  what  he  calls  eosmi- 
cal  ends,  in  which  man  has  no  concern. 

9.  The  following  passage  is  so  favour- 
Extract     able  a  specimen  of  the  philosoph- 
from  one  ical  spirit  of  Boyle,  and  so  gooc 
of  them.    an  inustration  of  the  theory  of 
tdols   in   the  Novum  Organum,-  that,  al- 
though it  might  better,  perhaps,  have  de- 
served a  place   in  a  former  chapter,  ] 
will  not  refrain   from  inserting   it.     "  I 
know  not,"  he  says,  in  his  Free  Inquiry 
into    the    received    Notion    of    Nature, 
"  whether  it  be  a  prerogative  in  the  hu- 
man mind,  that,  as  it  is  itself  a  true  and 
positive  being,  so  is  it  apt  to  conceive  all 
other  things  as  true  and  positive  beings 
also ;  but  whether  or  no  this  propensity 
to  frame  such  kind  of  ideas  supposes  an 
excellency,  I  fear  it  occasions  mistakes, 
and  makes  us  think  and  speak  after  the 
manner  of  true  and  positive  beings,  of 
such  things  as  are  but  chimerical,   and 
some   of   them  negations   or  privations 
themselves ;    as  death,  ignorance,  blind- 
ness, and  the  like.     It  concerns  us,  there- 
fore,  to  stand   very  carefully  upon  our 
guard,  that  we  be  not  insensibly  misled 
by  such  an  innate  and  unheeded  tempta- 
tion to  error  as  we  bring  into  the  world 
with  us."f 

10.  Boyle  improved  the  airpump  and  the 
His  merits  thermometer,  though   the  latter 
in  physics  was  first  made  an  accurate  in- 
and  chym-  strument    of    investigation    by 

Newton.  He  also  discovered 
the  law  of  the  air's  elasticity,  namely, 
that  its  bulk  is  inversely  as  the  pressure. 
For  some  of  the  principles  of  hydrostat- 
ics we  are  indebted  to  him,  though  he  did 
not  possess  much  mathematical  knowl- 
edge. The  Philosophical  Transactions 
contain  several  valuable  papers  by  him 
on  this  science.^  By  his  "  Skeptical 
Chymist,"  published  in  1661,  he  did  much 
to  overturn  the  theories  of  Van  Helmont's 
school,  that  commonly  called  of  the  iatro- 
chymists,  which  was  in  its  highest  reputa- 
tion; raising  doubts  as  to  the  existence 
not  only  of  the  four  elements  of  the  peri- 
patetics, but  of  those  which  these  chymists 
had  substituted.  Boyle  holds  i.he  elements 
of  bodies  to  be  atoms  of  different  shapes 
and  sizes,  the  union  of  which  gave  origin 
to  what  are  vulgarly  called  elements. §  It 
is  unnecessary  to  remark  that  this  is  the 
prevailing  theory  of  the  present  age. 

11.  I  shall  borrow  the  general  character 


*  Boyle's  Works,  vol.  v.,  p.  394.  t  Id.,  p.  161. 
J  Thomson's  Hist,  of  Royal  Society,  p.  400,  411. 
f)  Thomson's  Hist,  of  Chemistry,  i.,  205. 


of  Boyle  and  of  his  contemporaries  Generai 
in  English  chymistry  from  a  mod-  cimractei 
ern  author  of  credit.     "  Perhaps  0|  Bo>'le- 
Mr.  Boyle  may  be  considered  as  the  first 
person  neither  connected  with  pharmacy 
nor  mining  who  devoted  a  considerable 
degree  of  attention  to  chymical  pursuits 
Mr.  Boyle,  though,  in  common  with  the 
literary  men  of  his  age,  he  may  be  accused 
of  credulity,  was  both  very  laborious  and 
intelligent ;    and    his    chymical   pursuits, 
which  were  various  and  extensive,  and 
intended  solely  to  develop  the  truth  with- 
out any  regard  to  previously  conceived 
opinions,  contributed   essentially   to   set 
chymistry  free  from  the  trammels  of  ab- 
surdity and  superstition  in  which  it  had 
been  hitherto  enveloped,  and  to  recom- 
mend it  to  philosophers  as  a  science  de- 
serving to  be  studied  on  account  of  the 
important  information  which  it  was  quali- 
fied to  convey.     His  refutation  of  the  al- 
chymistical  opinions  respecting  the  con- 
stituents of  bodies,  his  observations  on 
cold,  on  the  air,  on  phosphorus,  and  on 
ether,  deserve  particularly  to  be  mention- 
ed as  doing  him  much  honour.     We  have 
no  regular  account  of  any  one  substance 
or  of  any  class   of  bodies  in  Mr.  Boyle 
similar  to  those  which  at  present  are  con- 
sidered as  belonging  exclusively  to  the 
science  of  chymistry.    Nor  did  he  attempt 
to  systematize  the  phenomena,  or  to  sub- 
ject them  to  any  hypothetical  explanation. 
12.  "  But  his  contemporary,  Dr.  Hooke, 
who  had  a  particular  predilection  or  Hooke 
for  hypothesis,  sketched  in  his  and  others. 
Micrographia  a  very  beautiful  theoretical 
explanation  of  combustion,  and  promised 
to  develop  his  doctrine  more  fully  in  a 
subsequent   book ;    a   promise   which  he 
never  fulfilled ;    though   in  his   Lampas, 
published  about  twenty  years  afterward, 
he  has  given  a  very  beautiful  explanation 
of  the   way   in   which   a   candle   bu.ns. 
Mayow,  in  his  Essays,  published  at  Ox- 
ford about  ten  years  after  the  Micrographia, 
mbraced  the  hypothesis  of  Dr.   Hooke 
without  acknowledgment,  but  clogged  it 
with  so  many  absurd  additions  of  his  own 
as  greatly  to  obscure  its  lustre  and  dimin- 
ish its  beauty.     Mayow's  first  and  princi- 
aal  essay  contains  some  happy  experi- 
ments on  respiration  and  air,  and  some 
"ortunate  conjectures  respecting  the  com- 
bustion of  the  metals  :  but  the  most  valu- 
able part  of  the  whole  is  the  chapter  on 
affinities ;   in  which  he  appears  to  have 
one  much  farther  than  any  chymist  of 
ris  day,  and  to  have  anticipated  some  of 
the  best  established  doctrines  of  his  suc- 
;essors.     Sir  Isaac  Newton,  to  whom  all 
he  sciences  lie  under  such  great  obliga- 


FROM  1650  TO  1700. 


423 


turns,  made  two  most  important  contribu- 
tions to  chymistry,  which  constitute,  as  it 
were,  the  foundation-stones  of  its  two 
great  divisions.  The  first  was  pointing 
out  a  method  of  graduating  thermometers, 
so  as  to  be  comparable  with  each  other 
in  whatever  part  of  the  world  observations 
with  them  are  made.  The  second  was  by 
pointing  out  the  nature  of  chymical  affinity, 
am!  showing  that  it  consisted  in  an  at- 
traction by  which  the  constituents  of 
bodies  were  drawn  towards  each  other 
and  united ;  thus  destroying  the  previous 
hypothesis  of  the  hooks,  and  points,  and 
rings,  and  wedges,  by  means  of  which  the 
different  constituents  of  bodies  were  con- 
teived  to  be  kept  together."* 

13.  Lemery,  a  druggist  at  Paris,  by  his 
Cours  de  Chymie  in  1675,  is  said 
y'  to  have  changed  the  face  of  the 
science  ;  the  change,  nevertheless,  seems 
to  have  gone  no  deeper.  "  Lemery,"  says 
Fontenelle,  "  was  the  first  who  dispersed 
the  real  or  pretended  obscurities  of  chymis- 
try, who  brought  it  to  clearer  and  more 
simple  notions,  who  abolished  the  gross 
barbarisms  of  its  language,  who  promised 
nothing  but  what  he  knew  the  art  could 
perform  ;  and  to  this  he  owed  the  success 
of  his  book.  It  shows  not  only  a  sound 
understanding,  but  some  greatness  of  soul, 
to  strip  one's  own  science  of  a  false 
pomp."t  But  we  do  not  find  that  Lemery 
nad  any  novel  views  in  chymistry,  or  that 
he  claims  with  any  irresistible  pretension 
the  title  of  a  philosopher.  In  fact,  his 
chymistry  seems  to  have  been  little  more 
<;han  pharmacy. 


SECT.  II.     Ox  NATURAL  HISTORY. 

Zoology.— Ray.— Botanical   Classifications.— 
Grew.— Geological  Theories. 

14.  THE  accumulation  of  particular 
«iowProz-  knowledge  in  Natural  History 
ressofzo-  must  always  be  progressive, 
Ol°sy-  where  any  regard  is  paid  to  the 
subject ;  every  traveller  in  remote  coun- 
tries, every  mariner  may  contribute  some 
observation,  correct  some  error,  or  bring 
home  some  new  species.  Thus  zoology 
had  made  a  regular  advance  from  the  days 
of  Conrad  Gesner ;  yet  with  so  tardy  a 
step,  that,  reflecting  on  the  extensive  in- 
tercourse of  Europe  with  the  Eastern  and 
Western  world,  we  may  be  surprised  to 
find  how  little  Jonston,"in  the  middle  of 
the  seventeenth  century,  had  added,  even 


*  Thomson's  Hist,  of  Royal  Society,  p.  466. 
t  Eloge  de  Lemery,  in  OSuvres  de  fontenelle, 
'..361.     Biogr.  Universelle. 


in  the  most  obvious  class,  that  of  quadru- 
peds, to  the  knowledge  collected  one  hun- 
dred years  before.  But  hitherto  zoology, 
confined  to  mere  description,  and  that 
often  careless  or  indefinite,  unenlightened 
by  anatomy,  unregulated  by  method,  had 
not  merited  the  name  of  a  science.  That 
name  it  owes  to  John  Ray. 

15.  Ray  first  appeared  in  Natural  His- 
tory as  the  editor  of  the  Orni-  _ 
thology  of    his    highly-accom-  B 
plished  friend  Francis  Willoiighby,  with 
whom  he  had  travelled  over  the  Continent. 
This  was  published  in  1676 ;  and  the  His- 
tory of  Fishes  followed  in  1686.     The  de- 
scriptions are  ascribed  to  Willoughby,  the 
arrangement  to  Ray.  who  might  have  con- 
sidered the  two  works  as  in  great  part  his 
own,  though  he  has  not  interfered  with  the 
glory  of  his  deceased  friend.     Cuvier  ob- 
serves, that  the  History  of  Fishes  is  the 
more  perfect  work  of  the  two  ;  that  many 
species  are  described  which  will  not  be 
found  in  earlier  ichthyologists,  and  that 
those  of  the  Mediterranean  especially  are 
given  with  great  precision.* 

16.  Among  the  original  works  of  Ray 
we    may   select    the   Synopsis  ijjs  gynop- 
Methodica  Animalium  Quadru-  sisofQuad- 
pedum    et   Serpentini    Generis,  ru 
published  in  1693.     This  book  makes  an 
epoch  in  zoology,  not  for  the  additions  of 
new  species  it  contains,  since  there  are 
few  wholly  such,  but  as  the  first  classifi- 
cation of  animals  that  can  be  reckoned 
both  general  and  grounded  in  nature.     He 
divides  them  into  those  with  blood  and 
without  blood.     The  former  are  such  as 
breathe  through  lungs,  and  such  as  breathe 
through  gills.     Of  the  former  of  these, 
again,  some  have  a  heart  with  two  ventri- 
cles, some  with  one  only.     And  among  the 
former  class  of  these,  some  are  viviparous, 
some  oviparous.     We  thus  come  to  the 
proper  distinction  of  Mammalia.     But,  in 
compliance  with  vulgar  prejudice,  Ray  did 
not  include  the  cetacea  in  the  same  class 
with  quadrupeds,  though  well  aware  that 
they  properly  belonged  to  it,  and  left  them 
as  an  order  of  fishes. t    Quadrupeds  he 
was  the  first  to  divide  into  ungulate  and 
unguiculate,  hoofed  and  clawed,   having 
himself  invented  the  Latin  words.J    The 
former  are  solidipeda,  bisulca,  or  quadrisul- 
ca;  the  latter  are  bifida  or  multifida;  and 


*  Biographic  Universelle,  art.  Ray. 

t  Nos  ne  a  communi  hominum  opmione  mmis  re- 
cedamiis,  et  ut  affect atse  novitatis  noiam  evitemus, 
cetaceum  aquatilium  genus,  quamvis  cum  quadru- 
pedibus  viviparis  in  omnibus  fere  pra>terquam  in 
pilis  et  pedibus  et  elemento  in  quo  degunt  conven- 
ire  videantur,  piscibus  annumerabimus,  p.  55. 
P.  50. 


424 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


these  latter  with  undivided  or  with  partial- 
ly divided  toes  ;  which  latter,  again,  may 
have  broad  claws,  as  monkeys,  or  narrow 
claws  ;  and  these  with  narrow  claws  he 
arranges  according  to  their  teeth,  as  either 
carnivora  or  leporina,  now  generally  called 
rodentia.  Besides  all  these  quadruped 
which  he  calls  analoga,  he  has  a  general 
division  called  anomala,  for  those  without 
teeth,  or  with  such  peculiar  arrangements 
of  teeth  as  we  find  in  the  insectivorous 
genera,  the  hedgehog  and  mole.* 

17.  Ray   was   the  first   zoologist  who 
Merits  of  made  use  of  comparative  anato- 
tiiis  work.  mv .  he  inserts  at  length  every 
account  of  dissections  that  he  could  find  ; 
several  had  been  made  at  Paris.     He  does 
not  appear  to  be  very  anxious  about  de- 
scribing every  species  ;  thus,  in  the  simian 
family,  he  omits  several  well  known. f    I 
cannot  exactly  determine  what  quadru- 
peds he  has  inserted  that  do  not  appear  in 
the  earlier  zoologists  ;  according  to  Lin- 
naeus, in  the  twelfth  edition  of  the  Syste- 
ma  Naturae,  if  I  have  counted  rightly,  they 
amount  to  thirty-two ;  but  I  have  found 
him  very  careless  in  specifying  the  syno- 
nymes  of  his  predecessors,  and  many  for 
which  he  only  quotes  Ray  are  in  Gesner 
or  Jonston.     Ray  has,   however,   much 
the  advantage  over  these  in  the  brevity 
and  closeness  of  his  specific  characters. 
"  The  particular  distinction  of  his  labours," 
says  Cuvier,  "  consists  in  an  arrangement 
more  clear,  more  determinate  than  those 
of  any  of  his  predecessors,  and  applied 
with   more    consistency    and    precision. 
His  distribution  of  the  classes  of  quadru- 
peds and  birds  have  been  followed  by  the 
English   naturalists   almost   to   our  own 
days  ;  and  we  find  manifest  traces  of  that 
he  has  adopted  as  to  the  latter  class  in 
Linnaeus,  in  Brisson,  in  Buffon,  and  in  all 
other  ornithologists."! 

18.  The   bloodless  animals,   and  even 
Red.  those  of  cold  blood,  with  the  excep- 

ip  tion  of  fishes,  had  occupied  but  little 
attention  of  any  good  zoologists  till  after 
the  middle  of  the  century.  They  were  now 
studied  with  considerable  success.  Redi, 
established  as  a  physician  at  Florence,  had 
yet  time  for  that  various  literature  which 
has  immortalized  his  name.  He  opposed, 


*  P.  56. 

t  Hoc  genus  animalium  turn  caudatorum  turn 
cauda  carentium  species  valde  numerosas  sunt ;  non 
tamen  multos  apud  autores  fide  dignos  descriptor 
occurrunt.  He  only  describes  those  species  he  has 
found  in  Clusius  or  Marcgrave,  and  what  he  calls 
Parisienses,  such,  I  presume,  as  he  had  found  in 
the  Memoirs  of  the  Academie  des  Sciences.  But 
he  does  not  mention  the  Simia  Inuus,  or  the  S. 
Hamadryas,  and  several  others  of  the  most  known 
species.  J  Biogr.  Univ. 


and,  in  a  great  degree,  disproved,  by  ex- 
periment, the  prevailing  doctrine  of  the 
equivocal  generation  of  insects,  or  that 
from  corruption ;  though  where  he  was 
unable  to  show  the  means  of  reproduction, 
he  had  recourse  to  a  paradoxical  hypothe- 
sis of  his  own.  Redi  also  enlarged  our 
knowledge  of  intestinal  animals,  and  made 
some  good  experiments  on  the  poison  of 
vipers.*  Malpighi,  who  combated,  like 
Redi,  the  theory  of  the  reproduction  of  or- 
ganized bodies  from  mere  corruption,  has 
given  one  of  the  most  complete  treatises 
on  the  silkworm  that  we  pos-  swamirer. 
sess.f  Swammerdam,  a  Dutch  dam- 
naturalist,  abandoned  his  pursuits  in  hu- 
man anatomy  to  follow  up  that  of  insects, 
and  by  his  skill  and  patience  in  dissection 
made  numerous  discoveries  in  their  struc- 
ture. His  General  History  of  Insects, 
1669,  contains  a  distribution  into  four 
classes,  founded  on  their  bodily  forms  and 
the  metamorphoses  they  undergo.  A 
posthumous  work,  Biblia  Naturae,  not  pub- 
lished till  1738,  contains,  says  the  Bio- 
graphic Universelle,  "  a  multitude  of  facts 
wholly  unknown  before  Swammerdam  ;  it 
is  impossible  to  carry  farther  the  anatomy 
of  these  little  animals,  or  to  be  more  ex- 
act in  the  description  of  their  organs." 

19.  Lister,  an  English  physician,  may 
be  reckoned  one  of  those  who  have  Ijster 
done  most  to  found  the  science  of 
conchology  by  his  Historia  sive  Synopsis 
Conchyliorum,  in  1685 ;  a  work  very  co- 
pious and  full  of  accurate  delineations  •, 
and  also  by  his  three  treatises  on  English 
animals,  two  of  which  relate  to  fluviatile 
and  marine  shells.     The  third,  which  is  on 
spiders,  is  not  less  esteemed  in  entomol- 
ogy.    Lister  was  also  perhaps  the  first  to 
distinguish  the  specific  characters,  such, 
at  least,  as   are   now  reckoned   specific, 
though  probably  not  in  his  time,  of  the 
Asiatic  and  African  elephant.    "  His  works 
in  natural  history  and  comparative  anato- 
my are  justly  esteemed,  because  he  has 

hown  himself  an  exact  and  sagacious  ob- 
server, and  has  pointed  out  with  correct- 
ness the  natural  relations  of  the  animals 
that  he  describes. "J 

20.  The  beautiful  science  which  bears 
the  nonsensical  name  of  com-  comparative 
parative  anatomy  had  but  casu-  nnatomy- 
ally  occupied  the  attention  of  the  medical 

rofession. §     It  was  to  them,  rather  than 


*  Biogr.  Univ.     Tiraboschi,  xi.,  252. 

+   Idem.  J  Biogr.  Univ.    Chalmers. 

()  It  is  most  probable  that  this  term  was  originally 
designed  to  express  a  comparison  between  the  hu- 
man structure  and  that  of  brutes,  though  it  might 
also  mean  one  between  different  species  of  the  lat- 
er. In  the  first  sense  it  is  never  now  used,  and 


FROM  1650  TO  1700. 


423 


to  mere  zoologists,  that  it  owed,  and,  in- 
deed, strictly  must  always  owe,  its  discov- 
eries, which  had  hitherto  been  very  few. 
It  was  now  more  cultivated ;  and  the  re- 
lations of  structure  to  the  capacities  of 
animal  life  became  more  striking  as  their 
varieties  were  more  fully  understood  ;  the 
grand  theories  of  final  causes  found  their 
most  convincing  arguments.  In  this  pe- 
riod, I  believe,  comparative  anatomy  made 
an  important  progress,  which,  in  the  ear- 
lier part  of  the  eighteenth  century,  was  by 
no  means  equally  rapid.  France  took  the 
lead  in  these  researches.  "  The  number 
of  papers  on  comparative  anatomy,"  says 
Dr.  Thomson,  "  is  greater  in  the  memoirs 
of  the  French  Academy  than  in  our  na- 
tional publication.  This  was  owing  to  the 
pains  taken  during  the  reign  of  Louis  XIV. 
to  furnish  the  academy  with  proper  ani- 
mals, and  the  number  of  anatomists  who 
received  a  salary,  and,  of  course,  devo- 
ted themselves  to  anatomical  subjects.'1 
There  are,  however,  about  twenty  papers 
in  the  Philosophical  Transactions  before 
1700  on  this  subject.* 

21.  Botany,  notwithstanding  the  gleams 
Botany   °^  Pml°s°phifial  light  which  occa- 
sionally  illustrate  the  writings  of 

Caesalpin  and  Columna,  had  seldom  gone 
farther  than  to  name,  to  describe,  and  to 
delineate  plants  with  a  greater  or  less  ac- 
curacy and  copiousness.  Yet  it  long  had 
the  advantage  over  zoqlogy,  and  now, 
when  the  latter  made  a  considerable  step 
in  advance,  it  still  continued  to  keep  ahead. 
This  is  a  period  of  great  importance  inbo- 
Jun  ius  tamcal  science.  Jungius  of  Ham- 
burgh, whose  posthumous  Isagoge 
Phytoscopica  was  published  in  1679,  is 
said  to  have  been  the  first  in  the  seven- 
teenth century  who  led  the  way  to  a  bet- 
ter classification  than  that  of  Lobel ;  and 
Sprengel  thinks  that  the  English  botanists 
were  not  unacquainted  with  his  writings  ; 
Ray,  indeed, owns  his  obligations  to  them. f 

22.  But  the  founder  of  classification,  in 

the  eyes  of  the  world,  was  Robert 

Monson.   -..      .  J  ,  .  ,        ,  f  e 

Monson,  of  Aberdeen,  professor  of 
botany  at  Oxford,  who,  by  his  Hortus 
Blesensis,  in  1669  ;  by  his  Plantarum  Um- 
belliferarum  Distributio  Nova,  in  1672  ; 
and  chiefly  by  his  great  work,  Historia 
Plantarum  Universalis,  in  1678,  laid  the 
bases  of  a  systematic  classification,  which 
he  partly  founded,  not  on  trivial  distinc- 

the  second  is  but  a  small  though  important  part  of 
the  science.  Zootomy  has  been  suggested  as  a  bet- 
ter name,  but  it  is  not  quite  analogical  to  anatomy  ; 
and,  on  the  whole,  it  seems  as  if  we  must  remain 
with  the  old  word,  protesting  against  its  propriety. 

*  Thomson's  Hist,  of  Royal  Society,  p  1 14. 

+  Sprengel,  Hist  Rei  Herbariae,  vol.  ii.,  p.  32. 

VOL.  II.— 3  H 


tions  of  appearance,  as  the  older  botanists, 
but,  as  Caesalpin  had  first  done,  on  the 
fructifying  organs.  He  has  been  frequent- 
ly charged  with  plagiarism  from  that  great 
Italian,  who  seems  to  have  suffered,  as 
others  have  done,  by  failing  to  carry  for- 
ward his  own  luminous  conceptions  into 
such  details  of  proof  as  the  world  justly 
demands  ;  another  instance  of  which  has 
been  seen  in  his  very  striking  passages 
on  the  circulation  of  the  blood.  Spren- 
gel, however,  who  praises  Morison  highly, 
does  not  impute  to  him  this  injustice  to, 
wards  Caesalpin,  whose  writings  might 
possibly  be  unknown  in  Britain.*  And  it 
might  be  observed,  also,  that  Morison  did 
not,  as  has  sometimes  been  alleged,  es- 
tablish the  fruit  as  the  sole  basis  of  his 
arrangement.  Out  of  fifteen  classes,  into 
which  he  distributes  all  herbaceous  plants, 
but  seven  are  characterized  by  this  dis 
tinction.f  "The  examination  of  Mori 
son's  works,"  says  a  late  biographer,  "  will 
enable  us  to  judge  of  the  service  he  ren- 
dered in  the  reformation  of  botany.  The 
great  botanists,  from  Gesner  to  the  Bau- 
hins,  had  published  works  more  or  less 
useful  by  their  discoveries,  their  observa- 
tions, their  descriptions,  or  their  figures. 
Gesner  had  made  a  great  step  in  consid- 
ering the  fruit  as  the  principal  distinction 
of  genera.  Fabius  Columna  adopted  this 
view  ;  Caesalpin  applied  it  to  a  classifica- 
tion which  should  be  regarded  as  better 
than  any  that  preceded  the  epoch  of  which 
we  speak.  Morison  had  made  a  particular 
study  of  fruits,  having  collected  1500  dif- 
ferent species  of  them,  though  he  did  not 
neglect  the  importance  of  the  natural  af- 
finities of  other  parts.  He  dwells  on  this 
leading  idea,  insists  on  the  necessity  of 
establishing  generic  characters,  and  has 
founded  his  chief  works  on  this  basis. 
He  has  therefore  done  real  service  to  the 
science  ;  nor  should  the  vanity  which  has 
made  him  conceal  his  obligations  to  Cxa- 
alpin  induce  us  to  refuse  him  justice."} 
Morison  speaks  of  his  own  theory  with 
excessive  vanity,  and  depreciates  all  ear 
lier  botanists  as  full  of  confusion.  Sev 
eral  English  writers  have  been  unfavour- 
able to  Morison,  out  of  partiality  to  Ray 
with  whom  he  was  on  bad  terms ;  bu1 
Tournefort  declares  that  if  he  had  not  en 
lightened  botany,  it  would  still  have  been 
in  darkness. 

23.    Ray,  in  his  Methodus  Plantarum 
Nova,  1682,  and  in  his  Historja  Plan- 
taruin  Universalis,  in  three  volumes, 
the  first  published  in  1686,  the  second  in 


*  Sprengel,  p  34. 

t  Pulleney,  Historical  Progress  of  Rotany  in  Eng 
land,  vol  i.,  p.  307.  I  Biogr.  Universelle. 


426 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


1688,  and  the  third,  which  is  supplement- 
al, in  1704,  trod  in  the  steps  of  Morison, 
but  with  more  acknowledgment  of  what 
was  due  to  others,  and  with  some  im- 
provements of  his  own.  He  described 
6900  plants,  many  of  which  are  now  con- 
sidered as  varieties.*  In  the  botanical 
works  of  Ray  we  rind  the  natural  families 
of  plants  better  denned,  the  difference  of 
complete  and  incomplete  flowers  more 
precise,  and  the  grand  division  of  monoco- 
tyledons and  bicotyledons  fully  establish- 
ed. He  gave  much  precision  to  the  char- 
acteristics of  many  classes,  and  introduced 
several  technical  terms  very  useful  for  the 
perspicuity  of  botanical  language  ;  finally, 
he  established  many  general  principles  of 
arrangement  which  have  since  been  adopt- 
ed, f  Ray's  method  of  classification  was 
principally  by  the  fruit,  though  he  admits 
its  imperfections.  "  In  fact,  his  method," 
says  Pulteney,  "  though  he  assumes  the 
fruit  as  the  foundation,  is  an  elaborate  at- 
tempt, for  that  time,  to  fix  natural  class- 
es."! 

24.  Rivinus,  in  his  Introductio  in  Rem 
Herbariam,  Leipsic,  1690.  a  very 

Rivinus.      ,  c  ,'..-' 

short  performance,  struck  into  a 
new  path,  which  has  modified,  to  a  great 
degree,  the  systems  of  later  botanists. 
Caesalpin  and  Morison  had  looked  mainly 
to  the  fruit  as  the  basis  of  classification ; 
Rivinus  added  the  flower,  and  laid  down 
as  a  fundamental  rule  that  all  plants  which 
resemble  each  other,  both  in  the  flower 
and  in  the  fruit,  ought  to  bear  the  same 
generic  nnme.fy  In  some  pages  of  this 
Introduction  we  certainly  find  the  basis 
of  the  Critica  Botanica  of  Linnaeus.  ||  Rivi- 
nus thinks  the  arrangement  of  Caesalpin 
the  best,  and  that  Morison  has  only  spoil- 
ed what  he  took ;  of  Ray  he  speaks  in 
terms  of  eulogy,  but  blames  some  part  of 
his  method.  His  own  is  primarily  found- 
ed on  the  flower,  and  thus  he  forms  eigh- 
teen classes,  which,  by  considering  the 
differences  of  the  fruits,  he  subdivides  into 
ninety-one  genera.  The  specific  distinc- 
tions he  founded  on  the  general  habit  and 
appearance  of  the  plant.  His  method  is 
more  thoroughly  artificial  as  opposed  to 
natural;  that  is,  more  established  on  a 
single  principle,  which  often  brings  hete- 
rogeneous plants  and  families  together, 
than  that  of  any  of  his  predecessors  ;  for 
even  Ray  had  kept  the  distinction  of  trees 
from  shrubs  and  herbs,  conceiving  it  to 
be  founded  in  their  natural  fructification. 
Rivinus  set  aside  wholly  this  leading  di- 


vision. Yet  he  had  not  been  able  to  re- 
duce all  plants  to  his  method,  and  admit- 
ted several  anomalous  divisions.* 
,  25.  The  merit  of  establishing  a  uniform 
and  consistent  system  was  re- 
served for  Tournefort.  His  El-  " 
emens  de  la  Botanique  appeared  in  1694 ; 
the  Latin  translation,  Institutiones  Rei 
Herbariae,  in  1700.  Tournefort,  like  Rivi- 
nus, took  the  flower  or  corolla  as  the  ba- 
sis of  his  system  ;  and  the  varieties  in  the 
structure,  rather  than  number,  of  the  petals 
furnish  him  with  his  classes.  The  genera 
— for,  like  other  botanists  before  Linnaeus, 
he  has  no  intermediate  division — are  es- 
tablished by  the  flower  and  fruit  conjoint- 
ly, or,  now  and  then,  by  less  essential  dif- 
ferences, for  he  held  it  better  to  constitute 
new  genera  than,  as  others  had  done,  to 
have  anomalous  species.  The  accessory 
parts  of  a  plant  are  allowed  to  supply  spe- 
cific distinctions.  But  Tournefort  divides 
vegetables,  according  to  old  prejudice — 
which  it  is  surprising  that,  after  the  pre- 
cedent of  Rivinus  to  the  contrary,  he 
should  have  regarded — into  herbs  and 
trees,  and  thus  he  has  twenty-two  class- 
es. Simple  flowers,  monopetalous  or  po- 
lypetalous,  form  eleven  of  these ;  com- 
posite flowers,  three  ;  the  apetalous,  one  ; 
the  cryptogamous,  or  those  without  flow- 
er or  fruit,  make  another  class  ;  shrubs  or 
suffrutices  are  placed  in  the  seventeenth ; 
and  trees,  in  five  more,  are  similarly  dis- 
tributed, according  to  their  floral  charac- 
ters.! Sprengel  extols  much  of  the  sys- 
tem of  Tournefort,  though  he  disapproves 
of  the  selection  of  a  part  so  often  wanting 
as  the  corolla  for  the  sole  basis ;  nor  can 
its  various  forms  be  comprised  inTourne- 
fort's  classes.  His  orders  are  well  mark- 
ed, according  to  the  same  author ;  but  he 
multiplied  both  his  genera  and  species  too 
much,  and  paid  too  little  attention  to  the 
stamina.  His  method  was  less  repugnant 
to  natural  affinities,  and  more  convenient 
in  practice  than  any  which  had  come  since 
Lobel.  Most  of  Tournefort's  generic  dis- 
tinctions were  preserved  by  Linnaeus,  and 
some,  which  had  been  abrogated  without 
sufficient  reason,  have  since  been  resto- 
red. |  Ray  opposed  the  system  of  Tour- 
nefort, but  some  have  thought  that  in  his 
later  works  he  came  nearer  to  it,  so  as  to 
be  called  magis  corollista  quam  fructista.fy 
This,  however,  is  not  acknowledged  by 
Pulteney,  who  has  paid  great  attention  to 
Ray's  writings. 
26.  The  classification  and  description 


*  Pulteney.  The  account  of  Ray's  life  and  bo- 
tanical writings  in  this  work  occupies  nearly  100 
pages.  t  Biogr.  Universelle. 

\  P.  259.  $  Biogr.  Univ.  ||  Id. 


*  Biogr.  Univ.     Sprengel,  p.  56. 
t  Biogr.  Univ.    Thomson's  Hist,  of  Royal  So- 
ciety,  p.  34.     Sprengel,  p.  64. 
J  Biogr.  Universelle.  §  Id. 


FROM  1650  TO  1700. 


vegetable  of  plants  constitute  what  gener- 
physiuiogy.  ally  is  called  botany.  But  these 
began  now  to  be  studied  in  connexion 
with  the  anatomy  and  physiology  of  the 
vegetable  world  ;  a  phrase  not  merely  an- 
alogical, because  as  strictly  applicable  as 
to  animals,  but  which  had  never  been  em- 
ployed before  the  middle  of  the  seven- 
teenth century.  This  interesting  science 
G  is  almost  wholly  due  to  two  men, 
v'  Grew  and  Malpighi.  Grew  first  di- 
rected his  thoughts  towards  the  anatomy 
of  plants  in  1664,  in  consequence  of  read- 
ing several  books  of  animal  anatomy, 
which  suggested  to  him  that  plants,  being 
the  works  of  the  same  Author,  would  prob- 
ably show  similar  contrivances.  Some 
had  introduced  observations  of  this  nature, 
as  Highmore,  Sharrock,  and  Hooke,  but 
only  collaterally  ;  so  that  the  systematic 
treatment  of  the  subject,  following  the 
plant  from  the  seed,  was  left  quite  open 
for  himself.  In  1670  he  presented  the 
first  book  of  his  work  to  the  Royal  Socie- 
ty, who  next  year  ordered  it  to  be  print- 
ed. It  was  laid  before  the  society  in 
print,  December,  1671 ;  and  on  the  same 
day,  a  manuscript  by  Malpighi,  on  the 
same  subject,  was  read.  They  went  on 
from  this  time  with  equal  steps  ;  Malpi- 
ghi, however,  having  caused  Grew's  book 
to  be  translated  for  his  own  use.  Grew 
speaks  very  honourably  of  Malpighi,  and 
without  claiming  more  than  the  statement 
of  facts  permits  him.* 

27.  The  first  book  of  his  Anatomy  of 
His  Anatomy  Plants,  which  is  the  title  given 
of  Plants.       to  three  separate  works,  when 
published  collectively   in    1682,  contains 
the  whole    of  his   physiological  theory, 
which  is  developed  at  length  in  those  that 
follow.     The  nature  of  vegetation  and  its 
processes  seem  to  have  been  unknown 
when  he  began,  save  that  common  obser- 
vation and  the  more  accurate  experience 
of  gardeners  and  others  must  have  collect- 
ed the  obvious  truths  of  vegetable  anato- 
my.    He  does  not  quote  Caesalpin,  and 
may  have  been  unacquainted  with  his  wri- 
tings.    No  man,  perhaps,  who  created  a 
science  has  carried  it  farther  than  Grew  ; 
lie  is  so  close  and  diligent  in  his  observa- 
tions, making  use  of  the  microscope,  that 
comparatively  few  discoveries  of  great  im- 
portance have  been  made  in  the  mere  anat- 
omy of  plants  since   his  time  ;|  though 
some  of  his  opinions  are  latterly  disputed 
by  Mirbel  and  others  of  a  new  botanical 
school. 

28.  The   great    discovery  ascribed   to 


*  Pulteney.    Chalmers.     Biogr.  Univ.    Sprengel 
calls  Grew's  book  opus  absolutuin  et  immortale. 
f  Biogr.  Univ. 


Grew  is  of  the  sexual  system  in  „ 
plants.  He  speaks  thus  of  what  m  ,K» 
he  calls  the  attire,  though  rath-  ual  system 
er,  1  think,  in  obscure  terms  :  "  The  pri- 
mary and  chief  use  of  the  attire  is  such  as 
hath  respect  to  the  plant  itself,  and  so  ap- 
pears to  be  very  great  and  necessary.  Be- 
cause even  those  plants  which  have  no 
flower  or  foliature  are  yet  some  way  or 
other  attired,  either  with  the  seminiform 
or  the  floral  attire.  So  that  it  seems  to 
perform  its  service  to  the  seeds  as  the  fo- 
liature to  the  fruit.  In  discourse  hereof 
with  our  learned  Savilian  professor,  Sir 
Thomas  Millington,  he  told  me  he  con- 
ceived that  the  attire  doth  serve,  as  the 
male,  for  the  generation  of  the  seed.  I 
immediately  replied  that  I  was  of  the  same 
opinion,  and  gave  him  some  reasons  for 
it,  and  answered  some  objections  which 
might  oppose  them.  But  withal,  in  regard 
every  plant  is  appevoftr/toc,  or  male  and  fe- 
male, that  I  was  also  of  opinion  that  it 
serveth  for  the  separation  of  some  parts 
as  well  as  the  affusion  of  others."*  He 
proceeds  to  explain  his  notion  of  vegeta- 
ble impregnation.  It  is  singular  that  he 
should  suppose  all  plants  to  be  hermaph- 
rodite, and  this  shows  he  could  not  have 
recollected  what  had  long  been  known  as 
to  the  palm,  or  the  passage  in  Caesalpin 
relative  to  the  subject. 

29.  Ray  admitted  Grew's  opinion  cau- 
tiously at  first :   Nos  ut  veri-  ramenmus 
similem    tantum    admittimus.  confirms  this. 
But  in  his  Sylloge  Stirpium,  1694,  he  fully 
accedes  to  it.     The  real  establishment  of 
the  sexual  theory,  however,  is  due  to  Cam- 
erarius,  professor  of  botany  at  Tubingen, 
whose  letter  on   that  subject,  published 
1694,  in  the  work  of  another,  did  much  to 
spread  the  theory  over  Europe.     His  ex- 
periments, indeed,  were  necessary  to  con- 
firm what  Grew  had  rather  hazarded  as  a 
conjecture  than  brought  to  a  test ;  and  he 
showed  that  flowers  deprived  of  their  stam- 
ina do  not  produce  seed  capable  of  con- 
tinuing the  species. f    Woodward,  in  the 
Philosophical  Transactions,  illustrated  the 
nutrition  of  plants,  by  putting  sprigs  of 
vegetables  in  vials  filled  with  water,  and, 
after  some  time,  determining  the  weight 
they  had  gained  and  the  quantity  they  had 
imbibed.}:    These  experiments  had  been 
made  by  Van  Helmont,  who  had  inferred 
from  them  that  water  is  convertible  into 
solid  matter.^ 

30.  It  is  just  to  observe  that  some  had 


«  Book  iv.,  ch.  1.    He  had  hinted  at  some  "  pri- 
mary and  private  use  of  the  attire"  in  book  i..  ch.  &. 
t  Sprengel.     Biogr.  Univ.    Pulteney,  p.  338. 
J  Thomson's  Hist,  of  Royal  Society,  p  58. 
t,  Thomson's  Hist,  of  Chemistry. 


428 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


Predecessors  preceded  Grew  in  vegetable 
jf  Grew.  physiology.  Aromatari,  in  a  let- 
ter of  only  four  pages?  published  at  Venice 
in  1625,  on  the  generation  of  plants  from 
seed,  \\hich  was  reprinted  in  the  Philo- 
sophical Transactions,  showed  the  analo- 
gy between  grains  and  eggs,  each  contain- 
ing a  minute  organized  embryo,  which  em- 
ploys the  substances  enclosing  it  for  its 
own  development.  Aromatari  has  also 
undertsood  the  use  of  the  cotyledons.* 
Brown,  in  his  Inquiry  into  Vulgar  Errors, 
has  remarks  on  the  budding  of  plants,  and 
on  the  quinary  number  they  affect  in  their 
flower.  Kenelm  Digby,  according  to 
Sprengel,  first  explained  the  necessity  in 
vegetation  for  qxygen  or  vital  air,  which 
had  lately  been  discovered  by  Bathurst. 
Hooke  carried  the  discoveries  hitherto 
made  in  vegetable  anatomy  much  farther 
in  his  Micrographia.  Sharrock  and  Lister 
contributed  some  knowledge,  but  they 
were  rather  later  than  Grew.  None  of 
these  deserve  such  a  place  as  Mal- 
Maipigiu.  pighj^  who,  says  Sprengel,  was  not 
inferior  to  Grew  in  acujteness,  though, 
probably,  through  some  illusions  of  preju- 
dice, he  has  not  so  w^ll  understood  and 
explained  many  things.  But  the  structure 
and  growth  of  seed  he  has  explained  bet- 
ter, and  Grew  seems  to  have  followed  him. 
His  book  is  also  better  arranged  and  more 
concise. f  The  Dutch  did  much  to  enlarge 
botanical  science.  The  Hortus  Indicus 
Malabaricus  of  Rheede,  who  had  been  a 
governor  in  India,  was  published  at  his 
own  expense  in  twelve  volumes,  the  first 
appearing  in  1686  ;  it  contains  an  immense 
number  of  new  plants.;]:  The  Herbarium 
Amboinense  of  Rumphius  was  collected  in 
the  seventeenth  century,  though  not  pub- 
lished till  1741.$  Several  botanical  gar- 
dens were  formed  in  different  countries  ; 
among  others,  that  of  Chelsea  was  opened 
in  1686-1 

31.  It  was  impossible  that  men  of  in- 
Early  notion*  quiring  tempers  should  not  have 
of  geology,  been  led  to  reflect  on  those  re- 
markable phenomena  of  the  earth's  visi- 
ble structure,  which,  being  in  course  of 
time  accurately  registered  and  arranged, 
have  become  the  basis  of  that  noble  sci- 
ence, the  boast  of  our  age,  geology.  The 
first  thing  which  must  strike  the  eyes  of 
the  merest  clown,  and  set  the  philosopher 
thinking,  is  the  irregularity  of  the  surface 
of  our  globe  ;  the  more  this  is  observed, 
the  more  signs  of  violent  disruption,  and 
of  a  prior  state  of  comparative  uniformity 

*  Sprengel.     Biogr.  Univ.        t  Sprengel,  p.  15. 
t  Biogr.  Univ.    The  date  of  the  first  volume  is 
given  erroneously  in  the  Biographic  Universelle. 
$  I«L  ||  Sprengel.    Pulteney. 


appear.  Some,  indeed,  of  whom  Ray 
seems  to  have  been  one,*  were  so  much 
impressed  by  the  theory  of  final  causes, 
that,  perceiving  the  fitness  of  the  present 
earth  for  its  inhabitants,  they  thought  it 
might  have  been  created  in  such  a  state 
of  physical  ruin.  But  the  contrary  infer- 
ence is  almost  irresistible.  A  still  more 
forcible  argument  for  great  revolutions  in 
the  history  of  the  earth  is  drawn  from  a 
second  phenomenon  of  very  general  oc- 
currence, the  marine  and  other  fossil  relics 
of  organized  beings,  which  are  dug  up  in 
strata  far  remote  from  the  places  where 
these  bodies  could  now  exist.  It  was 
common  to  account  for  them  by  the  Mot- 
saic  deluge.  But  the  depth  at  which  they 
are  found  was  incompatible  with  this  hy- 
pothesis. Others  fancied  them  to  be  not 
really  organized,  but  sports  of  nature,  aa 
they  were  called,  the  casual  resemblances 
of  shells  and  fishes  in  stone.  The  Ital- 
ians took  the  lead  in  speculating  on  these 
problems  ;  but  they  could  only  arrive  now 
and  then  at  a  happier  conjecture  than 
usual,  and  do  not  seem  to  have  planned 
any  scheme  of  explaining  the  general 
structure  of  the  earth. f  The  Mundus 
Subterraneus  of  Athanasius  Kircher,  fa- 
mous for  the  variety  and  originality  of  his 
erudition,  contains  probably  the  geology 
of  his  age,  or,  at  least,  his  own.  It  was 
published  in  1662.  Ten  out  of  twelve 
books  relate  to  the  surface  or  the  interior 
of  the  earth,  and  to  various  terrene  pro- 
ductions ;  the  remaining  two  to  alchymy 
and  other  arts  connected  with  mineralogy. 
Kircher  seems  to  have  collected  a  great 
deal  of  geographical  and  geological  knowl- 
edge. In  England,  the  spirit  of  observa- 
tion was  so  strong  after  the  establishment 
of  the  Royal  Society,  that  the  Philosoph- 
ical Transactions  in  this  period  contain 
a  considerable  number  of  geognostic  pa- 
pers, and  the  genius  of  theory  was  arous- 
ed, though  not  at  first  in  his  happiest 
mood.J 

32.  Thomas  Burnet,  master  of  the  Char- 
ter House,  a  man  fearless  and  Burners 
somewhat  rash,  with  more  ima-  Theory  of 
gination  than  philosophy,  but  in-  ' 
genious  and  eloquent,  published  in  1694 
his  Theoria  Telluris  Sacra,  which  he  af- 
terward translated  into  English.  The  pri- 
mary question  for  the  early  geologists  had 
always  been  how  to  reconcile  the  phae- 
nomena  with  which  they  were  acquainted 
to  the  Mosaic  narratives  of  the  creation 

*  See  Ray's  Three  Physico-Theoloeical  Dis- 
courses on  the  Creation,  Deluge,  and  final  Confla- 
gration, 1692. 

t  Lyell's  Principles  of  Geology,  vol.  i.,  p.  25. 

j  Thomson's  Hist,  of  Royal  Society. 


FROM  1650  TO  1700. 


429 


and  deluge.    Every  one  was  satisfied  that 
his  own  theory  was  the  best ;  but  in  ev- 
ery case  it  has  hitherto  proved,  whatever 
may  take  place  in  future,  that  the  pro- 
posed scheme  has  neither  kept  to  the  letter 
of  Scripture  nor  to  the  legitimate  deduc- 
tions  of  philosophy.     Burnet  gives  the 
reins  to  his  imagination  more  than  any 
other  writer  on  that  which,  if  not  argued 
upon  by  inductive  reasoning,  must  be  the 
dream  of  one  man,  little  better  in  reality, 
though  it  may  be  more  amusing,  than  the 
dream  of  another.     He  seems  to  be  emi- 
nently ignorant  of  geographical  facts,  and 
has  hardly  ever  recourse  to  them  as  evi- 
dence.    And,  accordingly,  though  his  book 
drew  some  attention  as  an  ingenious  ro- 
mance, it  does  not  appear  that  he  made  a 
other  ge-  single  disciple.     Winston  opposed 
oiogtsts.    Burnet's  theory,  but  with  one  not 
less  unfounded,  nor  with  less  ignorance  of 
all  that  required  to  be  known.     Hooke, 
Lister,  Ray,  and  Woodward  came  to  the 
subject  with  more   philosophical  minds, 
and  with  a  better  insight  into  the  real 
phenomena.     Hooke  seems  to  have  dis- 
played his  usual  sagacity  in  conjecture  ; 
he  saw  that  the  common  theory  of  ex- 
plaining marine  fossils  by  the  Mosaic  del- 
uge would  not  suffice,  and  perceived  that, 
at  some  time  or  other,  a  part  of  the  earth's 
crust  must  have  been  elevated  and  another 
part  depressed    by  some   subterraneous 
power.     Lister  was  aware  of  the  continu- 
ity of  certain  strata  over  large  districts 
and  proposed  the  construction  of  geologi 
cal  maps.     Woodward  had  a  still  more  ex- 
tensive knowledge  of  stratified  rocks;  he 
was  in  a  manner  the  founder  of  scientific 
mineralogy  in  England,  but  his  geological 
theory  was  not  less  chimerical  than  thosp 
of  his"  contemporaries.*    It  was  first  pub- 
lished in  the  Philosophical  Transaction 

for  1695.  f 

33  The  Protogaea  of  Leibnitz  appears 
proton  or  in  felicity  of  conjecture  and  nn- 
i,eibnitz.  nute  attention  to  facts,  far  above 
any  c<  these.  But  this  short  tract  wa 
only  published  in  1749,  and,  on  reading  it 
1  have  found  an  intimation  that  it  was  no 
written  within  the  seventeenth  century 
Yet  I  cannot  refrain  from  mentioning  tha 
his  hypothesis  supposes  the  gradual  cool 
ing  of  the  earth  from  igneous  fusion  ;  tin 
formation  of  a  vast  body  of  water  to  cove 
the  surface,  a  part  of  his  theory  but  ill  es 
tablished,  and  apparently  the  weakest  o 
the  whole ;  the  subsidence  of  the  lowe 
parts  of  the  earth,  which  he  takes  to  hav 
been  once  on  the  level  of  the  highes 
mountains,  by  the  breaking  in  of  vaultc 


Lyell,  p.  31. 


t  Thomson,  p.  207 


averns  within  its  bosom  ;*  the  deposition 
f  sedimentary  strata  from  inundations, 
leir  induration,  and  the  subsequent  cov- 
ring  of  these  by  other  strata  through 
resh  inundations ;  with  many  other  no- 
ions  which  have  been  gradually  matured 
nd  rectified  in  the  process  of  the  science. f 
STo  one  can  read  the  Protogsea  without 
icrceiving  that  of  all  the  early  geologists. 
>r,  indeed,  of  all  down  to  a  time  not  very 
emote,  Leibnitz  came  nearest  to  the  the- 
ries  which  are  most  received  in  the  Eng- 
ish  school  at  this  day.  It  is  evident  that 
f  the  literal  interpretation  of  Genesis,  by 
i  period  of  six  natural  days,  had  not  re- 
trained him,  he  would  have  gone  much 
arther  in  his  views  of  the  progressive 
•evolutions  of  the  earth. J  Leibnitz  had 
made  very  minute  inquiries,  for  his  age, 
nto  fossil  species,  and  was  aware  of  the 
nain  facts  which  form  the  basis  of  mod- 
rn  geology.^ 


SECT.  III.     ON  ANATOMY  AND  MEDICINE. 

34.  PORTAL  begins  the  history  of  this 
)eriod,  which  occupies  more  than  eight 
lundred  pages  of  his  voluminous  work,  by 
announcing  it  as  the  epoch  most  favour- 
able to  anatomy :  in  less  than  fifty  years 
;he  science  put  on  a  new  countenance ; 
nature  is  interrogated,  every  part  of  the 
aody  is  examined  with  an  observing  spirit ; 


Sect.  21.  He  admits  also  a  partial  elevation 
by  intumescence,  but  says,  ut  vat-tis^iina:  Alpes 
ex  solida  jam  terra  eruptione  surre.xerint,  minus 
consentaneum  puto.  Scin.us  tamen  et  in  illis  de- 
prehendi  reliquias  maris.  Cum  ergo  alterutrum 
fMftnin  onnrtPflt.  crp'iiMlios  rnulto  arbi'ror  rlrfl'JX- 
isse  aquas  spontaneo  nisu.  quam  ingentem  terrarurn 
pattern  incredibili  violentia  tain  site  ascendisse.— 
Sect.  22. 

t  Facies  teneri  adhuc  orlns  ssepms  novata  est ; 
donee  quiescentibus  causis  atque  a?quilihratis,  r on- 
sistentior  ernergeret  status  rerum.  I'mle  jim  du- 
plex origo  intelligitur  firmorum  corporum ;  una 
cum  ignis  fusionc  refrigescerent,  altera  cum  rerun- 
crescerent  ex  solntione  aquarum.  Neque  igitur 
putandum  est  lapides  ex  sda  esse  fwione  Id  enim 
potissimum  de  prima  tatiUim  massa  ex  terra!  baai 
accipio;  NPC  ilnbito.  postea  matenam  liquidamin 
superficie  trlluns  procurrentem,  quiete  mox  reddi- 
ta  ex  ramentis  sub.ictis  inpentem  inaten*  vim  de 
posuissp.  quorum  alia  v^rias  terra;  species  forma- 
runt,  alia  in  saxa  induruere,  e  qnihns  strata  diversa 
sihi  super  imposita  diversas  prsecipitationurn  vices 
atque  intervalla  testantur.— Sect.  4 

This  he  calls  the  incunabula  of  the  world,  an 
the  basis  of  a  new  science,  which  might  be  denomi- 
nated "  naturals  geographia."    But  w.sely  adds, 
licet  conspirent  vestigia  vetens  mundi  in  prasei 
facie  rerum,  tamen  rectius  omma  dehment  posten, 
ubi  cunositas  eo  processed,  ut  per  region^  pro- 
currentia  soli  genera  et  strata  describant.-faect.  5. 

J  See  sect.  21,etahbi. 

()  Sect.  24,  et  usque  ad  ftnem  Ubn. 


430 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


the  mutual  intercourse  of  nations  diffuses 
the  light  on  every  side  ;  a  number  of  great 
men  appear,  whose  genius  and  industry 
excite  our  admiration.*  But  for  this  very 
reason  I  must,  in  these  concluding  pages, 
glide  over  a  subject  rather  foreign  to  my 
own  studies,  and  to  those  of  the  generality 
of  my  readers,  with  a  very  brief  enumera- 
tion of  names. 

35.  The  Harveian  theory  gained  ground, 
Circulation   though  obstinate  prejudice  gave 
oittie biooa   way  but  slowly.     It   was  con- 

Mtablislied.    firmed     fay    thfi     experjment     of 

transfusing  blood,  tried  on  dogs,  at  the  in- 
stance of  Sir  Christopher  Wren,  in  1657, 
and  repeated  by  Lower  in  1661.J  Malpi- 
ghi  in  1661,  and  Leeuwenhoek  in  1690,  by 
means  of  their  microscopes,  demonstrated 
the  circulation  of  the  blood  in  the  smaller 
vessels,  and  rendered  visible  the  anasto- 
moses of  the  arteries  and  veins,  upon 
which  the  theory  depended. |  From  this 
time  it  seems  to  have  been  out  of  doubt. 
Pecquet's  discovery  of  the  thoracic  duct, 
or,  rather,  of  its  uses,  as  a  reservoir  of  the 
chyle  from  which  the  blood  is  elaborated, 
for  the  canal  itself  had  been  known  to 
Eustachius,  stands  next  to  that  of  Harvey, 
which  would  have  thrown  less  light  on 
physiology  without  it,  and,  like  his,  was 
perseveringly  opposed.^ 

36.  Willis,  a  physician  at   Oxford,  is 
Wiiiis.       called  by  Portal,  who  thinks  all 
Vieussens    mankind  inferior  to  anatomists, 
one  of  the  greatest  geniuses  that    ever 
lived  :  his  bold  systems  have  given  him  a 
distinguished  place  among  physiologers.|j 
His    Anatomy   of  the   Brain,  in   which, 
however,  as  in  his  other  works,  he  was 
much  assisted  by  an  intimate  friend,  and 
anatomist  of  the  first  character.  Lower, 
is,  according  to  the  same  writer,  a  mas- 
terpiece of  imagination  and  labour.     He 
made  many  discoveries  in  the  structure  of 
the  brain,  and  has  traced  the  nerves  from 
it  far  better  than  his  predecessors,  who 
had,  in  general,  very  obscure  ideas  of  their 
course.     Sprengel  says  that  Willis  is  the 
first  who  has  assigned  a  peculiar  mental 
function  to  each  of  the  different  parts  of 
the  brain ;  forgetting,  as  it  seems,  that  this 
hypothesis,  the  basis  of  modern  phrenol- 
ogy, had  been  generally  received,  as  I  un- 
derstand his  own  account,  in  the  sixteenth 
century.^    Vieussens  of  Montpelier  car- 
ried on  the  discoveries  in  the  anatomy  of 
the  nerves,  in  his  Neurographia  Univer- 
ealis,  1684  ;  tracing  those  arising  from  the 

•  Hist,  de  1'Anatomie,  vol.  iii.,  p.  1. 

t  Sprengel,  Hist,  de  la  M£decine,  vol.  iv.,  p.  120. 

j  Id  ,  p.  126,  142.  $  Portal.     Sprengel. 

||  P.  88.     Biogr.  Univ. 

t  Sprengel,  p.  250.     See  p.  81. 


spinal  marrow  which  Willis  had  not  done, 
and  following  the  minute  ramifications  of 
those  that  are  spread  over  the  skin.* 

37.  Malpighi  was  the  first  who  employ- 
ed good  microscopes  in  anatomy,  Ma|  .}  hj_ 
and  thus  revealed  the  secrets,  we 

may  say,  of  an  invisible  world,  which 
Leeuwenhoek  afterward,  prob-  other  anato- 
ably  using  still  better  instru-  lmsts- 
ments,  explored  with  surprising  success. 
To  Malpighi  anatomists  owe  their  knowl- 
edge of  the  structure  of  the  lungs. f  Graaf 
has  overthrown  many  errors,  and  sug- 
gested many  truths  in  the  economy  of 
generation. |  Malpighi  prosecuted  this  in- 
quiry with  his  microscope,  and  first  traced 
the  progress  of  the  egg  during  incuba- 
tion. But  the  theory  of  evolution,  as  it 
is  called,  proposed  by  Harvey,  and  sup- 
ported by  Malpighi,  received  a  shock  by 
Leeuwenhoek's  or  Hartsoeker's  discov- 
ery of  spermatic  animalcules,  which  ap- 
parently opened  a  new  view  of  reproduc- 
tion. The  hypothesis  they  suggested  be- 
came very  prevalent  for  the  rest  of  the 
seventeenth  century,  though  it  is  said  to 
have  been  shaken  early  in  the  next.^  Bo- 
relli  applied  mathematical  principles  to 
muscular  movements  in  his  treatise  De 
Motu  Animalium.  Though  he  is  a  better 
mathematician  than  anatomist,  he  pro- 
duces many  interesting  facts,  the  mechani- 
cal laws  are  rightly  applied,  and  his  meth- 
od is  clear  and  consequent.  ||  Duverney, 
in  his  Treatise  on  Hearing,  in  1683,  his 
only  work,  obtained  a  considerable  repu- 
tation ;  it  threw  light  on  many  parts  of  a 
delicate  organ,  which  by  their  minuteness 
had  long  baffled  the  anatomist.^f  In  May- 
ow's  Treatise  on  Respiration,  published 
in  London,  1668,  we  find  the  necessity  of 
oxygen  to  that  function  laid  down ;  but 
this  portion  of  the  atmosphere  had  been 
discovered  by  Bathurst  and  Henshaw  in 
1654,  and  Hooke  had  shown  by  experi- 
ment that  animals  die  when  the  air  is  de- 
prived of  it.**  Ruysch,  a  Dutch  physician, 
perfected  the  art  of  injecting  anatomical 
preparations,  hardly  known  before,  and 
thus  conferred  an  inestimable  benefit  on 
the  science.  He  possessed  a  celebrated 
cabinet  of  natural  history. |f 

38.  The  chymical  theory  of  medicine, 
which  had  descended  from  Paracel-  Medical 
sus    through   Van   Helmont,   was  theories, 
propagated  chiefly  by  Sylvius,  a  physician 


*  Portal,  vol.  iv.,p.  5.     Sprengel,  p.  256.     Biogr. 
Univ.  t  Portal,  iii ,  120.     Sprengel,  p.  578. 

+  Portal,  iii.,  219.     Sprengel,  p.  303. 
$  Sprengel,  p.  309. 
||  Portal,  iii.,  246.     Biogr.  Univ. 
T  Portal,  p.  464.     Sprengel,  p.  288. 
**  Portal,  p.  176,  181. 
ft  W.,  p.  259.    Biogr.  Univ. 


FROM  1650  TO  1700. 


431 


of  Holland,  who  is  reckoned  the  founder 
of  what  was  called  the  chymiatric  school 
His  works  were  printed  at  Amsterdam  h 
1679,  but  he  had  promulgated  his  theory 
from  the  middle  of  the  century.  His  lead- 
ing principle  was  that  a  perpetual  ferment- 
ation goes  on  in  the  human  body,  from  the 
deranged  action  of  which  diseases  pro- 
ceed ;  most  of  them  from  excess  of  acidi- 
ty, though  a  few  are  of  alkaline  origin. 
"  He  degraded  the  physician,"  says  Spren- 
gel,  "  to  the  level  of  a  distiller  or  a  brew- 
er."* This  writer  is  very  severe  on  the 
chymiatric  school,  one  of  their  offences  in 
his  eyes  being  their  recommendation  of 
tea ;  "  the  cupidity  of  Dutch  merchants 
conspiring  with  their  medical  theories." 
It  must  be  owned  that  when  we  find  them 
prescribing  also  a  copious  use  of  tobacco, 
it  looks  as  if  the  trade  of  the  doctor  went 
hand  in  hand  with  those  of  his  patients. 
Willis,  in  England,  was  a  partisan  of  the 
chymiatrics,t  and  they  had  a  great  influ- 
ence in  Germany ;  though  in  France  the 
attachment  of  most  physicians  to  the  Hip- 
pocratic  and  Galenic  methods,  which 
brought  upon  them  so  many  imputations 
of  pedantry,  was  little  abated.  A  second 
school  of  medicine,  which  superseded  this, 
is  called  the  iatro-mathematical.  This 
seems  to  have  arisen  in  Italy.  Borelli's 
application  of  mechanical  principles  to 
the  muscles  has  been  mentioned  above. 
These  physicians  sought  to  explain  every- 
thing by  statical  and  hydraulic  laws ;  they 
were  therefore  led  to  study  anatomy, 
since  it  was  only  by  an  accurate  knowl- 
edge of  all  the  parts  that  they  could  apply 
their  mathematics.  John  Bernouilli  even 
taught  them  to  employ  the  differential  cal- 
culus in  explaining  the  bodily  functions. J 
But  this  school  seems  to  have  had  the 
same  leading  defect  as  the  chymiatric  ;  it 
forgot  the  peculiarity  of  the  laws  of  or- 
ganization and  life,  which  often  render 
those  of  inert  matter  inapplicable.  Pit- 
cairn  and  Boerhaave  were  leaders  of  the 
iatro-mathematicians;  and  Mead  was  reck- 
oned the  last  of  its  distinguished  patrons. $ 
Meantime,  a  third  school  of  medicine  grew 
up,  denominated  the  empirical ;  a  name  to 
be  used  in  a  good  sense,  as  denoting  their 
regard  to  observation  and  experience,  or 
the  Baconian  principles  of  philosophy. 
Sydenham  was  the  first  of  these  in  Eng- 
land ;  but  they  gradually  prevailed  to  the 
exclusion  of  all  systematic  theory.  The 
discovery  of  several  medicines,  especially 


the  Peruvian  bark,  which  was  first  used 
in  Spain  about  1640,  and  in  England  about 
1654,  contributed  to  the  success  of  the 
empirical  physicians,  since  the  efficacy  of 
some  of  these  could  not  be  explained  on 
the  hypotheses  hitherto  prevalent.* 


*  Vol.  v.,  p.  59.     Biogr.  Univ. 

t  Sprengel,  p.  73.  t  Id.,  p.  159. 

$  Id.,  p.  182.  See  Biographic  Universelle,  art. 
Boerhaave,  for  a  general  criticism  of  the  iatro- 
mathematicians. 


SECT.  IV.     ON  ORIENTAL  LITERATURE. 

39.  THE  famous  Polyglott  of  Brian  Wal- 
ton was  published  in  1657;  but  i'0iygi0it 
few  copies  appear  to  have  been  0|  waiwn. 
sold  before  the  restoration  of  Charles  IJ. 
in  1660,  since  those  are  very  scarce  which 
contain  in  the  preface^the  praise  of  Crom- 
well for  having  facilitated  and  patronised 
the  undertaking;  praise  replaced  in  the 
change  of  times  by  a  loyal  eulogy  on  the 
king.  This  Polyglott  is  in  nine  languages, 
though  no  one  book  of  the  Bible  is  printed 
in  so  many.  Walton's  Prolegomena  are 
in  sixteen  chapters  or  dissertations.  His 
learning,  perhaps,  was  greater  than  his 
critical  acuteness  or  good  sense  ;  such,  at 
least,  is  the  opinion  of  Simon  and  Le  Long. 
The  former,  in  a  long  examination  of 
Walton's  Prolegomena,  treats  him  with  all 
the  superiority  of  a  man  who  possessed 
both.  Walton  was  assailed  by  some  big- 
ots at  home  for  acknowledging  various 
readings  in  the  Scriptures,  and  for  deny- 
ing the  authority  of  the  vowel  punctua- 
tion. His  Polyglott  is  not  reckoned  so 
magnificent  as  the  Parisian  edition  of  Le 
Long,  but  it  is  fuller  and  more  conve- 
nient.! Edmund  Castell,  the  coadjutor  of 
Walton  in  this  work,  published  his  Lexi- 
con Heptaglotton  in  1669,  upon  which  he 
dad  consumed  eighteen  years  and  the 
whole  of  his  substance.  This  is  frequently 
old  together  with  the  Polyglott. 

40.  Hottinger  of  Zurich,  by  a  number 
of  works  on  the  Eastern  Ian-  no,,inger 
guages,  and  especially  by  the 
Bibliofheca  Orientalis  in  1658,  established 
a  reputation  which  Ihese  books  no  longer 
retain  since  the  whole  field  of  Oriental  lit- 
rature  has  been  more  fully  explored. 
Spencer,  in  a  treatise  of  great  eru-  8pencCT 
dition,  De  Legibus  Hebraeorum, 
1685,  gave  some  offence  by  the  suggestion 
that  several  of  the  Mosaic  institution! 
were  borrowed  from  the  Egyptian,  though 
he  general  scope  of  the  Jewish  law  was 
in  opposition  to  the  idolatrous  practices 
of  the  neighbouring  nations.  The  vast 
learning  of  Bochart  expanded  itself 
over  Oriental  antiquity,  especially 


»  Sprengel,  p.  413. 

t  Simon,  Hist.  Critique  Ju  Vienx  Testament,  p. 
541.  Chalmers.  Biogr.  Briian.  Biogr.  Um».  Bru- 
net.  Man.  du  Libiaire. 


432 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE 


that  of  which  the  Hebrew  nation  and  lan- 
guage is  the  central  point ;  but  his  etymo- 
logical conjectures  have  long  since  been 
set  aside,  and  he  has  not  in  other  respects 
escaped  the  fate  of  the  older  Orientalists. 

41.  The  great  services  of  Pococke  to 
Pococke   Ara'3ic  literature,  which  had  com- 
menced in  the  earlier  part  of  the 

century,  were  extended  to  the  present. 
His  edition  and  translation  of  the  Annals 
of  Eutychius  in  1658,  that  of  the  History 
of  Abuifaragius  in  1663,  with  many  other 
works  of  a  similar  nature,  bear  witness  to 
his  industry ;  no  Englishman  probably  has 
ever  contributed  so  much  to  that  province 
of  learning.*  A  fine,edition  of  the  Koran, 
and  still  esteemed  the  best,  was  due  to 
Marracci,  professor  of  Arabic  in  the  Sapi- 
enza  or  University  of  Rome,  and  publish- 
ed at  the  expense  of  Cardinal  Barbadigo, 
in  1698. f  But  France  had  an  Orientalist 
of  the  most  extensive  learning  in 

I)  Herbelot.   ,-,,rT      ,     ,    ,  r»-i_i-    ».u  - 

D  Herbelot,  whose  Bibhotheque 
Orientale  must  be  considered  as  making  an 
epoch  in  this  literature.  It  was  published 
in  1697,  after  his  death,  by  Galland,  who 
had  also  some  share  in  arranging  the  ma- 
terials. This  work,  it  has  been  said,  is 
for  the  seventeenth  century  what  the  His- 
tory of  the  Huns  by  De  Guignes  is  for 
the  eighteenth :  with  this  difference,  that 
D'Herbslot  opened  the  road,  and  has  often 
been  copied  by  his  successor.! 

42.  Hyde,  in  his  Religionis  Persarum 
H  de    Historia,  published  in  1700,  was  the 

first  who  illustrated  in  a  systematic 
manner  the  religion  of  Zoroaster,  which 
he  always  represents  in  a  favourable  man- 
ner. The  variety  and  novelty  of  its  con- 
tents gave  this  book  a  credit  which  in 
some  degree  it  preserves ;  but  Hyde  was 
ignorant  of  the  ancient  language  of  Persia, 
and  is  said  to  have  been  often  misled  by 
Mohammedan  authorities. $•  The  vast  in- 
crease of  Oriental  information  in  modern 
times,  as  has  been,  intimated  above*,  ren- 
ders it  difficult  for  any  work  of  the  seven- 
teenth century  to  keep  its  ground.  In 
their  own  times,  the  writings  of  Kircher 
on  China,  and,  still  more,  those  of  Ludolf 
on  Abyssinia,  which  were  founded  on  his 
own  knowledge  of  the  country,  claimed  a 
respectable  place  in  Oriental  learning.  It 
is  remarkable  that  very  little  was  yet 
known  of  the  Indian  languages,  though 
grammars  existed  of  the  Tamul,  and  per- 
haps some  others,  before  the  close  of  the 
seventeenth  century.  || 


*  Chalmers.     Bio/ir.  Univ. 

t  Tiraboschi,  xi.,398. 

j  Biographic  Universelle. 

U  Eichhorn,  Gescti.  der  Cultur,  v.,  269. 


Id. 


SECT.  V.     ON  GEOGRAPHY  AND  HISTORT. 

43.  THE  progress  of  geographical  sci- 
ence long  continued  to  be  slow.  Maps  of  the 
If  we  compare  the  map  of  the  Bausons. 
world  in  1651,  by  Nicolas  Sanson,  esteem- 
ed on  all  sides  the  best  geographer  of  his 
age,  with  one  by  his  son  in  1692,  the  va- 
riances will  not  appear,  perhaps,  so  con- 
siderable as  we  might  have  expected.    Yet 
some  improvement  may  be  detected  by 
the  eye.     Thus  the  Caspian  Sea  has  as- 
sumed its  longer  diameter  from  north  to 
south,  contrary  to  the  old  map.     But  the 
Sea  of  Aral  is  still  wanting.     The  coasts 
of  New  Holland,  except  to  the  east,  are 
tolerably  laid  down,  and  Corea  is  a  penin- 
sula instead  of  an  island.     Cambalu,  the 
imaginary  capital  of  Tartary,  has  disap- 
peared ;*  but  a  vast  lake  is  placed  in  the 
centre  of  that  region ;  the  Altai  range  is 
carried  far  too  much  to  the  north,  ana  the 
name  of  Siberia  seems  unknown.     Africa 
and  America  have  nearly  the  same  outline 
as  before ;  in  the  former,  the  Empire  of 
Monomotopa    stretches   to  join   that   of 
Abyssinia  in  about  the  12th  degree  of  south 
latitude  ;  and  the  Nile  still  issues,  as  in  all 
the  old  maps,  from  a  lake  Zayre,  in  near- 
ly the  same  parallel.     The  coasts  of  Eu- 
rope, and  especially  of  Scandinavia,  are  a 
little  more  accurate.     The  Sanson  family, 
of  whom  several  were  publishers,  of  maps, 
did  not  take  pains  enough  to  improve  what 
their  father  had  executed,  though  they 
might  have  had  material  helps  from  the 
astronomical    observations    which    were 
now  continually  made  in  different  parts  of 
the  world. 

44.  Such  was  the  state  of  geography 
when,  in  1699,  De  Lisle,  the  real  pe  ysie's 
founder  of  the  science,  at  the  age  map  of  tiie 
of  twenty-four,  published  his  map  world- 

of  the  world.  He  had  been  guided  by  the 
observations,  and  worked  under  the  direc- 
tions of  Cassini,  whose  tables  of  the 
emersion  of  Jupiter's  satellites,  calculated 
for  the  meridian  of  Bologna  in  1668,  and, 
with  much  improvement,  for  that  of  Paris 
in  1693,  had  prepared  the  way  for  the  per- 
fection of  geography.  The  latitudes  of 
different  regions  had  been  tolerably  ascer- 
tained by  observation  ;  but  no  good  meth- 
od of  determining  the  longitude  had  been 
known  before  this  application  of  Galileo"^ 
great  discovery.  It  is  evident  that  the 
appearance  of  one  of  those  satellites  at 
Paris  being  determined  by  the  tables  to 
a  precise  instant,  the  means  were  given  to 
find  the  longitudinal  distance  of  other 


*  The  Camhalu  of  Marco  Polo  is  probably  Pe- 
kin  ;  but  the  geographers  frequently  placed  this  cap- 
ital of  Cathay  north  of  the  wall  of  China. 


FROM  1650  TO  1700. 


433 


places  by  observing  the  difference  of  time ; 
and  thus  a  great  number  of  observations 
having  gradually  been  made,  a  basis  was 
laid  for  an  accurate  delineation  of  the  sur- 
face of  the  globe.  The  previous  state  of 
geography,  and  the  imperfect  knowledge 
which  the  mere  experience  of  navigators 
could  furnish,  may  be  judged  by  the  fact 
that  the  Mediterranean  Sea  was  set  down 
with  an  excess  of  300  leagues  in  length, 
being  more  than  one  third  of  the  whole. 
De  Lisle  reduced  it  within  its  bounds,  and 
cut  off,  at  the  same  time,  500  leagues  from 
the  longitude  of  Eastern  Asia.  "This  was 
the  commencement  of  the  geographical 
labours  of  De  Lisle,  which  reformed,  in 
the  first  part  of  the  eighteenth  century, 
not  only  the  general  outline  of  the  world, 
but  the  minuter  relations  of  various  coun- 
tries. His  maps  amount  to  more  than 
one  hundred  sheets.* 

45.  The  books  of  travels,  in  the  last  fif- 
Voyages  and  ty  years  of  the  seventeenth  cen- 
traveis.         tury,  were  far  more  numerous 
and  more  valuable  than  in  any  earlier  pe- 
riod, but  we  have  no  space  for  more  than 
a  few  names.     Gemelli  Carreri,  a  Neapol- 
itan, is  the  first  who  claims  to  have  writ- 
ten an  account  of  his  own  travels  round 
the  world,  describing  Asia  and  America 
with  much  detail.     His  Giro  del  Mondo 
was  published  in  1699.     Carreri  has  been 
strongly  suspected  of  fabrication,  and  even 
of  having  never  seen  the  countries  which 
he  describes;  but  his  character,  I  know 
not  with  what  justice,  has  been  latterly 
vindicated.!     The  French  justly  boast  the 
excellent  travels  of  Chardin,  Bernier,  The- 
venot,  and  Tavernier  in  the  East ;  the  ac- 
count of  the  Indian  Archipelago  and  of 
China  by  Nieuhoff,  employed  in  a  Dutch 
embassy  to  the  latter  empire,  is  said  to 
have    been  interpolated   by  the   editors, 
though  he  was  an  accurate  and  faithful 
observer.J      Several   other  relations   of 
voyages  were  published  in  Holland,  some 
of  which  can  only  be  had  in  the  native 
language.      In   English  there    were    not 
many  of  high  reputation  :  Dampier's  Voy- 
age round  the  World,  the  first  edition  of 
which  was  in  1697,  is  better  known  than 
any  which  I  can  call  to  mind. 

46.  The  general  characteristics  of  his- 

torians in  this  period  are  neither 
Historians.  a  ]umjnous  philosophy  nor  a  rig- 
orous examination  of  evidence.  But,  as 
before,  we  mention  only  a  few  names  in 
this  extensive  province  of  literature.  The 

*  Eloge  de  De  Lisle,  in  (Euvres  de  Fontenelle, 
vol.  vi.,  p.  253.  Eloge  de  Cassini,  in  vol.  v.,  p.  328. 
Biogr.  Universelle. 

t  Tiraboschi,  xi.,  86.     Salfi,  xi.,  442. 

j  Biogr.  Univ. 

VOL.  II.— 3  I 


History  of  the  Conquest  of  Mexico,  by  An- 
tonio de  Solis,  is  "  the  last  good 
work,"  says  Sismondi,  perhaps  too  De  Soli8' 
severely,  "  that  Spain  has  produced ;  the 
last  where  purity  of  taste,  simplicity,  and 
truth  are  preserved ;  the  imagination,  of 
which  the  author  had   given    so  many 
proofs,  does  not  appear."*    Bouterwek  is 
not  less  favourable  ;  but  Robertson,  who 
holds  De  Solis  rather  cheap  as  an  histo 
rian,  does  not  fail  to  censure  even  hi 
style. 

47.  The  French  have  some  authors  ol 
history,  who,  by  their  elegance  Memoir?  d 
and  perspicuity,  might  deserve  i>e  Retz. 
notice  ;  such  as   St.  Real,  Father  D'Or- 
leans,  and  even  Varillas,  proverbially  dis- 
credited as  he  is  for  want  of  veracity 
The  Memoirs  of  Cardinal  de  Retz  rise 
above  these ;  their  animated  style,  their 
excellent  portraitures  of  character,  their 
acute  and  brilliant  remarks,  distinguish 
their  pages  as  much  as  the  similar  quali- 
ties did  their  author.    "  They  are  written," 
says  Voltaire,  "  with  an  air  of  greatness, 
an  impetuosity  and  an  inequality  which 
are  the  image  of  his  life  ;  his  expression, 
sometimes  incorrect,  often  negligent,  but 
almost  always  original,  recalls  continually 
to  his  readers  what  has  been  so  frequent- 
ly said'of  Caesar's  Commentaries,  that  he 
wrote  with  the  same  spirit  that  he  carried 
on  his  wars."f    The  Memoirs  of  Gram- 
mont,  by  Antony  Hamilton,  scarcely  chal- 
lenge a  place  as  historical,  but  we  are  now 
looking  more  at  the  style  than  tfie  intrin- 
sic importance  of  books.     Every  one  is 
aware  of  the  peculiar  felicity  and  fascina- 
ting gayety  which  they  display. 

48.  The  Discourse  of  Bossuet  on  Uni- 
versal History  is,  perhaps,  the  Bos8Uet 
greatest  effort  of  his  wonderful  on  univer- 
geniUs.    Every  preceding  abridg-  sai  Hlstory- 
ment  of  so  immense  a  subject  had  been 
superficial  and  dry.     He  first  irradiated 
the  entire  annals  of  antiquity,  down  to  the 
age  of  Charlemagne,  with  flashes  of  light 
that  reveal  a  unity  and  coherence  which 
had  been  lost  in  their  magnitude  and  ob- 
scurity.    It  is  not,  perhaps,  an  unfair  ob- 
jection that,  in  a  history  calling  itself  that 
of  all  mankind,  the  Jewish  people  have 
obtained  a  disproportionate  regard  ;  and  it 
might  be  almost  as  reasonable,  on  religious 
grounds,  to  give  Palestine  a  larger  space 
in  the  map  of  the  world,  as,  on  a  like  pre- 
text, to  make  the  scale  of  the  Jewish  his- 
tory so  much  larger  than  that  of  the  rest 
of  the  human  race.     The  plan  of  Bossuet 
has  at  least  divided  his  book  into  two 


«  Literature  du  Midi,  iv.,  101. 

t  Biogr.  Univ.,  whence  1  take  the  quotation. 


434 


LITERATURE  OF  EUROPE  FROM  1650  TO  1700. 


rather  heterogeneous  portions.  But  his 
conceptions  of  Greek,  and,  still  more,  of 
Roman  history,  are  generally  magnificent ; 
profound  in  philosophy,  with  an  outline 
firm  and  sufficiently  exact,  never  conde- 
scending to  trivial  remarks  or  petty  de- 
tails ;  above  all,  written  in  that  close  and 
nervous  style  which  no  one  certainly  in 
the  French  language  has  ever  surpassed. 
It  is  evident  that  Montesquieu  in  all  his 
writings,  but  especially  in  the  Grandeur 
and  Decadence  des  Romains,  had  the  Dis- 
course of  Bossuet  before  his  eyes  ;  he  is 
more  acute,  sometimes,  and  ingenious,  and 
has  reflected  longer  on  particular  topics  of 
inquiry,  but  he  wants  the  simple  majesty, 
the  comprehensive,  eagle-like  glance  of 
the  illustrious  prelate. 

49.  Though  we  fell  short  in  England  of 
English    tne  historical  reputation  which  the 
hisioricai  first  part  of  the  century  might  en- 
works,     title  us  to  c]ajmj  this  period  may 
be  reckoned  that  in  which  a  critical  atten- 
tion to  truth,  sometimes  rather  too  minute, 
but  always  praiseworthy,  began  to  be  char- 
acteristic of  our  researches  into  fact.    The 

only  book  that  I  shall  mention  is 
Burnet's  History  of  the  Reforma- 
tion, written  in  a  better  style  than  those 
who  know  Burnet  by  his  later  and  more 
negligent  work  are  apt  to  conceive,  and 
which  has  the  signal  merit  of  having  been 
the  first,  as  far  as  I  remember,  which  is 
fortified  by  a  large  appendix  of  documents. 
This,  though  frequent  in  Latin,  had  not 
been  usual*  in  the  modern  languages.  It 
became  gradually  very  frequent  and  al- 
most indispensable  in  historical  writings, 
where  the  materials  had  any  peculiar  ori- 
ginality. 

****** 

50.  The  change  in  the  spirit  of  litera- 

ture,  and  of  the  public  mind  in  gen- 
character  eral,  which  had,  with  gradual  and 
of  the  nth  never-receding  steps,  been  coming 
century.  forwar^  jn  the  seventeenth  centu- 
ty,  but  especially  in  the  latter  part  of  it, 


Burnet. 


has  been  so  frequently  pointed  out  to  the 
readers  of  this  volume,  that  I  shall  only 
quote  an  observation  of  Bayle.  "  I  be- 
lieve," he  says,  "  that  the  sixteenth  cen- 
tury produced  a  greater  number  of  learned 
men  than  the  seventeenth  ;  and  yet  the 
former  of  these  ages  was  far  from  being 
as  enlightened  as  the  latter.  During  the 
reign  of  criticism  and  philology  we  saw  in 
all  Europe  many  prodigies  of  erudition. 
Since  the  study  of  the  new  philosophy  and 
that  of  living  languages  has  introduced  a 
different  taste,  we  have  ceased  to  behold 
this  yast  and  deep  learning.  But,  in  re- 
turn, there  is  diffused  through  the  republic 
of  letters  a  more  subtle  understanding  and 
a  more  exquisite  discernment ;  men  are 
now  less  learned,  but  more  able."*  The 
volumes  which  are  now  submitted  to  the 
public  contain  sufficient  evidence  of  this 
intellectual  progress  both  in  philosophy 
and  in  polite  literature. 

51.  I  here  terminate  a  work  which,  it 
is  hardly  necessary  to  say,  has  ., 

,        -   ,     j    .,  J    .-         J  f         .    Conclusion. 

furnished  the  occupation  of  not 
very  few  years,  and  which,  for  several 
reasons,  it  is  not  my  intention  to  prose- 
cute any  farther.  The  length  of  these  vol- 
umes is  already  greater  than  I  had  antici- 
pated ;  yet  I  do  not  perceive  much  that 
could  have  been  retrenched  without  loss 
to  a  part,  at  least,  of  the  literary  world. 
For  the  approbation  which  the  first  of  them 
has  received  I  am  grateful ;  for  the  few 
corrections  that  have  been  communicated 
to  me  I  am  not  less  so  ;  the  errors  and  de- 
ficiencies of  which  I  am  not  specially 
aware  may  be  numerous  ;  yet  I  cannot  af- 
fect to  doubt  that  I  have  contributed  some- 
thing to  the  general  literature  of  my  coun- 
try, something  to  the  honourable  estima- 
tion of  my  own  name,  and  to  the  inherit- 
ance of  those,  if  it  is  for  me  still  to  cher- 
ish that  hope,  to  whom  I  have  to  bequeath 
it. 


Dictionnaire  de  Bayle,  art.  Aconce,  note  D. 


INDEX. 


ABBADIE,  M.,  his  treatise  on  Christianity,  ii.,  292. 
Abelard,  Peter,  era  and  disciples  of,  i.,  13. 
Abelard  and  Eloisa,  i.,  39,  40. 
Abernethy,  Mr.,  ii.,  301. 

Abraham,  the  intended  sacrifice  of  Isaac  by,  ii.,  125. 
Absalom  and  Achitophel  of  Dryden,  ii.,  378.     Sec- 
ond part  by  Tate,  ib. 

Abulfaragius,  translation  of,  by  Pococke,  ii.,  432. 
Abyssinia,  Ludolf  on,  ii.,  432. 
Academy,  the  French,  established  by  Richelieu,  ii., 
225,  226.  History  of,  ib.  Its  objects  and  con- 
stitution, 226.  Sentiments  of,  respecting  the 
"  Cid"  of  Corneille,  226,  n.,  89.  Its  labours, 
ib.  French  Academy  of  Sciences,  400,  420. 
Academies  of  the  learned  in  Italy,  i.,  117,  129, 
242-244,384,411  ;  ii  ,221,269,420.  The  Society 
of  Arcadians,  i.,  328 ;  ii.,  369.  The  Royal  Society 
of  London,  ii.,  89,  420,  428.  Literary  Societies 
of  Germany,  172. 

Accursius,  school  of  law,  i.,  55,  322. 
Acidalms,  philologist,  i ,  248. 
Aconcio,  or  Acpntius,  "  de  Stratagematibus  Sata- 

nas,"  i.,  282,  ii.,  48.     His  logic,  i.,  297. 
Acosta,  history  of  the  Indies  by,  i.,  407. 
Adam  and  Kve  ol  Milton,  ii  ,  374,  et  sey. 

,  relative  rights  of  his  offspring,  ii.,  133. 

,  Melchior,  i ,  255. 

Adami,  Tobias,  his  Frodromus  Philosophise  Instau- 

ratio,  ii.,  63 

Addison,  Joseph,  remarks  of,  ii.,  333. 
Adelard  of  bath.,  his  Kuclid's  Elements,  i.,  77. 
Adimari,  Alessandro,  translator  of  Pindar,  ii.,  166. 
Adrian  VI  ,  pontificate  of.  i.,  174. 
Adriani,  cur.tmuator  of  Guicciardmi's  History,  i , 

409. 

Adversaria,  class  of,  i.,  247  ;  ii.,  275. 
/Egypt,  history  and  chronology  of,  ii.,  278. 
^Eschylus,  ii.,  377.     By  Thoi  >as  Stanley,  ii.,  275. 
Agostmi,  his  continuation  of  the  "  Orlando  Innamo- 

rato,"  i.,  130. 

Agricola  of  Saxony,  mineralogist,  i.,  240. 
,  a  restorer  of  learning,  i.,  75.    His  erudi- 
tion, 121,  122. 

Agrippa,  Cornelius,  i.,  172;  ii.,  65. 
Ailly,  Peter  d',  i.,  285. 
Air,  atmospheric,  ii,  254.     Specific  gravity  of,  ib. 

Mercury  used  in  determining  its  pressure,  ib. 
Alabaster,  his  tragedy  of  Roxana,  ii.,  186,  187. 
Alamanni,  principles  of,  i.,  195.    The  sonnets  of, 
217.     Sublimity  of  his  poetry,  ib.    Severity  of  his 
satire,  ib. 

Albano,  paintings  of,  i.,  336. 
Albaten,  Arabian  geometrician,  i.,  98. 
Albertus  Magnus,  philosophical  works  of,  i.,  31,  n., 

60,  400. 

Alciati,  Andrew,  of  Milan,  restorer  of  the  Roman 
law,  i,  215.    His  classical  revision  of  obsolete 
and  obscure  terms,  215,  321. 
Alcmous,  ii.,  300. 
Alcuin,  poems  of,  i., 26,28.    "  De  Pontificibus  Ecc. 

Kboracensis"of,  28,  n. 
Aldi  Neacademia,  i.,  143. 
A  Id  rich,  his  treatise  on  logic,  ii ,  299. 
Aldrovandus,  his  Collections  on  Zoology,  i.,  399, 

401  ;  ii.,  256. 
Aldus  Manutius,  his  press,  i.,  143.    The  Aldine 


types,  ib.     Editions  of  classics,  &c.,  151,  176, 
177.    Academy  at  Venice,  established  by,  242. 
Aleander,  Professor  of  Greek,  i.,  144. 
Aleman,  Matthew,  his  "  Guzman  d'Alfarache,"  i., 

389. 

Alexander  ab  Alexandra,  his  "  Geniales  Dies,"  L, 
176,  266. 

,  Sir  William,  earl  of  Stirling,  ii.,  180. 

Alexandrine  verse,  i.,  39.    Monotony  of,  344;  ii., 

172,  177. 
Alfred,  king,  i.,  32. 

Algebra,  science  of,  i.,  234 ;  ii.,  240,  316.  Cubic 
equations,  i.,  234.  Positive  and  negative  roots, 
235  Biquadratic  equations,  236.  Algebraic  lan- 
guage symbolical,  ib.  Letters  to  express  indefi- 
nite quantities,  ib.  Albert  Girard's,  ii.,  244. 
Wailis's  History  of,  245.  Discoveries  in,  i.,  391. 
392,  394. 

Alhazen,  i.,  396. 

Allen,  the  Jesuit,  i.,  286,  310. 

Almanac  for  1457,  the  first  printed,  i.,  97. 

Almeloveen,  his  Lives  of  the  Stephens  family,  L, 
219,  n. 

Alpinus,  Prosper,  "  de  Plantis  Exoticis,"  i.,  402. 

Althusius,  John,  his  "  Politics,"  ii.,  133,  134. 

Alva,  Duke  of,  i.,311. 

Alvarez,  Emanuel,  grammarian,  i.,  257. 

"  Amadigi,"  the  (or  Atnadis),  of  Bernardo  Tasso,  i., 
332. 

Amadis  de  GanI,  romance  of,  i.,  168  ;  ii.,  235. 

Amaltei,  brothers  and  Latin  poets,  i.,  356. 

Amaseo,  Komolo,  i ,  230,  231. 

Ambrogio,  Teseo,  Oriental  scholar,  i.,  241. 

Ambrose  of  Bergamo,  named  Bifarius,  i ,  68. 

America,  discovery  of,  i.,  148.     Rights  of  Spain  in 
South,  324,  325.     Writers  on  this  question,  325 
Animals  of,  400. 
,  North,  discoveries  in,  i.,  407. 

Ammianus  Marcellinus,  ii.,  274. 

Amyot,  Jaques,  Plutarch  translated  by,  i.,  378. 

Amyraut,  trench  Protestant  writer,  ii ,  43.        nnn 

Anabaptists,  the,  i.,  187.  Their  occupation  of  the 
town  of  Munster,  193.  Their  tenets,  281 ;  ii.,  41, 
144. 

Anacreon,  ii.,  166,  168. 

Anatomy,  early  works  on,  i.,  147,  148,  237.  Prog- 
ress of  discoveries  in,  238, 403,  404  ;  ii.,  259.  OD 
comparative,  424.  Writers  on,  429,  et  pattim. 

Anaxagoras,  philosophy  of,  li.,  64,  74. 

Andreae,  John  Valentine,  n  ,  130. 

Andreini,  the  "  Adamo,"  and  other  dramas  of,  ii., 
188. 

Andres,  the  Jesuit,  i.,  321,361;  ii ,  53.  On  the  use 
and  era  of  paper,  of  linen,  &c.,  i.,  51,  n.  CriU 
cisms  of,  232. 

Andrews,  Lancelot,  ii.,  26,  30. 

Angelica,  of  Boiardo,  i.,  130. 

Anglo-Saxon  poetry,  i..  29.    Language,  4I>. 

Anguillara,  Italian  translator  of  Ovid,  i.,  333.  Hu 
dramas,  359. 

Animals,  Natural  History  of,  ii.,  256, 257.  "  Icone« 
Animalium"  of  Gesner,  i.,  399.  Description  of 
various,  399,  400;  ii.,  423,424. 

Annius,  of  Viterbo,  ii.,  23. 

Anselm,  Archbishop,  on  the  existence  of  a  Deity,  L, 
31,  n.,  57. 


436 


INDEX. 


Antiquaries,  Society  of,  in  England,  i.,  411,  412. 

Antiquities,  on,  i.,  266,  et  stq. ;  ii.,  23.  On  the  Ro- 
man, i.,  176,  177,  266,  268  ;  ii.,  22.  Thesauri  of 
Graevius  and  Gronovius,  on,  ii.,  277.  Potter's 
Antiquities  of  Greece,  23, 277.  Meursius  on  Gre- 
cian, 23.  Ecclesiastical,  the  works  of  Parker 
and  Godwin,  i.,  266.  Collections  of,  in  Italy,  410. 
Deceptions  practised,  ii.,23.  Jewish  antiquities, 
54. 

Antiquity,  veneration  for,  i.,  73,  174 ;  ii ,  35,  269. 
Controversy  on  the  comparative  merit  of,  270. 

Antonio,  Nicolas,  the  "  Bibliotheca  Nova"  of,  i., 
181,  264. 

de  Dominis,  Archbishop,  "  de  Republic^ 

Ecclesiastica,"  ii.,  37,  n.     On  the  rainbow  and 
solar  rays,  255. 

Apianus,  the  Cosmography  oft  i.,  241,  242. 

Apollonius,  geometry  of,  i.,  395. 

Apologues,  or  Parables  of  Andrea,  ii.,  130,  n. 

Aquila,  Serafino  d',  poet,  i.,  131. 

Aquinas,  Thomas,  his  authority  as  a  scholastic  wri- 
ter, i.,  32.  His  works,  ib.,  n.,  279,  299  ;  ii.,  119, 
123.  „ 

Arabian  physicians,  the,  i.,  237.  Their  school  of 
medicine,  ib.  Literary  and  scientific  authorities, 
400.  Mathematicians,  98.  Nights'  Entertain- 
ments, 241. 

writers  early  employed  cotton  paper,  i.,  50. 

A  MS.  version  of  Hippocrates,  ib. 

Arabic,  study  of,  i.,  241 ;  ii.,  263.  Eminent  schol- 
ars, i.,  241 ;  ii.,  265.  Arabic  lexicon,  265. 

Arantius,  i.,  404.  On  the  pulmonary  circulation, 
ii.,  260. 

"  Arcadia,"  Sir  Philip  Sidney's,  i.,  381, 390;  ii.,270. 

"  Arcadia,"  the,  of  Sannazaro,  i.,  148,  220,  389. 

Archimedes,  i.,395.    Inventions  of,  ii., 240, 242, 243. 

Aretino,  Pietro,  i.,  226,  333,  378. 

,  Leonardo,  surnamed  also  Bruni,  his  La- 

tinity,  i.,  64.     His  polished  style,  65,  70.    Lives 
of  Dante  and  Petrarch,  by,  100. 

"  Argenis,"  Barclay's,  ii.,  19,  237. 

Argens,  his  Jewish  Letters,  ii.,  417,  418. 

Argensola,  Bartholomew,  ii.,  167. 

,  Lupercio,  ii.,  167. 

Argentier,  his  medical  school,  i.,  238.  Novel  prin- 
ciple asserted  by,  ib.,  n. 

Argonne,  d',  Benedictine,  under  the  name  of  Vig- 
neul  Marville,  ii.,  224,  402,  403,  n. 

Argyropulus,  Greek  grammarian,  i.,  93,  94. 

Arian  doctrine,  the,  i.,  195.  Arianism  in  Italy,  195, 
196.  In  England,  ii.,  288. 

Ariosto,  his  Orlando  Furioso,  i.,  166-168,  332,  335, 
354.  Its  delightful  episodes,  167.  His  satires 
analyzed  by  Ginguen6,  217.  Rivals  Horace,  217, 
n.  His  Epicurean  philosophy  and  gayety,  217. 
Comedies  of,  225.  Comparison  with  Tasso,  334, 
335,  336,  386.  With  Spenser,  353. 

Aristarchus,  sive  de  Arte  grammatical  of  G.  Vossius, 
ii.,  21. 

Aristides,  version  of,  i.,  248. 

Aristophanes,  by  Aldus,  i.,  128.  The  "  Wasps"  of, 
ii.,  392. 

Aristotle,  his  philosophy,  i.,  117,  290,  291,297,298; 
ii.,  60.  His  physics,  i.,  397.  Metaphysics,  ii., 
59,  298,  299,  308,  334.  Opponents  of,  i.,  292.— 
See  Philosophy.  His  poetics,  i.,  384;  ii.,  274. 
Rules  for  Greek  tragedy,  ii.,  226.  Definition  of 
comedy,  397.  History  of  animals,  i.,  399.  Edi- 
tions of,  ii.,  16.  See  also  i.,  320. 

Arminianism,  ii.,  43,  et  infrh. 
Arminians  of  Holland,  i.,  279 ;  ii.,  45, 286.    Of  Eng- 
land, 38,  287. 

Arminius,  James,  Professor  at  Leyden,  ii.,  42. 
Arnauld,  Antoine,  French  controversial  writer,  ii., 
91,281,284,285.    His  "  Art  de  Penser,"308, 329. 
"  On  true  and  false  Ideas,"  317.     His  objections 
to  the  "  Meditationes"  of  Descartes,  ii.,  94. 


Arnauld,  Angelica,  ii ,  2S5. 

Arndt's  "  True  Christianity,"  ii.,  56. 

Aromatari,  botanical  writer,  ii.,  428. 

Arrebo,  Norwegian  poet,  ii.,  174. 

"  Ars  magna,"  by  Jerome  Cardan,  the  algebraist,  i., 

234,235. 

— ,  of  Raymond  Lully,  i.,  171,  172,  n. 

Artedi,  works  of,  i.,  401. 

Ascham,  his  treatise  of  the  "  Schoolmaster,  i.,  263, 

380.     His  Toxophilus,  232. 
Asellius,  his  discovery  of  the  lacteals,  ii.,  262. 
Asia,  voyages  to  India,  China,  &c.,  i.,  406,  407, 408, 

409. 

"  Asolani,"  the,  of  Bembo.  i.,  147. 
Astronomy,  treatise  of  Copernicus  on  the  heavenly 

bodies,  ].,  236,  293;  ii.,  82.     State  of  the  science 

of,  240.    Works  of  Kepler,  247.    Of  Tycho  Brahe, 

247. 

Atheism,  refutation  of,  ii.,  301. 
Atterbury,  Dr.,  ii.,  276. 
Aubigne',  Agrippa  d',  his  "  Baron  de  Faeneste,"  ii., 

239. 

Aubrey's  Manuscripts,  ii.,  89,  n. 
Augerianus,  i.,  383. 

Augsburg,  the  Confession  of,  i.,  188,  271,  277. 
Auguis,  Recueil  des  Anciens  Poe'tes,  by,  i.,  342. 
Augurellus,  i.,  383. 
Augustin,  "de  Civitate  Dei,"  ii.,  17.    His  system 

of  divinity,  i.,  279.     The  anti-Pelagian  writings 

of,  ii.,  284.     The  "  Augustines"  of  Jansenius,  ib. 

Doctrine  of,  95,  286,  et  passim.    Controversy  on 

Grace  and  Free-will,  40. 
Augustinus,  archbishop  of  Tarragona,  i.,  266. 

,  on  Civil  law,  i.,  321. 

Aungerville,  his  library,  i.,  74. 

Aunoy,  Comtesse  d',  novels  of,  ii.,  416. 

Aurispa,  John,  i ,  70. 

Autos,  or  spiritual  dramas,  of  Gil  Vicente,  i.,  146. 

Sacramentales,  Spanish,  361. 
Averani,  ii.,  381. 
Averroes,  disciples  of,  i.,  33.     His  doctrines,  117, 

291,  292. 
Ayala,  Balthazar,  i.,  286.     On  the  rights  of  war,  325. 

BACON,  Lord,  his  Henry  VII.,  ii.,  86,231.  Its  phil- 
osophical spirit,  267.  His  Essays,  i.,  304  ;  ii ,  127. 
Maxims  of,  270.  His  Philosophy,  69-90,  289, 
326.  Letter  to  Father  Fulgentio,  69,  n.  Philos- 
ophy in  Medicine,  i.,  237.  On  the  Advancement 
of  Learning,  ii ,  70, 73, 75,  87.  De  Interpretations 
Naturae,  59,  n.  De  Augmentis  Scientiarum,  70, 
87,  &c.  His  Instauratio  Magna,  70.  Divided 
into  Partitiones  Scientiarum,  ib.  Novum  Or- 
ganum,  70,  88.  Natural  History,  71.  Scala  In- 
tellectus,  ib.  Anticipationes  Philosophise,  72. 
Philosophia  secunda,  ib  Course  of  studying  his 
works,  ib.  Nature  of  the  Baconian  Induction, 
73.  His  dislike  of  Aristotle,  74.  Fine  passage 
on  poetry,  75.  Natural  theology  and  metaphys- 
ics, ib.  Final  causes,  76.  Man,  ib.  Man  in 
body  and  mind,  ib.  Logic,  77.  Grammar  and 
rhetoric,  ib.  Ethics,  ib.  Politics,  ib.  Theolo- 
gy, 78.  Desiderata  enumerated  by  him,  ib.  First 
book  of  the  Novum  Organum,  78,  87.  Fallacies 
and  idola,  78.  Confounded  with  idols,  ib.  Sec- 
ond book  of  the  Novum  Organum,  79.  His  con- 
fidence, 80.  Limits  to  our  knowledge  by  sense, 
81.  Inductive  logic,  ib.  His  philosophy  found- 
ed on  observation  and  experiment,  82.  Farther 
summary  of  his  works,  83-90.  His  prejudice 
against' mathematics,  88.  His  wit,  88,  128.  His 
fame,  ib.  Occasional  references  to  his  opinions 
and  authority,  i.,  172,  297,  410,  n.;  ii.,  161,250, 
301,  318,  326.  n.,  431. 

Bacon,  Roger,  i.,  60,  77.  His  "  Opus  Majus"  and 
inventions,  77.  His  resemblance  to  Lord  Bacon, 
ib.  Optics  by,  397. 


INDEX. 


437 


Badius  Ascensius,  i.,  179. 
Badius,  Jodocus,  printer,  i.,  155. 
Baif,  Lazarus,  French  poet,  i.,  180,  342,  343,  n. 
Baillet,  his  opinion  of  Henry  Stephens,  i.,  250.    His 
"  Jugemens  des  Sgavans,"  ii.,  184,  n.,  273,  274. 
His  "  Life  of  Descartes,"  103,  n.,  305,  n.,  402. 
Baius,  his  doctrine  condemned  by  Pius  V.,  ii.,  284, 
285.     Controversy  raised  by,  i.,  279. 

Balbi,  John,  the  "  Catholicon"  of,  i.,  61. 

Balde,  his  "  Sylva?,"  ii.,  186. 

Baldi,  his  "  La  Nautica,"  i.,  332.     Sonnets  of,  328. 

Balduin,  on  Roman  law,  i.,  266. 

Baldus,  jurisconsult,  i.,  55. 

Baldwin  of  Wittenberg,  ii.,  125. 

Ballads,  Spanish,  i.,  340.  German,  344.  English 
and  Scottish,  351,  368. 

Balzac,  ii.,  89.  His  critique  on  Heinsius,  185.  His 
"  Letters,"  223,  224,  225.  His  morality  and  elo- 
quence, 224.  "Apology  for  Balzac,''  ib-  His 
style,  401,  404. 

Bandello,  novels  of,  i.,  388;  ii.,  217. 

Barbaro,  Francis,  ethical  "  Dialogues"  of,  i.,  74. 

Barbeyrac,  commentator  on  Grotius  and  Puffendorf, 
ii.,  148,  162,  346,  353,  362. 

Barbier,  d'Aucour,  his  attack  on  Bonhours'  Entre- 
tiens,  ii.,  404.  On  the  Turkish  Spy,  418,  n. 

Barbour,  John,  his  Scottish  poem  of  The  Bruce,  i., 
46. 

Barclay,  author  of  "  Argenis  and  Euphormio,"  ii., 
19,  237,  238. 

,  William,  "  de  Regno  et  Regali  Potestate," 

i.,  309  ;  ii.,  26,  144. 

Baret  or  Barrett,  John,  his  Lexicon,  i.,  263. 

Bark,  Peruvian,  ii.,  431. 

Barlaeus,  Caspar,  Latin  poems  of,  ii.,  185,  376,  n. 

Baronius,  Cardinal,  "Annals of  Ecclesiastical  His- 
tory" of,  i.,  245,  260,  288.  Continued  by  Sponda- 
nus,  ii.,  53. 

Barros,  J.  de,  his  "  Asia,"  i.,  407. 

Barrow,  Dr.  Isaac,  Greek  professor,  ii.,  275,  383. 
His  Sermons,  284,  287,  296. 

Barthius,  Gaspar,  his  "  Pornobosco-didascalus,"  i., 
146.  His  "  Adversaria,"  ii.,  18. 

Barthplin,  physician,  ii.,  262. 

Bartoli,  Jesuit,  his  writings,  ii.,  221. 

Bartolus,  jurist,  i.,  55,  322. 

Basle,  council  of,  i.,  285. 

Basson,  Sebastian,  ii.,  64. 

Bathurst  discovers  vital  air,  ii.,  430. 

"  Battle  of  the  Books,"  the,  ii.,  419. 

Baudius,  Dominic,  i.,  357. 

Bauhin,  John  and  Gaspar,  their  works  on  botany, 
ii.,  258. 

,  Gerard,  his  "  Phytopinax,"  i ,  403. 

Baxter,  William,  his  Anacreon,  ii.,  275.  His  Com- 
mentary on  Latin,  ib. 

,  Richard,  Treatise  on  the  Grotian  doctrines, 

ii.,  35,  n. 

Bayard,  le  Chevalier,  memoirs  of,  i.,  242. 

Bayle,  his  critical  remarks,  i.,  260;  ii.,  89,  n.  His 
"Philosophical  Commentary  on  Scripture,"  293. 
"Avis  aux  Refugies,"  the,  362.  His  "  Nouvelles 
de  la  Republique  des  Lettres,"  407,  408.  His 
"  Pensees  sur  la  Comete  de  1680,"  408.  His 
Historical  and  Critical  Dictionary,  ib.  Charac- 
ter of  his  works,  408,  409.  His  Dictionary,  ob- 
servation of,  434. 

Beattie,  Dr.  William,  Essay  on  Truth  of,  ii.,  92,  n. 

Beaumont  and  Fletcher,  their  conjunct  theatre: 
The  Woman-hater,  ii.,  207.  Corruption  of  their 
text,  ib.  The  Maid's  Tragedy,  ib.  Criticism  on, 
ib.  Philaster,  208.  King  and  No  King,  ib.  The 
Elder  Brother,  ib.  The  Spanish  Curate,  a 
The  Custom  of  the  Country,  ib.  The  Loya 
Subject.ib.  Beggar's  Bush, 210.  The  Scornful 
Lady,  ib.  Valentinian,  ib.  Two  Noble  Kins- 
men,  ib.  The  Faithful  Shepherdess,  183,  206 


211.  Rule  a  Wife  and  Have  a  Wife,  211.  The 
Knight  of  the  Burning  Pestle,  ib.  Various  other 
of  Fletcher's  plays,  ib.  Origin  of  Fletcher's  com- 
edies, 212.  Defects  of  the  plots,  212,  213,  n. 
Sentiments  and  style,  dramatic,  212.  Charac- 
ters, 213.  Their  tragedies  inferior  to  their  com 
edies,  ib.  Their  female  portraitures,  ib.  Criti- 
cisms on,  213. 

Beaumont,  Sir  John,  his  "  Bosworth  Field,"  ii.,  178. 
Becanus,  principles  of,  ii.,  131. 
Beccari,  Agostini,  i.,  359. 
Becker,  his  Physica  Subterranea,  ii.,  421. 
Beda,  his  censure  of  Erasmus,  i.,  189. 
Bede,  the  venerable,  i.,  27. 
Bekker,  his  "  Monde  enchante,"  ii.,  298. 
Behinen  or  Boehm,  Jacob,  ii ,  65. 
Behn,  Mrs.,  ii.,  397,  417. 
Beloe's  Anecdotes  of  Literature,  ii.,  16,  n 
Bellarmin,  Cardinal,  a  Jesuit,  i.,  279,  n  ,  284.    The 
chief  controversial  writer  of  Rome,  284,  286 ;  ii , 
279.    Replies  by  his  adversaries  named  "Anti- 
Bellarmmus,"  i.,  285.    His  "Answer  to  James 
I ,"  ii.,  26. 
Bellay,  French  poet,  i.,  342,  343.    Latin  poems  of, 

356. 

Bellenden,  his  treatise  "de  Statu,"  ii.,  131. 
Bellius,  Martin  (or  Castalio),  i.,  282. 
Bello,  Francesco,  surnamed  il  Ciecp,  i.,  131. 
Bellori,  Italian  antiquarian  writer,  ii.,  277. 
Belon,  Travels  of,  Natural  History  by,  i ,  400,  402. 
Beinbus,  i.,  383  ;  ii.,  21. 

Bembo,  Pietro,  mannerism  of,  i.,  147.    The  "Aso- 
lani"  of,ib.    An  imitator  of  Petrarch,  and  in  Lat- 
in of  Cicero,  216.    Has  more  of  art  than  nature, 
ib.     Beauties  and  defects  of,  ib.    Tassoni's  cen- 
sure of,  for  adopting  lines  from  Petrarch,  ib.    Hi« 
elegance,  148,  174,  231,  384.    "Le  Prose,"  by, 
232.     Latin  poems  of,  225.     Retires  from  the 
world  to  enjoy  his  library,  231. 
Benacus,  the  lake,  i.,  225. 
Benedetti,  geometrician,  i ,  396. 
Benedictines,  i,  58.     Of  St.  Maur,  the  "Histoire 

litte"raire  de  la  France,"  by  the,  31.  49. 
Benefices,  Sarpi's  Treatise  on,  ii.,  26,  27.     History 

of  the  Council  of  Trent,  27. 
Beni,  his  commentary  on  the  poetics  of  Aristotle,  i, 

384  ;  ii.,  222. 

Benivieni,  poetry  of,  i.,  131. 
Benserade,  French  court  poet,  ii.,  371. 
Bentham,  Jeremy,  ii.,  343. 

Bentivoglio,   Cardinal,  his   Letters,  ii.,  220.     His 

Civil  Wars  of  Flanders,  267.    Satires  of,  i.,  332. 

Bentley,  Dr.  Richard,  his  epistle  to  Mill,  ii.,  276. 

On  the  epistles  of  Phalaris,  ib. 
Benzoni,  "  in  Novi  Orbis  Historia,"  i.,  402. 
Berenger  of  Carpi,  his  fame  as  an  anatomist,!., 238, 

ii.,  259. 
Bergerac,  Cyrano  de,  his  "  Le  Pedant  joue,"ii.,  176. 

His  Romances,  415. 

Berigard,  Claude,  his  "  Circuli  Pisani,"  ii.,  64. 
Berkeley,  Bishop,  works  of,  ii.,  92,  328,  330. 
Bermudez,  tragedies  of,  i.,  364. 
Berni,  his  "  Orlando  Innamorato,"  i.,  167, 194.    His 
lighter  productions,  194.    Boiardo's  poem  of  Or- 
lando, rewritten  by,  218.    Ludicrous  poetry  na- 
med after  him,  Poesia  Bemesca,  ib. 
Bernier's  Epitome  of  Gassendi,  ii.,  305,  329. 

Travels,  ii.,  433. 

Bernonilli,  John,  on  the  Differential  calculus,  ii.,431. 
Beroaldo,  librarian  of  the  Vatican,  i.,  148. 
Berquin,  Louis,  French  martyr,  i.,  191,  n. 
Bessanon,  Cardinal,  his  "  Adversus  calummatorem 

Platonis,"  i.,  94. 
Bethune,  Mr.  Drinkwater,  his  Life  of  Galileo,  n., 

249. 

Beza,  "de  Haereticis  puniendis,"  i.,  282,  287.     Hit 
I  ali  Testament,  290.     Latin  poetry  of,  356 


438 


INDEX. 


Bibbiena,  Cardinal,  his  comedy  of  "  Calandra,"  i., 
146. 

Bible,  the,  i.,  96,  193,  194;  ii.,  263,  264,  275.  In 
modern  languages  prohibited  by  the  pope  and 
burned,  i ,  413.  The  Sistine  Bible,  290.  That 
by  Clement  VIII,  ib.  Protestant  Bibles  and 
Testaments,  ib.  Genevan  Bible,  ib.  Coverdale's 
Bible,  ib.  The  Bishop's  Bible,  ib.,;  ii.,  58.  Eng- 
lish Bible,  translated  under  the  authority  of 
James  1 ,  58.  See  Scriptures. 

Bibliographical  works,  i.,  412. 

Bibhotheca  Universalis,  of  Gesner,  i.,  412. 

Bibliotheque  Universelle,  of  Le  Clerc,  ii.,  286. 

Bibliotheques,  Universelle,  Choisie,  et  Ancienne  et 
Moderne,  celebrity  of  these  reviews,  ii.,  286. 

,  Franchises,  of  La  Crou,  and  of  Ver- 

dier,  i ,  387,  412. 

Biddle,  Unitarian  writer,  ii.,  288. 

Bilson,  bishop  of  Winchester,  i.,  311,  n. 

Biographic  Universelle,  the,  i.,  357,  n.,  et  passim. 

Blackfnore's  poems,  ii.,  380. 

Blaew,  his  "  Mappemonde,"  &c.,  ii.,  266. 

Blank  verse,  first  introduction  of,  i.,  223,  346.  Mil- 
ton's, ii.,  374.  Of  Marlowe,  i.,  369.  Of  other 
authors,  371. 

Blomfield,  Dr.  Charles,  bishop  of  London,  on  the 
corruption  of  the  Greek  language,  i.,  69,  n.  Ar- 
ticle in  the  Quarterly  Review,  178,  n. 

Blondel,  controversialist,  ii.,  43,  53. 

Blood,  circulation  of  the,  ii.,  259-262,  430. 

Boccacio,  criticism  on  his  taste  and  Latin  works,  i., 
62,  230  His  "  Eclogues,"  63.  His  Novels,  229. 
His  "  Genealogia  Deorum,"  269.  His  "  Decame- 
rone,"  231.  His  "de  Casibus  Virorum  lllustri- 
um,"  345. 

Boccalmi,  Trajan,  ii.,  220.  His  Ragguagli  di  Par- 
nasso,  220,  269. 

Bochart,  the  "  Geographia  Sacra"  of,  ii.,  264.  His 
"  Hierozoicon,"  265.  His  works  on  Hebrew,  &c., 
431. 

Bodin,  John,  writings  of,  i.,  289  ;  ii.,  132,  229.  His 
"  Republic,"  i.,  312-320.  Comparison  of,  with 
Machiavel  and  Aristotle,  320.  With  Montesquieu, 
ib.  See  321,  n. 

Bodius,  Alexander,  i.,358. 

Bodley,  Sir  Thomas,  founder  of  the  Bodleian  Li- 
brary at  Oxford,  i ,  410;  ii.,  267.  Its  catalogue, 
268.  Its  Oriental  Manuscripts,  265. 

Boerhaave,  works  of,  ii ,  431. 

Boetie,  Etienne  de  la,  "  Le  Contr'  IJn"  of,  i.,  305. 

Boethius,  his  Consolation  of  Philosophy,  i ,  25. 

Boiardo,  Matteo  Maria,  count  of  Scandinao,  i.,  130. 
His  Orlando  Innamorato  reviewed,  130,  167. 

Boileau,  satire  of,  ii.,  236,  237,  37<i.  Praises  Mal- 
herbe,  171.  His  "  Epitres,"  370.  "  Art  of  Poe- 
try," ib.  Comparison  with  Horace,  ib.  His  Lu- 
tnn,  165,  n.,  371,  381,  419.  Character  of  his  po- 
etry, 371,  414. 

Bois  or  Boyse,  Mr.,  reviser  of  the  English  transla- 
tion of  the  Bible,  i.,  262. 

Boisrobert,  French  academician,  ii.,  225. 

Bologna,  University  of,  i.,  33. 

Bombelli,  Algebra  of,  i.,  394. 

Bon,  Professor  of  Civil  Law,  ii.,  365,  n. 

Bonarelli,  his  Filli  di  Sciro,  a  pastoral  drama,  ii., 
188. 

Bonamy,  literary  essays  of,  i.,  34. 

Bond,  John,  his  notes  on  Horace,  ii.,  18. 

Bonfadio,  correspondence  of,  i.,  378. 

Bonnefons  or  Bonifonius,  i.,  357. 

Books,  the  earliest  printed,  i ,  95. 

— — ,  prohibition  of  certain,  i.,  4 1 3.    See  Printing. 

Bordone's  Islands  of  the  world,  with  Charts,  i.,  242. 

Borelli,  "de  Motu  Animalium,"  ii.,  430. 

Borghino,  Raffaelle,  treatise  on  Painting  by,  i.,  377. 

Borgia,  Francis,  duke  of  Gandia,  i.,  196. 

Borgo,  Luca  di,  i.,  392. 


Boscan,  Spanish  poetry  of,  i ,  219,  338  ;  ii.,  167. 

Bossuet,  bishop  of  Meaux,  i.,  1C4  ;  li.,  42,  47,  289, 
294.  The  "  Histoire  Universelle"  of,  278,  433 
His  Sermon  before  the  Assembly  of  the  Uallican 
Clergy,  279.  Draws  up  the  four  Articles,  ih.  Hi8 
"Exposition  de  la  Foi  Cathclique,"  281,  282 
Controversial  writings  of,  282,  n  ,  283.  His  "  Vari 
ations  of  the  Protestant  Churches,"  i,  164;  ii. 
283,  287.  Funeral  discourses  of,  295,  399. 

Botal  of  Asti,  i.,  405. 

Botanical  Gardens  instituted,  i.,  239.  At  Marburg 
ib.  At  Pisa  and  at  Padua,  240,  401 . 

Botany,  science  of,  i.,  239,  401.  Writers  on,  h. 
258,271,425,427. 

Botero,  Giovanni,  his  "  Ragione  di  Slato,"  i.,  311 
His  Cosmography,  408.  Of  English  Policy,  ii. 
134. 

Boucher,  "de  justa  Henrici  III.  abdicatione,"  i. 
309. 

Bouchetel,  his  translation  of  the  Hecuba  of  Euripi 
des,  i.,  227. 

Bouhours,  critic  and  grammarian,  ii.,  170.  Hi1. 
"  Entretiens  d'Ariste  et  d'Kugerie,"  402,  403 
Sarcasms  of,  403.  His  "  La  Maniere  cie  bie* 
Penser,"  404. 

Bouillaud,  astronomer,  ii.,  249. 

Bourbon  or  Borbonius,  Latin  poem  of,  ii.,  184,  185. 

Bourdaloue,  le  pere,  style  of  his  sermons,  ii.,  294, 
295. 

Bourdin,  Jesuit,  adversus  Descartes,  ii.,  94. 

Boursault,  his  "  Le  Mercure  Galant,"  ii.,  392,  393. 

Bouterwek,  criticisms  of,  i.,  146,  147,  n.,  219,  226, 
227,  229,  332,  n.,  337,  338,  340,  361,  363,  386 ;  ii., 
167,  170,  172,  n.,  191,  233,  236,  372. 

Boyle,  Charles,  his  controversy  with  Bentley,  ii., 
276. 

,  Robert,  Metaphysical  works  of,  ii.,  421.  Ex- 
tract from,  422.  His  merits  in  physics  and  chyin- 
istry,  ib.  His  literary  character,  ib. 

Bradsha w,  William,  literary  reputation  of,  ii.,  419,  n. 

Brain,  anatomy  of  the,  ii.,  430.     Its  structure,  ib. 

Bramhall,  Archbishop,  ii.,  35,  n. 

Brandt's  History,  ii.,  42. 

Brazil,  Natural  History,  &c.,  of,  ii.,  256. 

Hreboeuf,  his  "  Pharsalie,"  ii.,  372. 

Brentius,  his  controversy,  i.,278. 

Breton,  English  poet,  i.,347.  "  Mavilla"  of,  391,  n. 
-— -  lays,  i.,  41. 

Briggs,  Henry,  mathematician,  ii.,  240,  241.  The 
Binomial  theorem  of,  244. 

Brisson  on  Roman  law,  i.,  266,  322. 

Brito,  Guiiemus,  i.,  59. 

Brooke,  Lord,  style  of  his  poetry  obscure,  ii.,  175. 

Broughton,  Hugh,  i.,  284,  406. 

Brown,  Mr.  George  Armitage,  "  Shakspeare's  au 
tobiographical  poems'"  by,  ii.,  179,  n. 

,  Dr.  Thomas,  ii.,  79. 

Browne,  Sir  Thomas,  his  "  Religio  Medici, "ii.,  129. 

's  Britannia's  Pastorals,  ii.,  178. 

's  Inquiry  into  Vulgar  Errors,  ii.,  270,  428. 

Brucker,  his  History  and  Analysis,  i.,  172,  n.,  291 , 
ii.,  60. 

Brueys,  French  dramatic  author,  ii.,  393. 

Brunfels,  Otto,  the  "  Herbarum  vivae  Eicones"  of, 
i.,  239. 

Bruno,  Jordano,  theories  of,  i.,  172, 293  ;  ii.,  69, 318 
His  philosophical  works,  i.,  293,  295,  395.  Hi» 
pantheism,  294.  On  the  plurality  of  worlds,  295. 
Sonnets  by,  295,  n.,  378.  Various  writings  of,  372 

Bruyere,  La,  Caracteres  de,  ii.,  348. 

Brydges,  Sir  Egerton,  his  British  Bibliographer,  i., 
345.  His  Censura,  382. 

Bucer,  works  of,  circulated  in  a  fictitious  name,  i., 
193. 

Buchanan,  his  Scottish  History,  i.,  258,  409.  "  De 
Jure  Regni,"  265,  306,  308,  362.  His  Latin  poe- 
try, 358  ;  ii.,  185.  His  Psalms,  186. 


INDEX. 


499 


Buckhurst,  Lord  [Thomas  Sackville],  his  Induction 

to  the  Mirrour  of  Magistrates,  i.,  345,  346,  367. 
Budaeus,  woriis  of,  i.,  155,  177,  188,  215,  261.     Th 

Coumieiitani  Linguae  Graecae,  177.    His  observa 

tioris  on  the  Pandects,  145,  215. 
Buhle,  chiefly  copies  Bracket's  Hist.  Phil.,  i.,  291 

292,  293.     Remarks  by,  ii.,  303,  318. 
Bulganni,  i.,  385. 
Bull,  his  "Harmonia  Apostolica,"  iL,  287.     His 

"  Defensio  Fidei  Nicenas,"  288. 
Bullinger,  theologian,  i.,  283. 
Buriel,  Peter,  episiles  of,  i.,  176,  n.,  179. 
Bunyan,  John,  his  "Pilgrim's  Progress,"  i..  1C9 

11.,  417. 

Buonarotti,  Michael  Angelo,  ii.,  330,  n. 
Buonmaitei,  un  the  Lingua  Toscana,  ii.,  221. 
Burgerstlicius,  logician,  11.,  61,  299. 
Burke,  Edmund,  ii.,  66. 
Burleigh,  Lord,  ii.,  42. 
Bunnan,  quotaiiou  from,  ii.,  23. 
Burnet,  Bishop,  his  "  History  of  his  Own  Times," 

ii.,  2b7,  n.   His  " History  ol  the  Reformation," 43 1. 

,  Thomas,  his  "  Archaeologia  Philosophica," 

ii.,  290.     Theory  of  the  Earth  by,  428. 


Burton's  "  Arnuomy  of  Melancholy,"  ii.,  232. 
Bury,  Richard   of,   i.,  61.     His  library,  ib.    His 

"  Philobiblon,"  61,  n. 
Busenbaum,  his  "  Medulla  casuum  Conscientiae," 

ii.,  122. 
Butler,  his  "  Hudibras,"  ii.,  373,  378. 

's  "  Analogy,"  ii.,  342,  n. 

Buxtorf,  the  elder,  Hebraist,  ii.,  264. 

,  the  son,  his  controversy  on  the  text  of 

Scripture,  ii.,  264. 

CABALA,  the  Jewish,  i.,  119. 

Cabot,  Sebastian,  i.,  242,  407. 

Cadamosto,  Venetian,  his  voyages  of  discovery,  i., 
148. 

Cselius  Rhodiginus,  i.,  266,  269. 

Caesalpin,  botanical  writer,  i.,  403;  ii.,  258,  425. 
His  "  Quaestiones  Penpateticae,"  260,  261. 

Cams,  Roman  presbyter,  i ,  30,  n. 

,  Dr,  "on  British  Dogs,"  i ,  401. 

Cajetan,  controversialist,  i ,  285. 

Calderon  de  la  Barca,  Pedro,  tragi-comedies  of,  ii., 
ISO.  Number  of  his  pieces,  ib.  Comedies  of, 
190.  His  "  La  Vida  es  Sueno,"  ib.  His  "  A  Se- 
creto  agravio  secreta  Venganc,a,"  191.  His  style, 
ib.  His  merit  discussed,  192.  His  school,  383. 

Calendar,  the  (Jregonan,  i.,  271. 

Calepio,  Latin  dictionary  of,  i.,  143,  179. 

Cafisto  and  Meliboea,  Spanish  play,  i.,  146.  Its 
great  reputation,  ib. 

Calixtus,  George,  desired  union  in  religion,  ii.,  36, 
42,  n. 

Callistus,  Andronicus,  i.,93. 

Calprenede,  his  "  Cassandra,"  ii.,  236.  His  "  Cle- 
opatra," ib. 

Calvin,  John,  born  in  Picardy,  i.,  192.  His  "  Insti- 
tutes," a  text-book,  179,  192,  287,  n. ;  ii.,  287. 
Their  great  reputation,  i ,  198.  Exposition  of  his 
doctrine,  192.  Received  as  a  legislator  at  Gene- 
va, ib.  His  controversy  with  Cassander,  277. 
Death  of  Servetus,  280,  281,  282 ;  ii.,  48.  Calvin- 
ists  favourable  to  republican  institutions,  133. 
Their  doctrines,  35,  36,  41,  139,  282,  287.  Who 
styled  Crypto-Calvinists,  i.,  279. 

Calvisius,  beth,  Chronology  of,  ii.,  24. 

Cambridge,  University  of,  i.,  31,  160,  n.,  182,  183, 
229,  262,  n.,  409;  ii., 274.  The  University  Libra- 
ry, i ,  410;  n.,  268.  The  press,  i.,  264. 

Camden,  his  Greek  Grammar,  i.,  264.  His  "  Bri- 
tannia," 205.  His  life  of  Elizabeth,  ii.,  267. 

Camerarius,  his  age,  i.,  181.  His  Commentaries; 
253,  254.  A  restorer  of  ancient  learning,  261 
On  Botany,  ii.,258,  427. 


Cameron,  a  French  divine,  ii.,  43. 
Camoens,  tie  "  Lusiad"  of,  i.,  339. 
Campanella,  Thomas,  i.,  293  ;  ii.,  250.    His  "  Poli 
tics,"  132.    His  "  City  of  the  Sun,"  238.    Anal 
ysis  of  his  philosophy  in  the  "  Compendium  de 
Rerum  Natura,"  61-63. 

Campano,  his  Life  of  Bracciodi  Montone,  i.,  175,  n 
Campanus,  version  of  Euclid  by,  i.,  77. 
Campbell,  Mr.  Thomas,  remarks  of,  i..  346,  348.  n 

350. 

Campion,  English  poet,  i.,  350. 
Campistron,  ii.,  389. 
Canini,  Angelo,  i.,  246,  405.    His  "  Hellenismus," 

a  grammar,  251  ;  ii.,  273. 
Cano,  Melchior,  theological  writer,  i.,  198. 
Canter,  Theodore,  the  "  Varue  Lectiones"  of,  I , 
253. 

,  William,  his  version  of  Aristides,  i.,  248. 

His  "  Novas  Lectiones,''  s!53. 
Canns,  Melchior,  his  "  Loci  Theologici,"  i.,  287. 
Capella,  Martianus,  i.,  26. 
Capito,  German  scholar,  i ,  164. 
Cappel,  Louis,  his  "  Arcanum  punctuntionis  reve- 

latum,"  ii.,  264.     "  Critica  Sacra"  of,  ib. 
Caraccio,  his  "  Corradino,"  ii.,  383. 
Cardan,  Jerome,  algebraist,  i.,  234.    His  Rule  for 
Cubic   Emiations,  234,  391;  ii.,  244,  245.    On 
Mechanics,  i.,  397. 
Cards,  playing,  i.,  95. 
Carew,  Thomas,  merit  of  his  poetry,  ii.,  181,  372. 

,  Richard,  his  translation  of  Tasso,  i.,  350. 

Carion's  Chronicle,  by  Melanchthon,  i.,  242. 
Carlostadt,  religious  tenets  of,  i.,  255. 
Carlovingian  kings,  charters  by  the,  i.,  50. 
Caro,   Annibal,  correspondence  of,  i.,  378.     His 
translation  of  the  jEneid,  328,  333.    His  dispute 
with  Castelvetro,  384. 
Carreri,  Gemelli,  his  Travels,  ii ,  433. 
Cartesian  Philosophy,  summary  of  the,  ii.,  90-104, 
306,  329,  331.     Various  particulars,  306,  329, 331. 
See  Descartes,  and  respective  heads  in  Index. 
Cartwright,  his  "  Platform,"  i.,  266. 

,  William,  couplet  by,  ii.,  204,  n. 

lasa,  licentious  verse  of,  i.,  333.  His  "  Galatco," 
303,  328,  377. 

asaubon,  Isaac,  editions  of  the  classics  by,  i.,  260; 
ii.,  14.  A  light  of  the  literary  world,  i.,  261. 
Correspondence  with  Scaliger,  261,  268,  n. ;  ii., 
31,  n. 

,  Meric,  ii.,  16,  n.,  32,  n.,  275.    His  ac- 
count of  Oxford  University,  267. 
'asimir,  lyric  poetry  of,  ii.,  184,  n.,  185.    See  Sar- 
bievus. 

asin,  Catalogue  of  Arabic  MSS.  by,  i.,  50,  51. 
asks,  Kepler  on  the  capacity  of,  ii.,  242. 
Cassander,  George,  his  "  Consultation" on  the  Con- 
fession of  Augsburg,  i.,  277.     His  controversy 
with  Calvin,  ib.     Grotius's  Annotations,  n.,  32. 
JasMixlorns,  i.,  26,  n. 

Jastalio,  Sebastian,  i.,  282,  n. ;  ii.,  41,  48.  Beza'a 
reply  to  Bellius,  id  at  Castalio,  L,  282.  Scnptu 
ral  version  of,  290. 

?astanheda,  description  of  Asia  by,  i ,  407. 
^astell,  Edmund,  his  Lexicon  Heptaglotton,  ii.,  431. 
astellio,  his  work  on  Hydraulics,  n  ,  253. 
Castelvetro,  criticisms  of,  i.,  167,  n  ,  384.    Hi«  com- 
mentary on  Aristotle's  Poetics,  384. 
Castiglione,  Latin  poetry  of,  i ,  225,  383,  414. 
Castillejo,  Spanish  poet,  i.,  338. 
Casuistry,  ii,  119,  120. 
Casuists,  writings  of  certain,  ii.,  122.    The  English 

Casuists,  125.    The  Romish,  119. 
Caterus,  his  objections  to  De»cartes,  ii.,  94. 
Catharin,  his  works  not  orthodox,  i.,  198,  287. 
Cathay  or  China,  i.,  407. 
"  Catholicon"  of  Balbi,  in  1460,  i.,  97. 
Catholics,  their  writers,  i.,   264,  289.     English 


440 


INDEX. 


Catholics,  290.    Catholic  Bibles,  289,  290.    See 

Rome. 

Cats,  popular  Dutch  poet,  ii.,  173. 
Caudine  Forks,  the,  ii.,  150. 
Cavalieri,  mathematician  of  Bologna,  ii.,  243.    His 

geometry,  ib. 

Caxton,  first  printed  books  of,  i.,  99. 
Cecchini,  celebrated  harlequin  ii.,  189. 
Celio  Magno,  Odes  of,  i.,  329  ;  ii.,  368. 
Celso  Mino,  "de  Hereticis,"  &c  ,  i.,  283;  ii.,  48. 
Celtes,  Conrad,  i.,  122.     Dramas  of,  123,  244. 
Celticus  sermo,  described,  i.,  34,  n. 
"  Centuriae  Magdeburgenses,"  the,  i.,  278,  288. 
Centuriatores,  the,  who  termed,  i.,  288. 
Cerisantes,  Latin  poems  of,  ii.,  184. 
Cervantes,  reputation  of  his  "  Don  Quixote,"  ii.,  233. 

German  criticism  as  to  his  design,  ib.     Observa- 

tions on  the  author,  234.     Excellence  of  the  Ro- 

mance, 235.     His  minor  novels,  ib.  ;  i.,  386.   His 

tragedy  of  Numancia,  364.     Criticism  by.ii.,  169. 
Cesalpini,  his   Quaestiones    Peripatetics,  i.,  291. 

Sketch  of  his  system,  ib. 
Cesarini,  merit  of,  ii.,  185. 
Cesi,  Prince  Frederic,  founds  the  Lyncean  Society 

at  Rome,  ii.,  248,  258,  269. 
Ceva,  his  Latin  poems,  ii.,  381. 
Chalcondyles,  arrives  from  Constantinople  in  Italy, 

i.,  93. 
Chaldee,  the  language  and  Scriptures,  i.,  170  ;  ii., 

263,  265. 
Chaloner,  Sir  Thomas,  his  poem  "  De  Republica 

Instauranda,"  i.,  358,  387. 
Chamberlayne,  ii.,  375. 
Champmele',  Mademoiselle  de,  ii.,  384. 
Chancellor,  his  voyage  to  the  North  Sea,  i.,  407. 
Chapelain,  French  poet,  ii.,  225.     His  "  La  Pu- 


Chapelle  or  1'Huillier,  poet,  ii.,  371. 

Chapman,  dramas  of,  ii.,  218.    His  Homer,  i.,  350  ; 

ii.,  218. 
Charlemagne,  cathedral  and  conventional  schools 

established  by,  i.,  27,  30,  32. 
Charles  I.  of  England,  i  ,  266  ;  ii.,  28,  106,  197,217, 

229,  231. 
-  II.,  education  and  literature  in  his  reign, 

ii.,  275,  297,  327,  372.     Decline  of  poetry,  380. 

Latin  poetry,  383.    Comedy,  396. 
--  VI.,  the  Emperor,  i  ,  336. 
--  IX.  of  France,  i.,  342. 
--  le  Chauve,  i.,  35,  36,  n. 
Charleton,  Dr.,  his  translation  of  Gassendi,  ii.,  329. 
Chardin,  Voyages  de,  ii.,  433. 
Charron,  Peter,  treatise  "  des  Trois  Verites,"  &c., 

by,  i.,  289     On  Wisdom,  ii.,  56,  126. 
Charters  anciently  written  on  papyrus  and  on  parch- 

ment, i.,  50,  51. 

Chaucer,  remarks  on  his  poetry,  i  ,46,223,  345,  346. 
Chaulieu,  poems  of,  ii.,  371. 
Cheke,  Sir  John,  i.,  179.     Greek  professor  at  Cam- 

bridge, 183.     His  "  Refonnatio  Legum  Ecclesi- 

asticarum,"  259. 

Chemnitz,  the  Loci  Theologici  of,  i.,  287,  288. 
Chevalier,  Hebrew  professor,  i.,  405. 
Cnevy  Chase,  i.,  368. 
Chiabrera,  Italian  poet,  ii.,  165,  185,  367.    His  imi- 

tators, 166. 

Child,  Sir  Josiah.  on  trade,  ii.,  363. 
Chillingworth,  writings  and  doctrines  of,  ii.,  287, 

352.    "  Religion  of  Protestants"  by,  38. 
China,  missionaries  to,  i.,  407  ;  ii.,  265.     History 

of,  i.,  407.     Nieuhoff's  Account  of,  ii.,  433. 
Chinese  language  and  manuscripts,  ii.,  265. 
Chivalry,  its  effect  on  poetry,  i.,  84.    Romances  of, 

229. 

"  Christiad,  the,"  of  Vida,  i.,  224. 
Christina  of  Sweden,  ii.,  103,  369. 
Christine  of  Pisa,  a  lady  of  literary  accomplish- 


ments in  the  court  of  Charles  V.  of  France,  i~ 

68. 

Christopherson,  his  Jephthah,  i.,  229. 
Chronology,  Joseph  Scaliger's  "  de  Emendatione 

Temporum,"  i.,  270.     His    Julian    Period,  ib. 

Archbishop  Usher's,  ii.,  278.    The  Hebrew  chro- 
nology, ib.    Writers,  on,  278,  279. 
Uhrysoloras,  Emanuel,  i.,  70. 
[Jhrysostom,  editions  of,  ii.,  16. 
Dhymistry,  science  of,  ii.,  421,  422. 
Ciaconius,  Alfonsus,  i.,  268. 

or  Chacon,  Peter,  i.,  268. 

Ciampoli,  the  "  Rime"  of,  ii.,  166. 

Sibber,  his  plays,  ii.,  398. 

Uicero,  orations  of,  discovered  by  Poggio,  i.,  64. 

His  style  a  criterion  of  language,  64,  174  :  ii.,  21. 

Argument  by,  i.,  131.     Editions  of,  99,  176,  249, 

n  ,  264.    His  orations  elucidated  by  Sigonius,  267. 

His  epistles,  378  ;  ii.,  272.     Quotation  from,  161. 
'  Ciceronis  Consul,"  &c  ,  by  Bellenden,  ii.,  131. 
Did,  the,  of  Pierre  Corneille,  ii.,  193.     Critique  on, 

226,  385.     Romances  of  the,  167. 
Dimento,  Academy  del,  ii.,  420. 
3inthio,  Giraldi,  his  tragedy  of  the  "  Orbecche,"  i , 

226.     His  "  Hundred  Tales,"  388 
Circumnavigators,  account  of,  i.,  407,  408. 
~  ivil  Law  and  Civilians,  i.,  32,  n.,  33,  321,  322, 323 ; 

ii.,  141,  et  seq  ,  354,  366. 

larendon,  Earl  of,  his  "  History,"  ii.,  231. 
Clarius,  Isidore,  edition  of  the  Vulgate  by,  i.,  290, 

405. 
Classics,  first  and  celebrated  editions  of  the,  i.,  144, 

177,  179,  244,  264 ;  ii.,  275.     Variorum  editions, 

i.,  176  ;  ii ,  272.  Delphin,  61,  et  passim. 
Clauberg.  German  metaphysician,  ii.,  306. 
Claude,  French  Protestant  controversial  writer,  ii., 

281.     His  conference  with  Bossuet,  282. 
Clavius,  i.,  396.     His  Euclid,  395. 
Clement  VIII.,  i.,  279.     Character  of,  ii.,  25,  43. 

An  edition  of  Scripture  authorized  by  this  pope, 

i.,  290. 

Clement,  Jaques,  regicide,  i.,  310. 
Clenardus,  Greek  Grammar  of,  i.,  178,  251  ;  ii  ,273. 
Clerselier,  metaphysician,  ii.,  91,  253,  306. 
Cleveland,  satire  of,  ii.,  378,  380. 
Clugni,  abbot  of,  see  Peter  Cluniacensis,  i.,  51,  &c. 

Library  of  the  Abbey  of,  58. 
Clusius,  his  works  on  Natural  History  and  Botany, 

i.,  403;  ii,256. 

Cluverius,  his  Germania  Antiqna,  ii.,  23. 
Coccejus,  Summa  Doctrinse  of,  ii.,  54. 
Codex  Chartaceus,  Cottonian  MSS.  (Galba,  B.  1.), 

contents,  and  materials  written  on,  i.,  52. 
Coeffeteau,  translation  of  Florus  by,  ii.,  223. 
Coiter,  Pathological  Anatomy  by,  i.,  404. 
Coleridge,  Mr.,  his  praise  of  Beaumont  and  Fletch- 
er, ii.,  199,  n      His  philosophical  view  of  the 

plays  of  Shakspeare,  205.     Remarks  by,  i.,  376; 

ii.,  262,  n.,  376.     His  "  Remains,"  374,  n. 
Colet,  Dean,  founds  St.  Paul's  school,  i.,  263. 
Colinaeus,  his  press  at  Paris,  i.,  179,  189. 
Collalto,  Count  of,  i.,  331. 
Collier's  History  of  Dramatic  Poetry,  and  Annals 

of  the  Stage,  i.,  146,  n.,  228,  367,  368,  n. ;  ii.,  190. 
Colocci,  Angelo,  Latin  poet,  i ,  242. 
Colomies,  the  "  Colomesiaria,"  i ,  284,  n. 
Colonna,  Vittoria,  Marchioness  of  Pescara,  beauty 

of  her  canzones,  i.,  195,  217,  332. 
Coluccio  Salutato,  literary  merits  of,  i.,  64. 
Columbus,   Christopher,  epistle  of,  i.,  148.     HU 

discovery  of  America,  172. 
,  Rualdus,  "de  Re  Anatomica,"  i.,  404  ; 

ii.,  260,  261. 
Columna  or  Colonna,  his  botanical  works,  ii.,  258. 

His  etchings  of  plants,  258,  425. 
Comedy,  ii.,  397.     Italian,  i.,  225,  359.     Extempo 
raneous,  ii.,  189.     Of  intrigue,  212.     Spanish,  i. 


INDEX. 


441 


362.,  &c.     See  also  names  in  Index  of  English 
and  French  dramatists. 

Comenius,  his  system  of  acquiring  Latin,  ii.,  13. 
Its  chrestomatic  intention,  ib. 

Comes,  Natalis,  Mythologia  by,  i.,  269. 

Comets,  theory  respecting,  ii.,  247. 

Comines,  Philip  de,  i.,  409. 

Commandin's  Euclid,  i.,  395. 

Commerce  and  Trade,  Works  on,  ii.,  135,  363. 

Commonwealths,  origin  of,  i.,  313;  ii.,  137,  138. 

Condillac,  works  of,  ii.,  110,  n.,  159. 

Confession,  auricular,  its  importance  to  a  Church, 
ii.,  1 19, 120.  The  Confessor's  directory  office,  120. 

Congreve,  William,  his  comedies,  ii.,  397.  Old 
Bachelor,  ib.  Way  of  the  World,  ib.  Love  for 
Love,  398.  His  "  Mourning  Bride,"  396. 

Conic  sections,  on,  ii.,  242.  Problem  of  the  cycloid, 
243. 

Connan,  civilian,  i.,  322. 

Conrad  of  Wurtzburg,  i.,  42. 

Conringius,  Herman,  ii.,  131,  141. 

Constance,  council  of,  i.,  285,  319. 

Constantin,  Robert,  reputation  of  his  Lexicon,  i., 
250,  263. 

Constantinople,  revolution  in  language  on  its  cap- 
ture by  Mohammed  II.,  i.,  69. 

Constitutions  of  European  states,  printed  by  the 
Elzevirs,  ii.,  131. 

Contareni,  his  piety,  i.,  276. 

Conti,  Guisto  di,  Italian  poet,  i ,  100. 

,  Nicolo  di,  his  Travels  in  the  East,  i.,  92. 

Contracts,  on,  ii.,  136,  148. 

Contrat  Social,  of  J  J.  Rousseau,  ii.,  162. 

Convents,  expulsion  of  nuns  from  their,  i.,  187. 

Cooke,  Sir  Antony,  i.,  265. 

Copernicus,  astronomical  system  of,  i.,  236, 293, 395. 
The  six  books  of,  237,  n. ;  ii.,  239.  His  system 
adopted  by  Galileo,  i.,  396  ;  ii.,  248.  Its  progress, 
62,  82,  249. 

Coppetta,  Francesco,  canzone  of,  i.,  329,  333,  n. 

Coptic,  this  language  indebted  to  the  researches  of 
Athanasius  Kircher,  ii.,  265. 

Cordova,  Granada,  and  Malaga,  collegiate  institu- 
tions of,  i.,  32. 

Cordus  Euricius,  his  "  Botanilogicon,"  i ,  239. 

Corneille,  Pierre,  dramas  of:  his  Melite,  ii.,  193. 
The  Cid,  193, 226, 385.  His  Clitandre,  La  Veuve, 
and  Medee,  193.  Les  Horaces,  194.  Cinna,  ib. 
His  tragedy  of  Polyeucte,  195.  Rodogune,  195, 
387.  Pompee,  195.  Heraclius,  ib.  Nicomede, 
196.  His  comedy  of  Le  Menteur,  ib.  Style  of, 
194.  Faults  and  beauties  of,  196.  His  tragedies 
unequal  in  merit,  383.  Comparison  of  Racine 
with,  387.  His  party,  402,  n. 

,  Thomas,  dramatic  works  of,  ii.,  388. 

Cornelius  a  Lapide,  ii.,  53. 

Corniani,  critical  remarks  of,  i.,  100,  167,  332,  n., 
361,  377  ;  ii.,  368. 

Correggio  and  Tasso,  their  respective  talents  com- 
pared, i.,  336. 

Correspondence,  Literary,  i.,  377,  412. 

Cortesius,  Paulus,  his  "  Dialogue  de  hominibus 
doctis,"  i.,  64,  n.,  108.  His  commentary  on  the 
scholastic  philosophy,  245. 

Corycius,  a  patron  of  learning,  i.,  243. 

Cossali,  history  of  Algebra  by,  i.,  234,  n  ,  235,  236, 
n ,  394,  n. 

Costanzo,  Angelo  di,  i.,  328,  333. 

Costar,  Lawrence,  printer  of  Haarlem,  i.,  95. 

Cota,  Rodrigo,  dramatic  author,  i.,  146. 

Cotelier,  his  Greek  erudition,  ii.,  274. 

Cotta,  i  ,  383. 

Councils  of  the  Church  of  Rome,  i.,  164,  196,  187, 
276,  285,  289  ;  ii.,  27,  36. 

Courcelles,  Arminian  divine,  i.,  386 ;  ii.,  286,  288. 

Cousin,  M.,  remarks  of,  ii.,  306,  n.     His  works  of 
Descartes,  101,  n.,  104. 
VOL.  II.— 3  K 


Covarruvias,  Spanish  lawyer,  i .,  324,  326,  327. 

Covenants  to  be  fulfilled,  ii ,  136,  140. 

Cowley,  poems  of,  ii.,  176.    His  Pindaric  odes,  177. 

His  Latin  style,  ib.    Johnson's  character  of,  ib. 

His  "  Epitaphium  Vivi  Auctoris,"  383.    His  prose 

works,  410. 

Cox,  Leonard,  his  "  Art  of  Rhetoric,"  i.,  233,  387. 
Crakanthorp,  logical  works  of,  ii.,  61. 
Cranmer,  Archbishop,  ii ,  46,  47. 
Crashaw,  style  of  his  poetry  described,  ii.,  176. 
Creed,  the  Apostles',  ii.,  49.    The  Athanasian,  ib. 
Crellius,  "de  Satisfactione  Chnsti,"  ii.,  44.    His 

"  Vindicia3,"  48. 

Cremonini,  Caesar,  i.,  291,  292  ;  ii.,  61. 
Cresci,  i.,  384. 
Crescimbeni,  poet  and  critic,  i ,  216,  330,  385  ;  U., 

166,  369.    History  of  National  Poetry,  by,  399. 
"  Critiri  Sacri,"  i ,  287,  405  ;  ii.,  297. 
Criticism,  literary,  names  eminent  in,  i.,  247.    Gru- 

ter's  Thesaurus  Criticus,  ib.      Lambinus,  248. 

Cruquius,  ib.     Henry  Stephens,  ib.,  et  passim. 

French  treatises  of,  386.    Italian,  232,  330,  382. 

Spanish  critics,  386.     Early  English  critics,  387. 
Croix  du  Maine,  La,  i.,  387,  412. 
Croke,  Richard,  orations  of,  i.,  160,  n.,  182. 
Croll,  of  Hesse,  on  Magnetism,  ii.,  263,  n. 
Cromwell,  state  of  learning  in  the  Protector's  time, 

ii.,  275,  357,  373.     State  of  religion,  288. 
Cruquius  or  de  Crusques,  Scholiast  of  Horace,  i., 

249. 

Crusades,  and  commerce  with  Constantinople,  in- 
fluential on  the  classical  literature  of  Western 

Europe,  i.,  68. 
Crusca,  della,  the  Vocabolaria,  i.,  386 ;  ii.,  221.    The 

Academy  of,  i.,  385,  411  ;  ii.,  269. 
Crusius,  teacher  of  Romaic,  i.,  255. 
Cudworth,  his  doctrine,  ii.,  287,  288,  316,  n.  His 

"Intellectual  System,"  79,  300,  301,  336.     On 

"Free-will,"  323.     "Immutable  Morality,"  by, 

336. 

Cueva,  Juan  de  la,  "  Art  of  Poetry"  of,  i.,  386. 
Cujacius,  his  works  on  Jurisprudence,  i.,  321,  322. 
Cumberland,  Dr.  Richard,  "de  legibus  Naturae," ii., 

338-343.     Remarks  on  his  theory,  343,  344,  347. 

,  Mr.,  criticisms  of,  ii.,  206. 

Cunseus,  on  the  antiquities  of  Judaism,  ii ,  264. 

Curcella?us,  letters  of,  ii.,  44. 

Curves,  the  measurement  of,  ii.,  242. 

Cusanus,  Cardinal  Nicholas,  mathematician,  i.,  98. 

Cuvier,  Baron,  his  character  of  Agricola,  a  German 

metallurgist,  i.,  240.    His  opinion  of  Conrad  Ges- 

ner's  works,  399.    Also  of  Aldrovandus,  401.    Se* 

his  remarks,  ii.,  257. 
Cycles,  solar  and  lunar,  &c.,  i.,  270. 

DACH,  German  devotional  songs  of,  ii.,  173. 
Dacier,  the  Horace  of,  ii.,  274.    His  Aristotle,  i., 

384  ;  ii.,  274. 
,  Madame,  her  translations  of  Homer  and 

Sappho,  ii.,  274. 

Daill6  on  the  right  use  of  the  Fathers,  n.,  37,  53. 
Dale,  Van,  Dutch  physician,  ii.,  401. 
Dalechamps,  Hist  Gen.  Plantarum  by,  i.,  40 
Dalgarno,  George,  his  "Ars  signorum,  Character 

universalis,"  &c.,  ii.,  327. 
Dalton,  atomic  theory  of,  ii.,  80. 
Dancourt,  his  Chevalier  a  la  Mode,  n.,  393. 
Danes,  Greek  professor  in  the  University  of  Pans, 

i.,  180. 
Daniel,  his  "  Panegyric"  addressed  to  James  I.,  n., 

175.     His  "Civil  Wars  of  York  and  Lancaster, 

a  poem,  177.    "  History  of  England"  by,  230. 
,  Samuel,  his  "  Complaint  of  Rosamond,    i , 

Dante,  Alighieri,  life  of,  by  Aretin,  L,  100.  Com- 
mentary  on,  by  Landino,  ib.  His  Divma  Come- 
dia,  44, 73  ;  ii.,  374, 375  His  Purgatory  and  Para 


442 


INDEX. 


dise,  375.  Comparison  with  Homer,  i.,  385.  Com- 
parison of  Milion  with,  ii.,  375.  The  Ugolino  of, 
i.,  364. 

Dati,  the  "  Prose  Fiorentine"  of,  ii.,  399. 

Davanzati's  Tacitus,  i.,  378. 

Daveriant,  Dr.  Charles,  ii.,  365.  His  "  Essay  on 
Ways  and  Means,"  ib. 

,  Sir  William,  his  "  Gondibert,"  ii.,  178, 

378. 

Davies,  Sir  John,  his  poem  "On  the  Immortality 
of  the  Soul,"  i ,  349  ;  ii.,  175. 

Davila,  History  of  the  Civil  War  in  France  by,  ii., 
267. 

Davison's  Poetical  Rhapsody,  a  collection,  i.,  3-17. 

Decembrio,  philologist,  i.,  75. 

Dedekiud,  his  poem  on  Germany,  i.,  303. 

Definitions  of  words,  on,  ii.,  99. 

Degerando,  remarks  of,  ii.,  305.  "  Histoire  des  Sys- 
temes"  hy,  i.,  296,  n. 

Dekker,  drainalic  poet,  ii.,  218. 

Delfino,  dramatic  works  of,  ii.,  38.3. 

Delicia;  Poetarum  Gallorurn,  ii.,  356. 

Belgarum,  i.,  356,  357. 

Italorurn,  i.,  356. 

Scotorurn,  i.,  358. 

Delphin  editions  of  the  Latin  classics,  ii.,  273. 

De  Marca,  controvertist,  ii.,  29. 

Demetrius  Cretensis,  i.,  171. 

Democntus,  corpuscular  theory  of,  ii.,  64. 

Denham,  Sir  John,  his  "  Cooper's  Hill,"  ii.,  175. 

Denmark,  Scandinavian  legends  and  ballads  of,  ii., 
174. 

Descartes,  philosophical  and  scientific  deductions, 
&c.,  of,  i.,  31,  n.,  172,  236  ;  ii.,  243,  244,  219,  250, 
255,  256,  301,  307,  318,  333.  Summary  of  his 
Metaphysical  Philosophy,  &c.,  90-104.  His  al- 
gebraic improvements,  i.,  304  ;  ii ,  245.  Applies 
algebra  to  curves,  245.  Indebted  to  Harriott,  ib, 
His  algebraic  geometry,  246.  His  theory  of  the 
world,  250  His  mechanics,  252.  Law  of  mo- 
tion by,  253.  On  compound  forces,  ib.  On  the 
lever,  ib.,  n.  His  dioptrics,  253,  255.  On  the 
curves  of  lenses,  256.  On  the  rainbow,  ib.  His 
"  Meditations,"  303,  305.  His  Correspondence, 
305  Accused  of  plagiarism,  i.,  298  ;  ii.,  103,246, 
n.  Process  of  the  Cartesian  philosophy,  306, 329. 

Deshoulieres.  Madame,  poems  of,  ii.,  372. 

Desnuirests,  his  "  Clovis,"  ii.,  372. 

Despencer,  Hugh  le,  letter  of,  1315  to,  i.,  51. 

Desport.es,  Philippe,  i.,  343. 

Deventer,  classics  printed  at,  i.,  131.  College  of, 
108. 

Dibdin's  Classics,  i  ,  245. 

Dictionaries,  early  Latin,  i ,  62, 179.  Lexicon  Pen- 
taglottum,  ii.,  263.  Lexicon  Heptaglotton,  431. 
Arabic  lexicon,  265.  Hebrew  lexicon,  i..  241,  et 
passim.  Vocabolario  della  Crusca,  386;  ii.,  221. 
Lower  Greek,  16. 

Dictionnaire  de  1' Academic,  ii.,  402.  Its  revision, 
ib. 

Dieu,  Louis  de,  on  the  Old  Testament,  ii.,  263, 265. 

Dieze,  German  critic,  i.,  339;  ii.,  168. 

Digby,  Sir  Kenelm,  ii.,  209,  428. 

Diogenes  Laertius,  i.,  179  ;  ii.,  69,  300. 

Dionysius  of  Halicarnassus,  i.,  179.  Edition  by 
Sylbnrgius  of,  254. 

DiophanUis,  his  method  in  algehra  for  indefinite 
quantities,  i.,  236. 

Dioptrics,  science  of,  ii.,  253,  254. 

Disputation,  scholastic  and  theological,  i.,  286  287, 
291. 

Divine  right  of  kings,  ii.,  132. 

Dodoens  or  Dodonaeus,  botanical  work  of,  i.,  402. 

Dodsley's  Old  Plays,  i.,  228. 

Dolce  Lodovico,  i.,  232,  359. 

Dolet,  Ktienne,  i.,  233,  383. 

Domat,  "  Loix  Civiles"  of,  ii.,  366. 


Domenichino,  his  style  of  painting,  !.,  336. 

Dominican  order  opposed  to  the  Franciscan  friars, 
i ,  197.  See  also  279,  299  ;  ii.,  43. 

Donati,  Jesuit,  his  Roman  vetus  et  nova,  ii.,  23. 

Donatus,  grammar  of,  printed  in  wooden  stereotype, 
i.,  56,  95,  97. 

Doni,  his  "  Libreria,"  a  bibliographical  history,  i., 
413. 

Donne,  Dr.,  his  satires,  i.,  349.  Founder  of  the  po- 
etry styled  metaphysical,  ii.,  176.  His  verse  in- 
harmonious, ib.  Sermons  of,  55. 

Dorat,  French  poet,  i.,  240. 

Dorpius,  letter  of,  i ,  161. 

Dorset,  Duke  of,  poetry  of,  ii.,  378. 

Dort,  Synod  of,  11,42/287. 

Douglas,  Gawin,  his  ^Eneid,  i.,  154.  His  poems, 
222. 

Dousa,  his  poems,  i.,  357. 

Drake,  Sir  Francis,  i.,  407. 

Drama,  the  regular,  when  revived,  i ,  146.  Ancient 
Greek,  ii.,  374,  377.  Of  Portugal,  i ,  146.  Of 
Spain,  ib.  Translations  from  the  Spanish  thea- 
tre, ii.,  189.  Lope  de  Vega  and  Cakleron,  ib. 
The  Autos  Sacramentales,  ib.  On  the  Italian 
and  Spanish  drama,  i.,  359  ;  ii.,  188.  The  Pas- 
toral, i.,  359;  ii.,  188,  206.  The  French  stage, 
192.  The  stage  popular  in  the  reign  of  Eliza- 
beth, 197.  Mysteries  and  Moralities,  i.,  227,228, 
et  seq.  Various  dramas  described,  168  ;  ii ,  383. 
Italian  opera,  i.,  360.  The  Melodrame,  161.  Lat- 
in plays,  229.  First  English  comedy,  ib.  Shaks- 
peare,  ii.,  197-20i.  Ben  Jon  son,  205, 206.  Beau- 
mont and  Fletcher,  206-214.  Other  dramatic 
works,  with  observations,  passim. 

Drayton,  Michael,  his  "  Barons'  Wars,"  i.,  349. 
His  "  Polyolbion,"  ii.,  177. 

Dreams,  phenomena  of,  and  the  phantasms  of  meu 
awake,  ii.,  105. 

Drebbel,  Cornelius,  his  microscope,  ii.,  255. 

Drummond,  his  poems,  ii.,  178.     His  sonnets,  180. 

Drusius,  Biblical  criticism  of,  i.,  405. 

Dryden,  John,  ii.,  371.  His  early  poems,  377.  An- 
nus  Mirabilis,  378.  Absalom  and  Aciiitophel,  ib. 
His  genius  and  wit  relieves  his  satire,  ib.  Mac 
Flecknoe,  ib.  Hind  and  Panther,  379.  Fables, 
ib.  Odes,  380.  Translation  of  Virgil,  ib.  His 
dramas,  377.  His  prose  works  and  style,  410. 
His  remarks  on  Shakspeare,  204,  n.  "  Essay  on 
Dramatic  Poetry,"  206,  n.,  213,  n.,  214,  n.  Criti- 
cisms by,  302.  His  heroic  tragedies,  394.  Don 
Sebastian,  395.  Spanish  friar,  ib. 

Duaren,  interpreter  of  civil  law,  i.,  322. 

Du  Bartas,  poetry  of,  i.,  343  ;  ii.,  371. 

Dublin,  Trinity  College,  ii.,  268. 

Du  Bois  or  Sylvius,  grammarian,  i.,  233. 

Duca3us,  Fronts  or  Le  Due,  his  St.  Chrysostom,ii., 
16. 

Du  Cange,  preface  to  his  Glossary,  i.,  34. 

Du  Chesne,  "  Histoire  du  Baianisme"  by,  i.,  279,  n. 

Dunbar,  William,  "  The  Thistle  and  Rose"  of,  i., 
147.  His  allegorical  poem,  "  The  Golden  Targe," 
147,  222. 

Dunciad,  the,  ii.,  370. 

Dunton's  "  Life  and  Errors,"  &c.,  ii.,  419,  n. 

Duns  Scotus,  i.,  262. 

Du  Petit  Thouars,  remarks  of,  i.,  403. 

Dupin,  M  ,  opinions  of,  i ,  284,  287 ;  ii.,  43,  n.  His 
panegyric  on  Richer,  28.  His  "  Ancient  Disci- 
pline of  the  Galilean  Church,"  280.  "  Ecclesias- 
tical Library,"  ib. 

Du  Plessis  Mornay,  i.,  283  ;  ii.,  28. 

Duport,  James,  translations  of  Scripture  by,  ii.,  274. 

Duran,  his  Romancero,  or  Spanish  romance  bal- 
lads, i.,  341,  n. ;  ii.,  J67,  n. 

Duras,  Mademoiselle  de,  ii.,  282. 

Durer,  Albert,  i.,  397. 

Duryer,  his  tragedy  of  Scevole,  ii.,  196. 


INDEX. 


Dutens,  his  "  Origine  des  decouvertes  attribu6es 

aux  Modernes,"  li ,  262. 

Du  Vair,  style  of  his  works,  i.,  379 ;  ii.,  223,  227. 
Duval,  Aristotle  of,  ii ,  16. 
Duverney,  his  Treatise  on  Hearing,  ii.,  430. 
Dyce,  Mr,  remarks  of,  i.,  371,  n. 
Dyer,  Edward,  i.,  387. 

EARLE,  John,  the  "  Microcosmographia"  of,  ii , 
232. 

Earth,  rotation  of  the,  i.,  399.  Theory  of  its  revo- 
lution round  the  sun,  ii.,  248.  Burnet's  Theory 
of  the,  428. 

Eastern  languages,  study  of,  i.,  145;  ii.,  263,  264, 
265.  ' 

Eckius,  his  doctrines,  i ,  285. 

Economists,  Political,  ii.,  363,  ft  seq. 

Education,  Milton's  Tractate  on,  ii ,  349.  Locke 
on,ib.  Public  and  private,  351.  Ancient  philos- 
ophers on,  349.  Fenelon  on  female,  352. 

Edward  II.,  i.,  307,  349,  369. 

1H.,  embassy  Irom,  to  the  Count  of  Hol- 
land, i  ,  51. 

VI ,  state  of  learning  in  his  time,  i.,  261, 

307,  379.     Stage  plays.  &c  ,  suppressed  by  his 
council,  223.     Anabaptists  burned,  281. 

Edwards,  Richaid,  poet,  i ,  345.  His  "  Amantium 
Iras,"  ib.,  n.  "  Damon  and  Pythias,"  368. 

Eichhorn's  "  Geschichte  der  Cultur,"  &c.,  i.,  132, 
159,  n.,  288  ;  ii.,  263,  n. 

Elias  Levita,  ii.,  264. 

Elizabeth,  state  of  learning  during  her  reign,  i.,  261. 
Inferior  to  its  state  in  Spam,  264.  Her  own  learn- 
ing considerable,  265.  Philosophical  works  in 
her  time,  266,  304.  Works  of  fiction,  ii.,  238. 
Poets,  i.,  346,  347,  351.  The  stage  popular,  ii., 
197.  Court  of,  described,  i.,  380.  Punishment 
of  the  Anabaptists,  281.  English  divines  in  her 
reign,  284  Bull  of  Pius  V.  against  the  queen, 
286.  See  also  3 11,  347,  407. 

— ,  Princess  Palatine,  ii.,  102. 


443 


Ellis's  "  Specimens  of  Early  English  Poets,"  i.,  347, 
n. ;  ii.,  181,  182. 

,  Sir  Henry,  on  the  introduction  of  writing  on 

paper,  in  the  records,  i ,  52. 

Elyot,  Sir  Thomas,  his  work  on  government,  i., 
182,210,232. 

Elzevir  Republics,  the,  ii.,  131. 

Emmius,  Ubbo,  his  Vetus  GriEcia  illustrata,  ii.,  23. 

Empiricus,  Sextus,  i.,  302  ;  ii,  127. 

England,  ihe  Knglish  language  of  Anglo  Saxon  or- 
igin, i ,  44.  Old  style  of,  170.  Improvement  of, 
ii.,  228,  374.  Native  authors  not  addicted  to  the 
use  of  Latin,  i.,  265.  State  of  learning,  145, 304, 
et  passim.  Restrictions  on  the  press  unfavoura- 
ble to  literature,  413.  Our  historians,  172;  ii., 
2C7,  &c.  Poets,  i.,  344  ;  ii.,  174,  372,  &c.  Dra- 
matic  authors,  197,  &c.,  395.  Moralities  and  sim- 
ilar plays,  i.,  228.  Works  of  fiction  or  novels, 
169  ;  ii ,  228.  "  Muss  Anglicans"  of  Latin  wri- 
ters, 383.  Criticism  and  philology,  274,  276,  el 
passim.  Political  writers,  357-363.  Theologians 
and  sermons,  i.,  284  ;  ii.,  55,  284,  287,  296.  Hom- 
ily of  the  Church  against  rebellion,  i.,  308.  Wic- 
liff'e  and  the  Reformers,  193,  et  passim.  Writers 
against  the  Church  of  Rome,  ii.,  283.  Breach 
with  Rome,  i  ,286.  See  Reformation.  The  An- 
glican Church,  ii.,  40.  High-Church  party,  37. 
The  Lambeth  Articles,  42. 

"  England's  Helicon,"  contributors  to,  enumerated, 
i.,  347. 

English  Constitution,  the,  ii.,  361. 

Revolution  of  1688,  ii.,  362,  363,  380. 

Ennius,  annals  of,  i.,  131. 

Entomology,  writers  on,  ii.,  256. 

Enzina,  Juan  de  la,  i.,  147. 

Eobanus  Hessus,  i ,  182,  225. 


Epicedia  or  funeral  lamentations,  ii.,  18C. 

Epicurus,  ii.,  68,  300. 

Episcopius,  Simon,  ii.,  42.  A  writer  for  the  Re- 
mohstrants,  286,  287.  His  Theological  lastitu- 
tions,  42,  287.  His  Life  by  Limborch,  43,  n. 

Epithalmia  or  nuptial  songs,  ii.,  186 

Erasmus,  his  criticisms  on  Petrarch,  i.,  62  Visits 
England,  134.  Greek  professor  at  Cambridge, 
145  His  Adages,  145,  155,  156,  J57.  Jealousy 
of  Budaeus  and,  155,  156,  n.  His  Greek  Testa- 
ment, 159,  161.  The  Colloquies  of,  189.  His 
Encomium  Moris,  160,  et  seq.  The  "  Ciceroni- 
anus"  of,  175, 179.  On  Greek  pronunciation,  183. 
Was  a  precursor  of  the  great  Reformers,  164, 188. 
His  "  Colloquies,"  189,  209.  His  '1^9uo^nyia. 

189.  His  difference  with  Luther,  Kio,  n.,  189. 
His  letters,  189,  n.    His  controversy  with  Luther, 

190.  His  "  de  libero  arbitrio,"  ib.',  n.     His  epis- 
tles characterized,  191.     His  alienation  from  the 
Reformers,  ib     His  death,  ib.    His  paraphrase, 
a  superior  Scriptural   interpretation,  198.    His 
"  Enchiridion"  and  ethical  writings,  209. 

Erastus  and  Erastianism,  ii.,  45. 

Ercilla,  the  "  Araucana"  of,  i.,  338. 

"  Krcolano"  of  Varchi,  i.,  385. 

Erizzo,  Sebastian,  Venetian,  i.,  269,  410. 

Erpenius,  Arabic  grammar  by,  ii.,  'JJJ5. 

Erythraus  or  Rossi,  his  "  Pinacotheca  virorum  il- 

lustrium,"  ii.,  185. 
Escobar,  Less,  and  Busenbaum,  their  casuistical 

writings,  ii.,  122. 
Espinel,  the  "  Marcos  de  Obregon  '  '<f,  ii    168,  231 

,  Vincente,  La  Casa  de  1?  tow^oria  by  i 

339,  n. 

Esquillace,  Borja  of,  ii.,  168. 
Kssex,  Earl  of,  "  Apology"  for  the  ii.,  ?99. 
Kste,  house  of,  patrons  of  learning,  i.,  130,  i08, 36 

402. 
Etherege,  Sir  George,  i.,  263.     St>!e  of  his  com» 

dies,  ii.,  397. 

Ethics,  on,  ii.,  77,  335,  338.    See  Philosophy. 
Euclid,  first  translations  of,  i.,  77, 234.   Theorem  o. 

ii.,  242.     Editions  of,  i.,  395. 

Euphues,  the  Anatomy  of  Wit,"  &c.,  i.,  380. 

Kuridice,"  a  tragedy  for  music  [opera],  i.,  361. 
Euripides,  i ,  366. 367,  n  ;  ii ,  374, 3*6, 388.  Frenc. 

translations  of,  i.,  227. 
[Mistachiiis,  Italian  anatomist,  i.,  404. 
Eustathius  of  Thessalonica,  his   use  of  Romai  • 

words,  i.,  69,  n. 

Eutychius,  "  Annals  of,"  by  Pococke,  ii.,  432. 
Evelyn's  works,  ii ,  410. 
Evremond,  M.  de  St.,  poetry  of,  ii.,  401. 
Exchange  and  currency,  ii.,  135. 
Kxperience,  on,  ii.,  106. 

FABER  or  Fabre,  Antony,  celebrated  lawyer  of  Sa- 
voy, i.,  323. 

,  Basilius,  merit  of  his  Thesaurus,  i.,  254. 

,  Stapulensis,  a  learned  Frenchman,  i.,  151, 

188. 
,  Tanaquil  or  Tanneguy  le  Fevre,  ii.,  274. 

His  daughter,  Anne  le  Fevre,  ib. 
Fahre,  Peter,  his  "  Agonisticon,  sive  de  re  athleti 

ca,"  i.,  268.     "  Art  de  Rhetorique"  of,  233. 
Fabretti.on  Roman  Antiquities  and  Inscriptions,  ii., 

277. 
Fabricius,  George,  i.,  255;  ii.,  273.    His  "  Biblio- 

theca  Grseca,"  277. 

-,  John,  astronomical  observations  by,  n.. 


243. 
,  de  Aquapendente,  on  the  language  of 

brute  animals,  ii.,  257.    His  medical  discoveries, 

259. 

Fabroni,  "  Vita;  Italorum"  of,  ii.,  243,  277. 
Fairfax,  his  "  Jerusalem,"  imitated  from  Tasso,  L, 

350. 


444 


INDEX. 


Falconieri,  his  Inscriptiones  Athleticae,  ii.,  277. 
Falkland,  Lord,  ii.,  38. 
Fallopius,  anatomist,  i.,  403. 
Fanaticism,  its  growth  among  some  of  the  Reform- 
ers, i.,  187. 

Fariuacci  or  Farinaceus,  jurist,  ii.,  141. 
Farmer's  Essay  on  the  Learning  of  Shakspeare,  i., 

374,  n. 

Farnaby,  Thomas,  grammarian,  ii.,  18. 
Farquhar's  comedies,  ii.,  398. 
Fathers,  the,  religious  respect  for  their  works,  ii., 

29,  30,  31,  35,  37,  50.     Doctrine  of  some  of  the, 

95. 

Fayette,  La,  Countess  of,  novels  by,  ii.,  414. 
Feltham's  Resolves,  ii.,  128. 
Fenelon,  archbishop  of  Cambrai,  his  "  Maximes  des 

Saints,"  ii.,  289.      On  female  education,  352. 

"  Dialogues  of  the  Dead"  by,  400.     Merit  of  his 

Telemaque,  416. 
Format,  his  discoveries  in  algebra  and  geometry,  ii., 

243,  246,  255. 
Feme! .  a  degree  of  the  meridian,  how  measured  by, 

i.,  234.     Eminent  French  physician,  238. 
Ferrara,  Hercules  I.,  Marquis  of,  i.,  130. 

,  Spanish  Bible  printed  at,  i.,  290. 

Ferrari,  mathematician,  i.,  234,  236. 

,  his  Lexicon  Geographicum,  ii..  266.    His 

Syriac  Lexicon,  265. 
Ferrarius,  Octavius,  ii.,  23,  277. 
Ferreira,  Portuguese  poet,  i.,  340. 
Ferreo,  Scipio,  i.,  234. 
Ficinus,  Marsilius,  i.,  94,  117.    Translator  of  Plo- 

tinus,  129. 
Fiction,  on  works  of,  i.,  229,  388  ;  ii.,  233.    English 

novels,  i.,  391 ;  ii.,  238.     Spanish  romance,  i., 

340  ;  ii.,  233.     Italian,  i.,  100,  388  ;  ii.,  217. 
Field  on  the  Church,  ii. ,  54. 
Filelfo,  philologist,  i.,  70. 
Filicaja,  Vicenzo,  his  "  Siege  of  Vienna,"  ii.,  367. 

His  "  Italia  mia,"  a  sonnet,  ib. 
Filmer,  Sir  Robert,  his  "  Patriarcha,"  ii.,  139,  358. 
Finee,  Oronce,  i.,  234. 
Fioravanti  of  Bologna,  i.,  98. 
Fiore  or  Floridus,  algebraist,  i.,  234. 
Fioretti  or  Udeno  Nisielo,  ii.,  222,  269. 
Firenzuola,  satirical  poet,  i.,  333.    His  prose  en- 
chanting, 377. 

Fischart,  German  poet,  i.,  344. 
Fisher,  the  Jesuit,  Laud's  conference  with,  ii.,  30. 
Fisheries,  rights  to,  ii.,  146. 
Fishes,  on,  i.,  400,  401  ;  ii.,  423. 
Flacius    Illyricus,  "  Centuriae    Magdeburgenses," 

chiefly  by,  i.,  278,  288. 
Flaminio,  Italian  poet,  i.,  195.    Latin  elegies  of 

Flaminius,  225. 
Flaviq,  Biondo,  i.,  104. 
Fle'chier,  bishop  of  Nisrnes,  ii., 237, 294.     Harmony 

of  his  diction,  294,  296. 
Fleming,  his  lyric  poetry,  ii.,  173. 
Fletcher,  Phineas,  "  The  Purple  Island"  by,  ii., 

174. 

,  Giles,  his  poems,  ii.,  174. 

's  "  Faithful  Sheperdess,"  ii.,  183, 206, 211. 

See  Beaumont  and  Fletcher. 

,  Andrew,  style  of,  ii., 

Fleury,  Claude,  "  Ecclesiastical  History"  by,  ii., 

281.    His  dissertations,  ib. 

Florence,  Platonic  and  other  academies  of,  i.,  117, 
128.    Controversy  that  the  Lingua  Toscana  is 

properly  the   Florentine,  232,  243,  333,  385  ;  ii., 

221.     Men  of  letters  of,  passim.     The  Apatisti, 
&c.,  of,  269.    The  Laurentian  Library,  i.,  244. 
Poets  of,  ii.,  367.     Academy  del  Cimento,  420. 
The  villa  of  Fiesole,  i.,  107. 
Fiudd,  Robert,  his  Mosaic  Philosophy,  ii.,  65. 
Folengo,  Macaronic  verse  of,  i.,  333,  n. 
Fontaine,  La,  fables  of,  ii.,  369,  370,  n. 


Fontenelle,  poetry  of,  ii ,  372.  Criticisms  by,  i., 
365,  366  ;  ii.,  383,  386,  :i«8,  405,  423.  Character 
of  his  works,  399.  His  mi  logics  of  academicians, 
400.  His  "  Dialogues  of  the  Dead,"  ib.  His 
"  Plurality  of  Worlds."  ib.  "  History  of  Ora- 
cles," 401.  On  pastoral  poetry,  406. 

Ford,  John,  critique  by  Mr.  Gi£%d  on  his  trage- 
dies, ii.,  216. 

Forge,  La,  of  Saumur,  ii.,  306. 

Fortesque,  Sir  John,  i.,  170. 

Fortunatus,  i.,  38. 

Fortunio,  on  Italian  grammar,  i.,  232. 

Fosse,  La,  his  "  Manlius,"  ii.,  389. 

Fouquelin,  his  "  Rhetorique  Franchise,"  i ,  386. 

Fourier,  M  ,  on  algebra,  i.,  394. 

Fowler,  his  writings  on  Christian  Morality,  ii.,  288. 

Fracastorms,  i.,  224,  383. 

France,  poets  in  the  reign  of  Francis  I.,  i ,  220.  Of 
Louis  XIV.,  ii.,  170,  369.  Latin  poets,  i.,  356, 
357;  ii.,  184,381.  Prose  writers,  passim.  His- 
torians, 267,  el  passim.  Grammarians,  i.,  233, 
&c.  French  language,  ii.,  226,  &c.  Academie 
Frangaise,  228,  399.  State  of  learning,  i.,  180, 
246,  341  ;  ii.,  381,  &c.  Royal  Library,  i..  410. 
French  drama,  366 ;  ii ,  192-197, 383-393.  French 
opera,  393.  Mysteries  and  moralities,  i.,  227. 
Romance  writers,  39  ;  ii.,  235.  Novelists,  i.,  388. 
French  sermons,  ii.,  279,  294,  295,  296,  et  passim. 
The  Gallican  Church,  29,  279,  285.  Protestants 
or  Huguenots,  i.,  276,  283,  299,  309  ;  ii  ,  31,  293. 
Edict  of  Nantes,  i.,283.  Its  revocation  by  Louis 
XIV.,  ii.,  285,  293.  "Avis  aux  Refugies,"  the, 
362.  The  League,  i.,  308.  French  language,  its 
correctness  in  the  reign  of  Louis  XIV.,  ii.,  399. 
Critical  works  in,  402.  Genius  of,  ib.  Reviews 
by  Peter  Bayle  and  other  critics,  407-409.  En- 
tertaining miscellanies  named  "  Ana,"  409.  The 
Academy  of  Sciences  of  Paris,  420.  Its  Memoirs, 
ib. 

Francis  I.,  king  of  France,  i.,  180;  ii.,  149. 

of  Assisi,  St.,  i.,  119. 

Franciscan  order,  the,  i.,  197. 

Franco,  Italian  poet,  i.,  333. 

Frankfort  fair,  a  mart  for  books,  i.,  411,  412. 

Frederic  II.,  the  emperor,  i ,  68. 

of  Aragon,  king  of  Naples,  i.,  130. 

Free-will,  on,  ii.,  40,  101,  323. 

Frere,  Mr.,  his  "  War  of  the  Giants,  i.,  117. 

Froissart,  i.,  136. 

Fuchs,  Leonard,  his  botanical  works,  i.,  240,  402. 

Furetiere,  Dictionnaire  de,  ii.,  402.  Roman  Bour- 
geois of,  415. 

Fust,  partner  of  Gutenberg,  in  printing,  i.,  95.  Their 
dispute,  97.  Fust,  in  partnership  with  Schaeffer, 
ib. 

GAGUIN,  Robert,  i.,  133. 

Galateo  of  Casa,  his  treatise  on  politeness,  i.,  303. 

Gale,  his  notes  on  lamblichus,  ii.,  275.  His  "  Court 
of  the  Gentiles,"  300. 

Galen,  medical  theory  of,  i.,  237, 238  ;  ii  ,259.  Edi- 
tion of,  by  Andrew  of  Asola,  i.,  177.  Translations 
of  his  works,  182. 

Galileo,  persecution  of,  i.,  236 ;  ii.,  249.  His  ele- 
gance of  style,  219.  His  correspondence,  220. 
Remarks  on  Tasso  by,  222.  On  indivisibles,  243. 
His  theory  of  comets,  247.  Discovers  the  satel- 
lites of  Jupiter,  ib.  Planetary  discoveries  by,  248. 
Maintains  the  Copernican  system,  ib  "  Delia 
Scienza  Mecanica,"  i.,  397  ;  ii.,  251.  Statics  or, 
ib.  His  Dynamics,  ib.  On  hydrostatics  and 
pneumatics,  253.  His  telescope,  254.  Compar- 
ison of  Lord  Bacon  with,  86.  Various  senti- 
ments and  opinions  of,  i.,  167  ;  ii ,  86,  413.  Im- 
portance of  his  discoveries  to  grography,  432. 

Gallican  Church,  liberties  of  the,  ii.,  27   107. 

Gallois,  M.,  critic,  ii.,  407. 


INDEX. 


Galluzzi,  observations  of,  i.,  413. 
Gambara,  Veronica,  i.,  332. 

"  Gammar  Gurton's  Needle,"  comedy,  i.,  229,  367. 
Garcilasso  de  la  Vega,  i.,  219.    His  style  of  ec- 
logue, 219,  336 ;  ii.,  167. 
Gardens,  Rapin's  poem  on,  ii.,  382.    Lord  Bacon 

on,  128.     Botanical,  428. 
Gamier,  Robert,  tragedies  of,  i.,  366. 

Garth's  "  Dispensary,"  ii.,  381. 

Gascoyne,  George,  his  "  Steel  Glass,"  i ,  346.  His 
"  Supposes,"  367.  "  Jocasta,"  a  tragedy,  ib.,  n. 
On  versification,  387. 

Gasparin  of  Barziza,  excellent  Latin  style  of,  i..  63, 
64,  99. 

Gassendi,  astronomical  works  and  observations  of, 
ii.,  241,  251.  His  Life  of  Epicurus,  68, 300.  His 
philosophy,  96,  301,  302,  308,  n  ,  329.  His  logic, 
302,  307,  33).  His  theory  of  ideas,  303.  His 
physics, ib.  Exercitationes  Paradoxicae,  68.  His 
"  Syntagma  Philosophic  Epicuri,"  69.  See  also 
63,  67. 

Gataker,  Thomas,  ii.,  54.  "  Cinnus  or  Adversaria" 
by,  279.  His  Marcus  Antoninus,  ib. 

Gauden,  Bishop,  the  "  Icon  Basilice,"  ii.,  231. 

Gellibrand,  mathematician,  ii.,  242. 

Geneva,  republic  of,  Calvin  invited  by  the,  i.,  193. 
Servetus  burned  at,  280.  The  press  flourishes 
in  Switzerland,  being  mostly  suppressed  in  Italy, 
413. 

.  Genius,  absence  of,  in  writings  of  the  dark  ages,  i., 
28.     Poetic  genius,  335. 

Gennari,  his  character  of  Cujacius,  i.,  321,  322,  n. 

Gensfleisch,  i ,  95. 

Gentilis,  Albericus,  i.,  322,  325.  On  Embassies, 
326.  On  the  Rights  of  War,  ib. 

Geoffrey  of  Monmouth,  i.,  41. 

Geoffry,  abbot  of  St.  Alban's,  i.,  124. 

Geography,  writers  on,  i.,  113,  172,  241,  406-409  ; 
ii.,  266.  Progress  of  geographical  discoveries, 
413,  432. 

Geology,  science  of,  ii.,  428,  429. 

Geometry,  science  of,  i.,  394  ;  ii.,  240,315,  317,330. 

Gerard,  his  Herbal  by  Johnson,  i.,  403  ;  ii.,  259. 

Gerbert,  his  philosophical  eminence,  i.,  28. 

Gerhard,  ii.,  53.     Devotional  songs  of,  173. 

German  poetry,  specimens  of  early,  i.,  29,  n.,  42. 
Imaginative  spirit  of,  220. 

hymns,  i.,  197,  221  ;  ii.,  173.     Ballads,  i., 

$44. 

Qarmany,  the  Reformation  of  religion,  i.,  163,  tl  srq., 
186-198,  255,  271,  et  passim.  Character  of  the 
nation  influenced  by  it,  163, 164.  Schools  of,  108, 
181.  Philologists  of,  245,  254,  255;  ii.,  366. 
Metaphysicians  of,  331.  Modern  Latin  poets  of, 
185.  Declineof  learning  in,  i.,  159;  ii.,  272.  The 
press,  i.,  131,  144,  159.  Book  fairs,  412.  The 
stage,  169.  220,  228,  et  passim.  Literary  patrons 
of,  159.  Rise  of  poetry  in,  ii.,  171.  Poets,  372, 
ft  passim.  Universities,  i.,  159.  Public  libra- 
ries, 244.  Popular  dramatic  writers  of,  169,  220, 
228.  Protestants  of,  187,  et  seq.,  194,  274,279. 
The  press  less  controlled  than  in  Italy  and  Spain, 
413 

Gesner,  Conrad,  his  Pandects,  i.,  240.  His  great 
erudition,  254.  His  "  Mithridates,  sive  de  differ- 
eutiis  linguarum,"  254,  406.  '  His  "  Stobaeus," 
254.  His  work  on  zoology,  399  :  ii.,  258.  His 
classification  of  plants,  i.,  402.  Bibliotheca 
TJniversalis  of,  412.  Botanical  observations  by, 
425. 

Gerson,  opinion  of,  ii.,  124,  125. 

Geulinx,  metaphysics  of,  ii.,  306. 

Gifanius,  German  civilian,  i.,  322. 

Gifford,  Mr.,  criticisms  of,  ii.,  205,  206,  216. 

Gilbert,  "  On  the  Magnet,"  i.,  398;  ii.,  63. 

Gil  Bias,  Le  Sage's,  i.,  389  ;  ii.,  235. 

Gillius,  "  de  vi  et  natura  animalium,"  i.,  24C. 


445 

52,  64,  146,  n.,  123,  225, 


Ginguene,  remarks  of, 

332,  359,  361,  377,  n. 

Giotto,  works  of,  i.,  73. 

Giraldi,  Lilio  Gregorio,  his  "  Historia  de  diis  gen- 
tium," i.,  269. 
Girard,  Albert,  his  "  Invention  nouvelle  en  aleebre  " 

ii.,  244. 
Glanvil,  Joseph,  ii.,  298,  299.    His  "  Scepsis  scien- 

tifica,"  325,  et  seq.     His  "  Plus  ultra,"  &c.,  326. 
Glasgow,  University  of,  i.,  265,  299. 

Glass,  Philologia  Sacra  by,  ii.,  54. 

Glauber,  chymist,  ii.,  421. 

God,  the  eternal  law  of,  disquisition  on.ii  ,  124, 125. 
Ideas  of,  by  certain  metaphysicians,  i.,  291  ;  ii 
67,  93,  98,  102,  116,  314,  317,  319,  e«  seq.,322,  324, 
332, 338.    Attributes  of,  according  to  the  divines. 
336. 

Godefroy,  James,  his  Theodosian  Code,  i.,  322 ;  ii , 
366. 

Godwin,  Francis,  his  "Journey  of  Gonsalez  to  the 
Moon,"  ii.,  239. 

,  Mr.,  remarks  of,  i.,  348,  n. 

Golden  Number,  the,  i.,  271. 

Golding,  poems  of,  i.,  387. 

Goltzius,  Hubert,  Flemish  engraver,  i.,  269,  410. 

Gombauid,  French  author,  ii.,  171,  225. 

Gomberville,  his  romance  of  "  Polexandre,"ii.,23G. 
Critiques  by,  407,  n. 

Gongora,  Luis  de,  affectation  of,  ii.,  176.  His  po- 
etry, 169.  His  school,  ib. 

Goose,  Mother,  Tales  of,  ii.,  416. 

Gothoired,  writings  of,  i.,  266. 

Goujet,  criticisms  of,  i ,  233  ;  ii.,  294,  295,  n 

Govea,  civilian,  i.,  322. 

Government,  patriarchal  theory  of,  ii ,  132.  Wri- 
ters on,  i.,  182,  210,  232  ;  ii.,  353,  358.  Writers 
against  oppressive,  i ,  304,  306,  307.  Origin  of 
commonwealths,  313.  Rights  of  citizens,  ib.  Na- 
ture of  sovereign  power,  314.  Despotism  and 
monarchy,  ib. 

Gower's  poems,  i.,  46. 

Gozzi,  Gasparo,  plays  of,  ii.,  189,  n. 

(Jraaf,  physician,  ii.,  430. 

Gracian,  Spanish  author,  ii.,  222. 

Gradenigo,  his  testimony  as  to  vestiges  of  Greek 
leaining  in  Italy,  i.,  68. 

Graecia  Illustrata,  Vetus,  ii.,  23. 

Gravius,  collections  of,  i.,  266.  Remarks  of,  267. 
Editions  of  Latin  classics  by,  ii.,  272.  Thesau- 
rus antiqnitatum  Rornanaruin  by,  377. 

Grammar,  remarks  on  Latin,  i.,  34,  35.  Latin 
grammars,  ii.,  273,  et  passim.  Greek,  i.,  144,  178, 
252.  et  seq  ,  263,  et  seq. ;  \i  ,273,  et  passim.  French, 
i.,  233,  et  seq.  Oriental,  170.  Hebrew,  241. 
English,  and  various,  passim.  Lancelot's  French, 
ii.,  402. 

Granada,  Las  Guerras  de,"  romances,  i.,  341, 390. 
"  Conquest  of,"  by  Graziani,  ii.,  166. 

Grant,  his  Graecae  Linguae  Spicilegium,  i.,  263. 

Grassi,  Jesuit,  his  treatise  "de  tribus  cometis,  anno 
1619,"  ii.,  247. 

Graunt's  "  Bills  of  Mortality,"  ii.,  364. 

Gravina,  criticisms,  &c.,  of,  i.,  167,  168,322;  n., 
366,  369,  381. 

Gravitation,  a  general,  denied  by  Descartes,  ii  ,  250. 

Gray,  Mr.,  his  remarks  on  rhyme,  i.,  34,  n.  On  the 
Reformation,  193. 

Graziani,  his  Conquest  of  Granada,  ii.,  166. 

Grazzini,  surnarred  11  Lasca,  i.,  333. 

Greek  learning,  revival  of,  i.,  65,  177.  On  Greek 
tragecV,  ii.,  374,  377.  Greek,  a  living  language 
until  the  fall  of  Constantinople,  i.,  69.  Appoint- 
ed to  be  taught  at  Oxford  and  Cambridge,  &c., 
182,  262;  ii.,  275.  Scholars,  i.,  151,  244,  255. 
Oil  the  pronunciation  of,  183.  Printing  of,  144, 
150,  151,  264,  265.  Editions  of  classic  authors, 
128, 150,  151, 179.  Grammars  and  lexicons,  150, 


446 


INDEX. 


178,  250,  252,  263 ;  ii.,  273.  Physicians,  the 
teachers  of  science  and  learning,  i.,  237.  Decline 
of  Greek,  ii.,  14.  Early  printed  book,  i.,  103,  n. 

Greene,  plays  by,  i ,  347,  370,  372,  382 ;  ii.,  197. 
Novels  by,  i.,  391. 

Gregorian  calendar,  the,  i.,  270,  271,  396. 

Gregory  I ,  i.,  20,  n. 

IV.,  Pope,  opinions  of,  i.,  34. 

XIII.,  Jesuits  encouraged  by,  i.,  274. 

Greek  college  established  by,  ib.  His  calendar, 
270,  390.  Maronite  college  founded  by,  406. 

of  Tours,  i.,  34. 

Gretser,  Uom;sh  controvertist,  ii.,  53. 

Grevin,  his  Jules  Cesar,  i.,  365. 

Grew,  his  botanical  writings,  ii.,  301,  420,  427. 

Grimani,  Cardinal,  his  library,  i.,  244. 

Gringore,  Peter,  his  "  Prince  des  Sots  et  la  Mere 
Sotte,"  i.,  168,  169. 

Grocyn,  William,  i.,  133. 

Grollier,  Jean,  i.,  180.     His  library,  ib. 

Groningen,  College  of  St.  Edward's  near,  i.,  108. 

Gronovius,  James  Frederic,  critical  labours  of,  ii., 
272. 

• , ,  Greek  critic,  ii.,  272.  His 

"  Thesaurus  antiquitatum  Grascarum,"  277. 

Grotius,  his  various  works,  "  Ue  Jure  Belli,"  &c., 
&c.,  i.,  324,  326  ;  ii.,  17,  19,  44,  47,  126,  141,  159, 
346,  353,  366.  Latin  poetry  of,  185.  His  reli- 
gious sentiments,  32,  54.  Controversy  thereon, 
32-36.  Treatise  on  Ecclesiastical  Power  of  the 
State,  46.  His  Annotations  on  the  Old  and  New 
Testament,  54.  "  De  Veritate,"  58. 

Groto,  Italian  dramatist,  i.,  359  ;  ii.,  186,  see  n. 

Gruchius  or  Grouchy,  his  learning,  i.,  266.  "  De 
Comitiis  Komanorum,"  267. 

Gruter's  Thesaurus  Criticus,  i.,  247,  265  ;  ii.,  17. 
The  "  Corpus  Inscriptionum"  of,  22.  His  "  Deli- 
ciae  poetarum  Gallorum,"  &c.,  i..  356. 

Gruyer's  Essays  on  Descartes,  ii.,  91,  n. 

Gryna;us,  Simon,  translator  of  Plutarch's  Lives,  i., 
181.  His  geography,  24 1 ,  406. 

Gryph  or  Gryphius,  tragedies  of,  ii.,  173. 

Guarini,  his  "  Pastor  Fido,"  i.,  360. 

Guarino,  of  Verona,  i.,  64. 

Guevara,  his  works  much  read,  i.,  414. 

Guicciardini,  his  History  of  Italy,  i ,  242,409. 

,  his  brother  Ludovico,  ii.,  131. 

Gnidi,  Odes  of,  ii.,  165,  367. 

Guido,  imbued  with  the  genius  of  Tasso,  i.,  336  ; 
ii.,  416 

Guignes,  De,  History  of  the  Huns  by,  ii.,  432. 

Guijon,  his  Latin  poetry,  ii ,  184. 

Guil!on,his  Gnomon,  an  early  work  on  Greek  quan- 
tity, i.,  253.  n. 

Guizot,  M.,  his  literary  observations,  i.,  29,  n. 

Gunpowder  plot,  the,  ii.,  26. 

Gunter,  on  sines  and  tangents,  ii.,  242. 

Gustavus  Vasa,  king  of  Sweden,  i.,  187. 

Gutenberg,  inventor  of  the  art  of  printing,  i.,  95. 

Guther  on  the  pontifical  law  of  Rome,  ii.,  23. 

Guyon,  Madame,  writings  of,  ii.,  289. 

"  Guzman  d'Alfarache,  of  Aleman,  i.,  389. 

HABINGTON,  his  poetry,  ii.,  182. 

Haddon,  Walter,  his  excellent  Latinity.and  "  Ora- 
tions" of,  i.,  259. 

Hakewill,  George,  on  the  Power  and  Providence  of 
God,  ii.,  270. 

Hakluyt's  "  Voyages,"  i.,  407  ;  ii.,  266. 

Hales,  scholastic  reputation  of,  i.,  31,  n.,  32,  n. 

.  John,  on  Schism,  ii ,  38,  40. 

Hall,  Bishop,  his  works,  ii.,  30,  n  ,  125.  His  "  Mun- 
dus  alter  et  idem,"  238.  "  Art  of  Divine  Medita- 
tion," 56.  His  "  Contemplations,"  ib.  His  Sa- 
tires, i.,349. 

Hamilton,  Anthony,  ii ,  409, 415.  "  Fleurd'Epine," 
416.  Memoirs  of  de  Grammont  by,  433. 


Hammond,  his  "  Paraphrase  and  Annotations  on 

the  New  Testament,"  ii.,  288. 
Harding,  metrical  chronicler,  i.,  170. 

,  the  Jesuit,  i.,  284. 

Hardy.  French  dramatist  and  comedian,  ii.,  192. 

Harlequins,  Italian,  ii.,  287,  n. 

Harpe,  La,  criticisms  of,  i.,  342  ;  ii.,  236,  296,  372, 

389. 
Harrington,  Sir  James,  his  "  Oceana,"  ii.,  357. 

— ,  Sir  John,  i.,  345,  n.,  350. 

Harriott,  his  generalization  of  algebraic  equations, 

i.,  235,  236,  392,  393  ;  ii.,  103,  n.     His  "  Artis 

analytics  praxis,"  244. 
Harrow  School,  rules  by  its  founder,  Mr.  Lyon,  i., 

263. 

Hartley's  metaphysical  tenets,  ii.,  118. 
Harvey,  William,  his  discovery  of  the  circulation 

of  the  blood,  i.,  239;  ii.,  259,261.    On  generation, 

262. 

,  Gabriel,  i.,  350,  387. 

Ha'uy,  ii.,  80. 

Havelok  the  Dane,  metrical  romance,  i.,  4i. 

Hawes,  Stephen,  his  "  Pastime  of  Pleasure,"  &c.  . 

i.,  169. 

Hawkins's  Ancient  Drama,  i.,  228,  370,  n. 
Heat  and  cold,  antagonist  principles,  i.,  292. 
Hebrew,  highly  valued  by  German  literati,  i.,  241 

Books,  162.     Study  of,  405  ;  ii.,  263,  et.  seq.    The 

vowel  points,  264.     The  Mr.soretic  punctuation 

of  the  Scriptures, ib.    The  Rabbinical  literature, 

263,  n.,  264.     Eminent  scholars  in,  i.,  405  ;  ii., 

264.  Grammars  and   lexicons,  i.,  211,  ft   seq. 
Types,  406.     Spencer  de  legibus  Hebraoruin,  ii., 
431. 

Hector  and  Andromache,  Dryden's  criticism  on  Ho- 
mer, ii.,  411. 

Hegius,  Alexander,  i ,  109. 

Heineccius.  remarks  of,  i.,  321. 

Heinsius,  Daniel,  works  of,  i.,  260 ;  ii.,  17.  Latin 
elegies,  185.  His  "  Peplus  Grscorum  epigram- 
matum,"  186. 

Helden  Buch,  the,  i.,  42. 

Helmorit,  Van,  medical  theories  of,  ii., 263, 421, 427, 
430. 

Henri  III.,  i.,  308,  209, 31 1.     His  assassination,  310. 

IV.,i.,  283,  286,  308  ;  ii.,  25,  31,  n.,  131,  170. 

Henrietta,  duchess  of  Orleans,  ii.,  295,  n 

Maria,  Queen,  ii.,  217,  295. 

Henry  IV.,  Bolingbroke,  i.,  307. 

—  VI.,  reign  of,  i ,  125,  228. 

VII.  of  England,  i.,  145,  170,  228. 

VIII.,  i.,  155,  180,  193,  228,  233,  237,  285, 

308  ;  ii.,  138. 

Herbelot,  d',  Bibliotheque  Orientale  of,  ii.,  432. 

Herberay,  translations  of,  i.,  168. 

Herbert  of  Cherbury,  Lord,  his  Henry  VIII.,  ii., 
267.  "  De  rehgione  Gentilinm,"  58,  67.  "  De 
veritate,"  58,  67.  Axioms,  66.  Conditions  of 
truth,  ib.  Instinctive  truths,  ib.  Internal  per- 
ceptions, 67.  Notions  of  natural  religion,  ib. 
Gassendi's  remarks  on  Herbert,  ib. 

,  George,  his  "  Country  Parson,"  ii.,  56. 

,  Sir  Henry,  master  of  the  revels,  ii.,  197. 

,  William,  earl  of  Pembroke  (Shakspeare's 

Sonnets  dedicated  to  Mr.  W.  H.),  ii.,  179,  n.,  180. 
His  poems,  182. 

's  Catalogue,  quoted,  i.,  263,  264,  n.,  265. 

Herder,  the  "  Zerstreute  Blatter"  of,  i.,  162,  n. ;  ii., 
130. 

Hermolaus  Barbaras,  celebrity  of,  i.,  129. 

Hernando,  d'Oviedo,  Natural  History  by,  i.,  400, 
407. 

Herrera,  Spanish  poems  of,  i.,  337. 

Herrick,  Robert,  poems  of,  ii.,  181,  182. 

Herschel,  Sir  John,  ii.,  79. 

Hersent  or  Optatus  Gallus,  ii.,  29. 

Heywood,  his  play  "  The  Royal  King  and  Lcyal 


INDEX 


Subject,"  ii.,  209.  Account  of  his  dramas,  i.,  371 ; 
ii.,  217. 

Higclen,  Rnnulph  Chester,  mysteries  by,  i.,  124. 

Hippocrates.  Aphorisms  of,  Arabic  version  on  linen 
paper,  A.I).  1100,1,50.  His  system  of  medicine, 
by  whorn  restored,  237.  By  whom  translated, 
237,  405. 

Historians,  ecclesiastical,  i.,  288. 

Historical  and  Critical  Dictionary  of  Bayle,  ii.,408. 

"  Historie  of  Grande  Amour"  by  Stephen  Hawes, 
i.,  169. 

History,  ii.,  75.  Writers  of,  i.,  242,  409  ;  ii.,  266, 
267.  Classic,  i.,  304,  et  passim. 

Hobiies,  Thomas,  his  philosophy  and  writings,  ii , 
126,  233,  2S9,  300,  302,  339,  313,  343,  353.  Sum- 
mary of  his  works  on  metaphysical  philosophy, 
104-119.  See  his  topics  stated  separately  in  In- 
dex.  "  De  Cive"  by,  104,355.  "  Leviathan"  by, 
104,  10Q,  et  passim.  Political  works  of,  135-141. 
His  objections  to  the  meditations  of  Descartes, 
94,  95,  'JO.  Style  of,  and  the  English  writers  af- 
ter the  Restoration,  410. 

Hocdeve,  English  poet,  i.,  222,  223. 

HotTmanswaldau,  Ger  nan  poet,  ii.,  372. 

Holinshed's  Chronicle,  i.,  232,  n. 

Holland,  Lord,  i.,  338,  n.,  303,  364  ;  ii.,  170. 

,  literature,  philosophy,  and  poetry  of  the 

Dutch  authors,  i.,  260,  270  ;  ii.,  17,  173,  185,  &c  , 
272,  el  passim.  Political  state  of,  357,  362. 

Homer,  comparison  of  Virgil  with,  i.,  332.  Of  Ari- 
osfo  with,  166,  167,  163.  Of  Milton  with,  n., 
373,371.  Of  Tasso  with,  i.,  333.  Translations 
of,  34 1,  n.,  350  ;  ii.,  218,  274.  See  also  i.,  113  ; 
ii.,  406,  411,  416. 

Hooke,  Dr.,  ii.,  420.     His  Micrographia,  422,  427. 

Hooker,  •'  Ecclesiastical  Polity"  of,  i.,  300.  See 
also  201,  265,  266,  284,  311,  381  ;  ii.,  45, 124,  138, 
360,  36-!,  410. 

Horace,  emendation  of  the  text  of,  by  Lambinus,  i., 
248  The  edition  of,  by  Crnquius,  styled  the 
Scholiast.  219  Dacier's,  ii.,274.  "  De  Arte  po- 
etica,"  370,  3i)0  Odes  of,  i.,  40,  337;  ii.,  166. 
Imitators  of,  166,  167,  et  passim. 

Horrox,  scientific  discoveries  of,  ii.,  251. 

Hoschms,  Sidonms,  ii.,  185. 

Hospital,  De  1',  Latin  poems  of,  i.,  357. 

Hottinger,  Bililiotheca  Onentalis  of,  ii.,  431. 

Hottoman,  the  "  Franco-Gallia"  of,  i.,  305.  His 
"  Digest,"  321.  His  "  Anti-Tribonianus,"  323. 

Houssuye,  Ainelot  de  la,  ii  ,  357. 

Howard,  Sir  Robert,  his  Observations  on  Dryden, 
and  tne  poet's  reply,  ii.,  411. 

Howell,  James,  his  "  Dodona's  Grove,"  ii., 239, 357. 

Hudibras,  ii.,  165,  373,  378. 

Hudson's  Thucydides,  ii.,  275. 

Huet,  bishop  of  Avranches,  his  "  Demonstratio 
Evangeiiea,"  ii.,  292. 

,  Bishop,  antagonist  of  Scaliger,  ii.,  24,  237. 

Remarks  of,  273.  The  Index  to  the  Delphm 
classics,  274.  His  "  Censura  Philosophise  Can- 
tesianae,"  307. 

Hughes,  works  of,  i.,  371. 

Human  nature,  on,  ii.,  104,  et  seq.,  291,  292. 

Hume,  D*vid,  Essays  of,  ii.,  98. 

Hunnis,  William,  poems  of,  i.,  345. 

Hunter,  observations  of,  ii.,  301. 

Hurd,  Bishop,  his  remarks  on  Shakspeare,  ii.,  205, 
n.  On  Euripides,  386.  On  Moliere,  389. 

Huss,  John,  i.,  319. 

Hutcheson's  philosophical  works,  ii ,  343. 

Hutten,  Ulric  von,  the  "  Epistolse  obscurorum  vi- 

rorum,"  i ,  162,  n.,  166. 
Hutton,  Dr.,  quotations  from,  i.,  235. 

's  Mathematical  Dictionary,  i.,  394. 

Huygens,  mathematician,  ii ,  419. 

Hyde,  "  Religionis  Persarum  Historia"  of,  ii.,  432. 

Hydraulics,  science  of,  ii.,  253. 


Hydrostatics  and  Pneumatics,  i.,  397,  398  ;  ii.,253. 
Hymns,  German,  i.,  197,  221  ;  ii.,  173. 

ICON  Basilice,  author  of  the,  ii.,  231. 


317.     Origin  of,  328.     Of  sensation,  331.     Simple 
and  complex,  333.    Innate,  333,  339. 

Idola  and  fallacies,  ii.,  78,  88,  n.,  422. 

Imagination,  the,  ii.,  95,  105.    Train  of,  106. 

Independents,  the,  ii.,  48. 

India,  Portuguese  settlements  in,  i.,  407. 

Infidelity,  progress  of,  ii.,  58. 

Infinites,  theory  of,  ii.,  97.  Infinity,  Hobbes  against, 
106. 

Fnghirami,  on  Etruscan  antiquities,  ii.,  23. 

Ingulfus,  his  History,  i.,  37. 

Innocent  X  ,  ii.,  285. 

XI.,  ii.,  279,  282. 

XII.,  ii.,  280. 

Inquisition,  the,  i.,  162,  273,  384.  Bibles  and  n»a 
merous  books  burned  by,  413. 

Inscriptions,  ancient,  the  memorials  of  the  learni.if 
of  antiquity,  i.,  68,  177,  410;  ii.,  22,  278,  421. 

Insects,  General  History  of,  ii.,  424. 

Insulis,  Gualterus  de,  i.,  59. 

Iscanus,  Joseph,  i.,  59. 

Isidore  of  Soville,  i ,  26. 

Italy,  Greek  learning  in,  i  ,68,  113.  Academies  of, 
117,  1'29,  242,  291,  384,  411  ;  ii.,  221,  269.  Uni 
versities  in,  i.,  409 ;  ii.,  61.  Latin  poetry  of 
modern  Italy  and  of  Europe,  i ,  "25,  383  ;  ii.,  185. 
See  Latin.  The  Tuscan  dialect,  i.,  232, 243, 333, 
385;  ii.,  221,  403.  Taste,  i.,  175;  ii.,  367.  It« 
decline,  i.,  232.  Criticism,  232,  330,  &c.,  383. 
Eminent  sjholars,  177.  See  the  authors,  nomi- 
natim,  in  Index.  Poetry  and  poets  of,  99,  131, 
327,  330,  332  ;  ii.,  163,  367,  375,  376,  et  passim. 
Character  of  poetry,  i.,216,  &c.  Sonnets,  splen- 
did and  also  tedious,  217.  See  Sonnets.  Prose 
authors,  100, 377.  See  them,  nominatim.  Letter 
writers,  378,  412.  Contrast  of  Italian  and  Latin, 
230.  Modern  Latinists,  iheir  style,  258  ;  ii.,  20, 
et  passim.  Tragedy,  i,  226,  3J9  ;  ii.,  136,  188. 
See  dramatic  authors,  nominatim.  Comedy,  i.. 
225,  359,  et  passim.  The  Opera  and  Meloilramt 
360.  Novelle  and  works  of  liction,  383;  ii.,217 
Heterodoxy  of  certain  authors,  until  persecutions 
against  the  Reformation,  i.,  194,  &c. 

JAMES  I ,  literature  and  philosophy  in  his  reign,  i , 
266;  ii.,  175,  184,  217,  2'28.  His  "  Apology  for 
the  Oath  of  Allegiance,"  26.  Principles  of  gov- 
ernment, 132.  His  encouragement  of  the  stage, 
197.  The  Anabaptists  punished  by,  i.,23l.  The 
English  Bible,  ii.,  58,  59. 

Jameson,  Mrs.,  her  Essay  on  the  Female  Charac- 
ters of  Shakspeare,  ii ,  205. 

Jarisensim,  rise  of,  ii.,  43. 

Jansenists,  the,  and  Port  Royal  Grammarians,  i., 
252  ;  ii.,  273.  Their  controversy  with  Koine,  284. 
Writings  of  Arnauld,  ib.  History  of  Jansenism, 
ib,n.  Persecution  of  the,  285.  Their  casuistry 
opposed  to  that  of  the  Jesuits,  120.  Their  polite 
literature,  399. 

Jansenius,  bishop  of  Ypres,  i.,  279.  His  "  Augu«- 
tinus,"  ii.,  43,  284.  Us  condemnation,  284. 

Jarchi's  Commentary  on  the  Pentateuch,  i.,  114. 

Jauregni,  his  translation  of  the  Aminta  of  Tasso,  i , 
338,  n. 

Jenkinson,  Anthony,  his  travels  in  Russia  and  Per- 
sia, i.,  407. 

Jens,  Zachary,  ii.,  254. 

Jesuits,  bull  of  Paul  HI.  establishing  their  order,  i., 
196.  Their  unpopularity,  ii ,  29.  Their  casuisti- 
cal writings,  120,  et  seq.,  335,  336.  Colleges  and 


448 


INDEX. 


scholastic  establishments  of  the,  i.,  256,  273, 274. 
Their  learning,  256.  Latin  poetry  of,  ii.,  26, 381. 
Their  influence,  i.,  273, 285  ;  ii.,  131.  Satire  upon 
the,  238.  "Their  corruption  of  morality,  121. 
Their  missionaries,  Roger  and  Ricci,  in  China,  i., 
407;  ii.,  265.  Their  colleges  in  France,  273. 
Seminary  at  Rome,  i.,  274.  Writings  of  Molina 
and  Lessius,  309  ;  ii.,  284.  See  also  285,  399. 

Jewell's  "  Apology,"  i.,  284.  "  Defence  of  the 
Apology,"  266. 

Jews,  their  theory  of  natural  law,  i.,  119  ;  ii.,  126. 
The  Cabala,  i ,  119,  162.  Cabalistic  and  Rab- 
binical authors,  ii.,  65.  Invention  of  Hebrew 
vowel  points,  264.  Their  history,  i.,  305.  Their 
laws,  ii.,  432. 

Jobert,  his  "  La  Science  des  Medailles,"  ii.,  278. 

Jodelle,  dramatist  and  poet,  i.,  343.  Tragedy  by, 
365.  Comedies,  ib. 

Johannes  Secundus,  i.,  225. 

John  Malpaghino  or  John  of  Ravenna,  i.,  63. 

Johnson,  Dr  Samuel,  his  Lives  of  the  Poets,  ii., 
373,  375,  n.,  376,  378,  395.  His  opinion  of  Cow- 
ley,  410.  See  also  129,  n. 

Joinville,  De,  ancient  manuscript  letter  of,  i ,  51,  n. 

Jonson,  Ben,  his  "  Kvery  Man  in  his  Humour,"  i , 
376.  Its  merit,  ib.  His  minor  poetry,  ii.,  181, 
183.  His  plays,  205.  The  Alchymist,  ib.  Vol- 
pone,  or  the  Fox,  206.  The  Silent  Woman,  ib. 
Pastoral  drama  of  the  Sad  Shepherd,  181,  183, 
206.  This  drama  the  nearest  approach  to  the 
poetry  of  Shakspeare,  206.  His  "  Discoveries 
made  upon  Men  and  Matter,"  232.  English 
Grammar  by,  232,  411,  n. 

Jonston,  Arthur,  his  "  Delicia?  Poetarum  Scoto- 
rum,"  ii.,  186.  His  "  Psalms,"  ib. 

,  Natural  History  of  Animals  by,  ii.,  257, 

424. 

Jortin's  Life  of  Erasmus,  i.,  161. 

Joubert,  eminent  in  medicine,  at  Montpelier,  i., 
405. 

Journal  des  Savans,  ii.,  406,  407. 

Jouvancy.  Latin  orations  of,  ii.,  273. 

Jovius,  Paulus,  "de  piscibus  Romanis,"  i.,  240. 
His  History,  242. 

.Tudicium  de  Stylo  Historico,  of  Scicppius,  ii.,  20. 

Jugetnens  des  Savans,  Baillet's,  ii.,  409. 

Julian  Period,  invention  of  the  cycle  of  the,  by  Sca- 
liger,  i.,  270  ;  ii.,  24. 

Julie  d'Angennes,  ii.,  224.  "  The  Garland  of  Ju- 
lia," 224,  237. 

Jungius,  his  Isagoge,  Phytoscopica,  ii ,  425. 

Junius,  version  of  Scripture  by.  i ,  290,  405. 

Jupiter,  satellites  of,  ii.,  432. 

Jurieu,  polemical  writer,  ii.,  293,  n.,  4C8. 

Jurisprudence,  the  Civil  Law,  i.,  32,  33,  52  ;  ii., 
141,354,365.  The  golden  age  of,  i.,  321,322. 
Opponents  of  the  Roman  law,  322.  See  Law. 

Justinian  Code  and  Pandects,  i ,  52  ;  ii.,  365,  366. 

KAIMES,  Lord,  his  commentary  on  Shakspeare,  ii., 
205. 

Kastner,  i.,  77.  Passage  from,  on  algebraic  discov- 
ery,  235,  n.,  393. 

Kepler,  his  logarithms,  ii.,  242.  His  modern  geom- 
etry, ib.  His  Stereometria  doliorum,  ib.  His 
Commentaries  on  the  planet  Mars,  247.  His  dis- 
coveries in  optics,  254.  On  gravitation,  250. 
His  demonstrations,  413. 

King,  Gregory,  ii.,  365. 

Kings,  the  popes  claim  the  power  of  deposing,  i., 
285.  Engagements  of,  to  their  subjects,  ii.,  149. 

Kircher,  Athanasius,  the  Mundus  subterraneus  of, 
ii.,  428.  On  China,  432. 

Knolles,  his  grammar,  i.,  264.  History  of  the  Turks, 
ii.,  229 

Knott,  the  Jesuit,  argument  of,  ii.,  38. 

Koornhert,  Theodore,  i.,  283  ;  ii.,  48. 


Koran,  the,  by  Pagnino,  i.,  241,  406.    Bv  Maracct 

i\,  432. 
Kyd,  his  tragedies,  i.,  371,  n. 

LA  BRUVERE,  Caracteres  de,  ii.,  348. 

La  Croix  du  Maine,  i.,  387,  412. 

La  Croze,  M.,  reviewer,  ii.,  407. 

La  Fayette,  Countess  de,  her  novels,  ii.,  114. 

La  Fontaine,  Fables  of,  ii.,  369,  370. 

La  Forge  of  Saumur,  ii..  306. 

La  Fosse,  his  tragedy  of  Manlius,  ii ,  389. 

La  Harpe,  criticisms  of,  i.,  342  ;  ii. ,  236,  296,  372, 
389,  400,  403. 

La  Mothe  le  Vayer,  "Dialogues,"  &c.,  of,  ii.,^58, 
127,  132,  227. 

La  Noue,  political  and  military  discourses  of,  i., 
311. 

La  Placette,  his  "  Essais  de  Morale,"  ii.,  337,  346 

Labbe,  Philip,  ii.,  15,  53. 

Lacepede,  M.,  i.,  401. 

Laetus,  Pomponius,  i.,  123. 

Lalemandet,  "  Decisiones  Philosophies"  of,  ii ,  60. 

Lamb,  Charles,  "  Specimens  of  Early  English  Po- 
ets," i  ,  369,  n. 

Lambinus,  his  Horace,  i.,249.     His  Cicero,  ib.,  n. 

Larni,  "  Rhetorique  or  Art  de  Parler"  of,  ii.,  402. 

Lancelot,  author  of  the  Port  Royal  Greek  Grammar, 
i ,  252  ;  ii.,  273,  285.  His  French  Grammar,  402, 

Lancilotti,  his  "  L'hoggidi"  or  "  To-Day,"  ii.,  270. 

Landino,  critic,  i.,  106. 

Lanfranc,  Archbishop,  acquainted  with  Greek,  i., 
57,  68. 

Langius,  Rodolph,  i.,  111. 

Language,  origin  of,  ii.,  107.  Unmeaning,  115. 
Effect  of  ignorance  of,  and  vice  versa,  116.  Ori- 
gin of  the  French,  Spanish,  and  Italian,  i ,  33. 
Works  on  the  French,  n.,  226,  227,  353.  Mod- 
ern, when  rendered  fit  for  poetry,  i.,  84.  Anglo- 
Saxon,  the  foundation  of  the  English,  44.  Span- 
ish dialects,  219.  Character  of  the  language,  ib. 
Oriental  literature,  ii.,  263,  et  seq.  On  ancient 
and  modern,  403.  English  prose  of  Dryden,  Cow- 
ley,  and  others,  409,  410-412.  Critical  remarks 
thereon,  410,  411.  See  Greek,  Latin,  &c.,  in 
this  Index. 

Languet,  Hubert,  "  Vindicis  contra  tyrannos"  of. 
i.,  305,  308  ;  ii.,  362. 

Larivey,  French  comedies  by,  i.,  366. 

Larroque,  M.,  ii.,  363. 

Lascaris,  Constantine,  i.,  93.  His  Greek  gramma^ 
103. 

,  John,  i.,  148.  Not  to  be  confounded  with 

Constantine  Lascaris,  149,  n.  • 

Latin  poetry  of  the  dark  ages  universally  jejune,  i., 
29.  Low  Latin  unfit  to  express  any  popular  sen- 
timent, 84.  The  Ciceronian  style,  174,  175. 
Modern  Latin  poets,  129,  383;  ii.,  184,  186,  187. 
Editions  of  classics,  i.,  104,  131,  24-1,  248,  264; 
ii.,  18,  272,  273,  et  passim.  Its  vulgar  dialect, 
styled  quotidiamis,  pedestris,  and  usualis,  i.,  34. 
Clergy  preached  in,  35.  Modern  Latin  poets,  1 15, 
224 ;  ii.,  185.  Comparison  of  cultivation  of,  on 
the  Continent  and  in  England,  i.,  265.  Latin 
style  in  the  fifteenth  century,  64.  In  the  six- 
teenth and  seventeenth  centuries,  231,  254,  255, 
356;  ii.,  273,  381.  Decline  of  classical  learning, 
i.,  255,  259,  261  ;  ii.,  272.  Latimty  of  the  seven- 
teenth century,  20,  21.  Predilection  of  modern 
authors  for  the  language,  19.  Methods  of  learn- 
ing, 351, 352.  Latin  metres  imitated  in  the  mod- 
ern languages,  i.,  333,  344,  350.  Restrictions  on 
the  press,  a  cause  of  the  use  of  Latin  by  men  of 
letters,  414.  Latin  compared  with  French  and 
Italian,  ii.,  403.  Various  remarks  on  learning, 
and  the  study  of  the  classics.  See  Learning,  et 
passim. 

Latini,  Brunetto,  i.,  41. 


INDEX. 


449 


Latinus  Latinius,  his  classical  eminence,  i.,  259. 

Latitudinarians,  tenets  of  the,  ii.,  40,  287. 

Laud,  Archbishop,  ii.,  30,  39,  47.  His  additions  to 
the  Bodleian  library,  268. 

Lauder,  ii.,  186,  376,  n. 

Laura,  i.,  384. 

Law,  early  MSS.  books  of,  on  parchment,  i.,  52. 
Legal  studies  facilitated,  ib.  Unwritten  feudal 
customs  reduced  into  treatises,  ib.  Roman  and 
civil,  handed  down  in  perpetual  succession  of 
ages,  ib.  Codes  of  Theodosius  and  Justinian 
have  always  been  in  force,  ib.  Study  of  Civil, 
32,  33  ;  ii.,  354.  366.  Of  nations,  i.,  322, 324, 325  ; 
ii.,  151,  353,  355,  366.  Writers  on  Roman  juris- 
prudence, 365.  The  "  Corpus  Juris  Civilis," 3G6. 
On  public  law,  i,  325.  Theory  of  natural  law, 
300  ;  ii.,  143.  Writers  on  jurisprudence,  i.,  321- 
324.  Canon  law,  the,  324 

Lawrence,  regius  professor  of  Greek,  i.,  262. 

Lazarillo  de  Tormes,  by  Mendoza,  i.,  389. 

lie  Bceuf,  researches  of,  i.,  34. 

Le  Clerc,  John,  criticisms  of,  ii.,  274,  275,  285,  298. 
His  commentary  on  the  Old  Testament,  286. 
His  Bibliotheque  Universelle,  &c ,  ib.  Other 
works  of,  i.,  288  ;  ii.,  42,  290,  301,  362,  407.  His 
"  Parrhasiana,"  409. 

Le  Grand,  works  of,  ii.,  306. 

Le  Long,  Polyglott  of,  ii.,  431. 

Le  Maistre,  forensic  speeches  of,  ii.,  227,  228,  295. 

Le  Sage,  his  Gil  Bias,  i.,  389  ;  ii.,  235. 

Le  Tourneur,  dramatist,  ii.,  218. 

League,  Holy,  tenets  of  the,  i.,30S.  Satire  Menip- 
pe'e,  upon  the,  379. 

Leake,  Col.  William  Martin,  his  "  Morea,"  i ,  69,  n. 

Learning,  retrospect  of,  in  the  Middle  Ages,  i.,  25. 
Loss  of,  on  the  fall  of  the  Roman  Empire  of  the 
West,  ib.  Its  rapid  decline  in  the  sixth  century, 
ib.  The  Church  an  asylum  for,  26.  Profane 
learning  obnoxious  to  the  Christian  priesthood, 
ib.  Their  influence  in  the  preservation  of,  ib. 
Clerical  education  revived  in  the  monasteries  of 
Ireland,  27.  Classical  learning  revived  at  York 
and  in  the  Anglo-Saxon  Church,  ib.  Cathedral 
or  conventual  schools  established  under  Charle- 
magne, ib.  Its  progress  in  the  tenth  century,  28 
Modern  languages  forming  only  a  colloquial  jar- 
gon, ill  conveyed  either  grace  or  sentnn 
the  poetry,. 29.  Circumstances  that  led  to  tlie, 
revival  of,  30.  Universities,  investigation  of  Ro- 
man law,  study  of  pure  Latin,  ib.  In  the  fifteenth 
century,  131.  Account  of  the  progress  of  polite 
learning,  arts,  and  sciences,  261  ;  ii.,  70,  272,  et 
passim.  Decline  cf,  i.,  255,  259,  261  ;  ii.,  13,  et 
passim. 

Lebrixa,  Spanish  commentator,  i.,  106,  171. 

Lee,  dramatic  works  of,  ii.,  396. 

Leeuwenhoek,  anatomist,  ii.,  430. 

Lefevre.     See  Faber. 

Legislative  authority,  on,  ii.,  360,  361. 

Leibnitz,  observations  of,  i.,  171  ;  ii.,  86,  103,  331. 
His  correspondence  with  Bossuet  on  an  agree- 
ment in  religion,  282,  283.     "  On  Roman   Law,' 
365.     Preface  to  that  work,  i.,  297  ;  n  ,  420. 
Protogaea,  429. 

Leigh's  Critic  a  Sacra,  ii.,  54. 

Leipsic  press,  the,  i.,  131.  The  Leipsic  Acts,  n., 
408. 

Lemene,  Italian  poet,  ii.,  36 

Lemery,  his  Cours  de  Chymie,  ii ,  42 
Lenses,  on,  ii.,  256.    Curves  of,  ib. 
Leo  Africanus,  i.,  406. 

X  ,  the  patron  of  the  literati  of  his  age,  i.,  148, 

162,  174,  225,  244.    His  authority  attacked  by 
Luther,  163. 

Leon,  Fra  Luis  Poncy  de,  i.,  33 
Leonard  of  Pisa,  i.,  235,  392. 
Leonicenus,  Nicolas,  physician,  i.,  23 


Leonine  rhymes,  i.,  59. 

Lepidus  ^medy  attributed  to,  i.,  126.   Other  works 
of,  ib. 

Lermim.?,,  "Hist.  Gen.  du  Droit"  by,  i.,  321,  n. 

L'Estranpe,  Sir  Roger,  ii.,  410. 

Leslie,  tr.p  "  Short  Method  with  the  Deists,"  ii.,292. 

Lessius,  the  Jesuit,  ii.,  284. 

Leunclavius,  his  version  of  Xenophon,  i.,  248. 

Levasseur,  acquainted  with  the  circulation  of  the 
blood,  i.,  239  ;  ii..  259,  n. 

Levita,  F,lias,  i.,  241. 

Lexicons,  i ,  128,  &c.     See  Dictionaries. 

Leyden,  University  of,  i.,  409.     The  Professors,  ii., 
265.     The  Library,  i.,  410  ;  ii.,  265,  268,  306. 

Libanius,  copied  by  Ben  Jonson,  ii.,  206. 

Liberty,  civil,  ii.,  :;59. 

,  natural,  ii.,  136. 

Libraries,  public,  university,  and  private,  i.,  61, 106, 
174,  244,  410,  411  ;  ii.,  265,  267,  26*. 

Library,  Royal,  founded  at  Paris  by  Charles  V.,  I. 
61. 

Liburnio,  his  Volga ri  Eleganzie,  i.,  232. 

Licet o,  Fortunio,  ii ,  61. 

Lightfoot,  Biblical  works  of,  ii.,  54. 

Lilius,  mathematician,  i.,  396. 

Lilly,  i ,  371.     His  "  Euphues,"  380,  382. 

Limborch,  an  Arminian  divine,  ii.,  2^6,  292. 

Linacre,  eminent  English  physician,  i.,  133, 182,237. 

Linnaeus,  his  classification  of  animals,  i.,  399  ;  ii., 
257,  424.     His  Critica  Botanic: 

Lipsius,  Justus,  on  the  Roman  military  system,  i., 
268.    On  Roman antiquil  rnceof,248. 

His  style,  256,  259,  n. ;  ii.,  13,  20.  He  renounces 
the  Protestant  creed,  i.,  283.  The  "  Politica"  of, 
311. 

Lisle,  De,  his  map  of  the  world,  ii.,  432. 

Lister,  Dr.,  his   Synopsis  conchy liorum,  ii.,  424. 
On  Botany,  428.     On  Geology,  429. 

LITERATURK  OF  EUROPE,  want  of  taste  in  the  tenth 
and  succeeding  centuries,  i.,  28.     Modern  lan- 
guages, 33,  ct  p'tsaim.     Prioress  of  philnlo 
Latin  and  Greek  studies,  ^U,  245,  246,  255,  261, 
et  passim.     The  seventeenth  century,  ii.,  13,  69, 
399.     Of  Italy,  163,  367.     Of  Fran, 
throughout  the  two  volumes.     Of  < 
29,  ION,  131,220, 

et  passim.     History  of  English  literature. 
265,  &c. ;  ii.,  174,  197,  i.  .Sec.    Of 

Holland,  L,  200;  ii.,  17,  17:!,  :  >  icient 

••urc  in  the  seventeenth 

The  revival  of  letters,  and  occasional  decline  of, 
passim.  Its  salutary  influence  on  the  pubi  . 
considerable  under  Elizabeth,  i.,  414.  Checked 
by  the  prohibition  of  hooks  and  presses,  413. 
Early  reviews  and  their  editors,  ii.,  406-409 
SEE  NAMES  OF  LEARNED  MEN  TH  ROUGIIOUT  THIS 
INDEX. 

Liturgy,  Anglican,  by  Whitaker,  i.,  2(3.'!. 

Livy,  his  History,  i.,  267.     Commentary  on,  268. 

Lobel,  the  '•  Stirpium  adversaria"  of,  i.,  402. 

>-o  de,  his  Amadis  de  Gaul,i.,  168;  iL, 
834. 

Loci  Communes  or  theological  systems,  i.,  287. 

TheolGi! 

Locke,  John,  his  philosophy,  ii.,  97,  2^9.  305,  n  , 
317.     His  -  Letter  on  Toler;- 
He  did  not  burro--  'I  is  ori- 

gin;,; Human  Un- 

der*' 'Con- 

duct  ofthe  '••  3-1'-'-    Mer" 

its  of  his  "  ,  :i49-    Iti  de- 

fects,  350  Ol)- 

'  364. 
:(62.    Observations  on  his  style,  412. 

Lodbroi.'.  Jj-  ~°- 

Lodge,  poems  by,  i.,  :!!?,  :!~' 

Logarithms,  invention  of,  ii ,  240. 


450 


INDEX. 


Logic,  the  Parisian  school  of,  i.,  31.  Treatise  on, 
ii.,  61,  &c.  The  Aristotelian  method,}., 298;  ii , 
299.  Descartes's  Logic,  92,  100.  Of  Gassendi, 
302,  304,  307.  Hobbes's,  117.  Of  Jean  Silvain 
Regis,  307.  The  Port  Royal  "  Art  de  Periser," 
299,  307,  308,  309,  333.  Locke's,  328,  et.  seq. 
Aconico's  "  de  Methodo,"  &c.,  i.,  297.  Of  Ra- 
mus,  298;  ii.,  50.  Of  Bacon,  77,  83,  85.  Of 
Wallis,  299. 

Logos,  the  Trinitarian  controversy,  ii.,  289. 

Lohenstein,  imitator  of  Ovid,  ii.,  372. 

London,  publishers  of  literary  works  in,  in  the  reign 
of  Elizabeth.  The  press  prohibited  excepting 
only  in  London,  Oxford,  and  Cambridge,  i.,  413. 

Longinus,  translation  by  Boileau  of,  ii.,  406. 

Longolius,  Latin  scholar,  i ,  175  ;  ii.,  21. 

Longomontanus,  scientific  writings  of,  i.,  396. 

Lord's  Prayer,  the,  i.,  406. 

Lotichius,  German  poet  in  Latin,  i.,  356. 

Louis  XIII.,  ii.,  127,  171. 

XIV.,  ii.,  273,  293.  His  dispute  with  Inno- 
cent XI.,  279.  His  reigri,  357,  382.  Poets  and 
literati  of  his  age,  127, 193,  369,  381,  399,  402,  et 
passim. 

Lovelace,  ii.,  182,  372. 

Lower,  chirurgical  researches  of,  ii.,  430. 

Loyola,  Ignatius,  i.,  177.  Founder  of  the  order,  of 
Jesuits,  196,  274  ;  ii.,  121. 

Lucan,  his  Pharsalia,  i.,  106;  ii.,  372,  373,  404. 

Lucian,  ii.,  414,  415. 

Lulli,  musical  Composer,  ii.,  393. 

Lully,  Raymond,  his  new  Method  of  Reasoning,  i., 
171. 

Luther,  Martin,  his  thesis  as  to  Indulgences  and 
Purgatory,  i.,  163.  .Popularity  of,  ib.  Account 
of  his  tenets,  164.  Explanation  of  his  doctrines, 
165,  &c.,  285  ;  ii.,  41.  His  writings,  i.,  165,  n., 
287.  Satire  on,  228.  Antiriomian  extravagances 
of,  187.  His  controversy  with  Erasmus,  190. 
Their  increasing  dislike,  191  Life  of,  255.  His 
preaching,  ii.,  55.  Confession  of  Augsburg,  i., 
188,  271,  &c.  His  character,  197.  Not  intoler- 
ant, 281.  His  hymns,  197.  His  critical  opinions, 
ii ,  263,  n.  Lutheran  principles  of  the  Italian 
writers,  i.,  194.  Of  the  Germans,  ii.,  282. 

Lutheran  Churches,  ii.,  54,  56. 

Lutherans.     See  Reformation. 

Lycophron,  Cassandra  of,  ii.,  170. 

Lycosthenes,  Conrad,  i.,  412. 

Lydgate,  his  poems,  i.,  170,  222,  223. 

Lydiat,  Chronology  of,  ii.,  24. 

Lyon,  Mr.,  i.,  263. 

Lyndsay,  David,  merit  of  his  poems,  i.,  221. 

Lyric  poetry,  i.,  332,  n. ;  ii.,  165,  371,  tt  passim. 

Lysias,  Athenian  orator,  i.,  264. 

MABILLON,  i.,  51. 

Macaronic  poetry,  i.,  333. 

M'Crie,  Dr.,  History  of  the  Reformation  by,  i.,  195, 
n.,  196,  n. 

M'Cullock,  Mr.,  observations  of,  ii.,  363,  n. 

Machiavel,  Nicolas,  his  writings  in  political  philos- 
ophy published  posthumously,  i.,  211.  His  trea- 
tise of  the  Prince,  211,  304.  He  was  secretary 
of  government  at  Florence,  211.  He  sought  the 
patronage  of  Julian  de'  Medici,  ib.  Probable  in- 
fluences that  governed  him,  ib.  His  motives,-21 1 , 
212.  His  maxims  not  so  immoral  as  has  been  al- 
leged, 212.  Some  of  them  perilous  to  society,  ib. 
Palliation  of  the  doctrines  in  his  "  Prince,"  ib. 
His  Discourses  on  Livy,  213.  Leading  principles 
of,  ib.  Permanence,  the  object  of  his  system  of 
government,  ib.  Influence  of  his  writings,  ib. 
His  History  of  Florence,  its  luminous  develop- 
ment, 214.  His  dramas,  146.  His  "  Mandrago- 
la"  and  "  Chtia,"  comedies,  225, 377.  His  "  Bel- 
phegor,"  230.  His  History,  242.  Comparison  of 


Bodin's  "  Republic"  with,  320.    Of  Baron  wild, 

ii.,  128.    His  taste  and  diction,  i.,  377,  414.    The 

"  Golden  Ass"  from  Apuleius,  377. 
Macintosh,  Sir  James,  quoted,  ii.,  162,  344. 
Mackenzie,  Sir  George,  Essays  of,  ii.,  413. 
Madden,  Sir  Frederic,  i.,  372,  n. 
Madness,  Hobbes  on,  ii.,  115. 
Mastlin,  mathematician,  i.,  395. 
Maffei,  History  of  India  by,  i.,  407. 
Magalotti,  letters  of,  ii.,  399. 
Magdelenet,  French  lyric  poet,  ii.,  184,  n. 
Magellan,  circumnavigator,  i.,  242,  407. 
Magic,  writers  on,  ii.,  65. 
Maggi,  poems  of,  ii.,  368. 
Magnen,  theories  of,  ii.,  64. 
Magnetism,  medical,  ii.,  263. 

,  terrestrial,  i.,  398. 

Maintenon,  Madame  de,  ii.,  387. 

Mairet,  dramatic  author,  ii.,  193.     His  "  Sophoms- 

be,"  196. 

Maittaire,  his  Life  of  Henry  Stephens,  i.,  249,  n. 
Malala,  John,  Chronicle  of,  ii.,  276. 
Maldonat,  his  Commentary  on  the  Evangelists,  i., 

287. 
Malherbe,  accurate  French  versifier,  ii.,  170.     His 

gallantry,  ib. 
Malebranche,  ii.,  91.    His  "  Traite  de  la  nature  et 

la  grace,"  285, 286,  306.     "  Lettres  du  pere  Male- 
branche," 286.     His  "  Recherche  de  la  VeriteY* 

309-316.      His  style,  309.     His   character,  31& 

Compared  with  Pascal,  ib. 
Malleville,  French  poet,  ii.,  171. 
Mallory's  "  La  Morte  d'Arthur,"  i.,  391. 
Malone's  Shakspeare,  i.,  372,  n.,  373  ;  ii.,205,  410,  n. 
Malpighi,  botanical  works  of,  ii.,  427,  428. 
"  Mamb-riano,"  poem  of  Francesco  Bello,  i.,  131. 
Man,  natural  history  of,  ii.,  257,  262.     His  state, 

76,  136,  291 ,  339.     His  soul,  95,  96,  303,  304,  331. 

(See  Philosophy.)   Human  nature,  291,  et  passim, 

Metaphysical  inquiry  regarding,  i.,  291  ;  ii.,  288. 

See  names  of  metaphysicians  in  Index. 
Mancini,  Hortense,  ii.,  401. 
Mandeville,  Sir  John,  the  Travels  of,  i.,  148. 
Manfredi,  his  "  Semiramis,"  i.,  359. 
Manley,  Mrs  ,  ii.,  419,  n. 
Manners,  on,  ii.,  116. 
Mantuan,  Baptista,  Latin  poet,  i,  129. 
Manuscripts,  wilful  destruction  of,  .i.,  261,  n.    At 

Leyden,  ii.,  265.    In  the   Bodleian  library,  ib. 

Chinese  MSS.,  ib.     See  also  i.,  106. 
Manutius,  Aldus,  i.,  128,  260.     See  Aldus. 

,  the  younger,  i.,  126. 

— ,  Paulus  [Paolo  Manuzio],  works  of  this 

eminent  scholar,  i.,  175,  180,  248,  256,  258,  378  ; 

ii.,  20. 

Manzolli,  his  Zodiacus  Vitse,  i.,  194. 
Maphseus,  i.,  115,  258,  383  ;  ii.,  22. 
Maps,  geographical,  a  criterion  of  progress  in  the 

science,  ii.,  266.    Early  charts,  i.,  113,  241,  407, 

408 ;  ii.,  432. 

Marana,  John  Paul,  ii.,  418,  419. 
Maranta  on  medicinal  plants,  i.,  401. 
Marbles,  sculptures,  and  bronzes, 

Arundelian  marbles,  ii.,  23. 
Marcgraf,  his  Natural  History  of  Brazil,  ii.,  256, 

257. 

Marco  Polo,  Travels  of,  i.,  148,  407. 
Marculfus,  grammatical  rules  of,  i.,  35. 
Mariana,  "  de  Rege,"  i.,  309  ;  ii.,  13].    History  of 

Spain  by,  i.,  409. 
Marini,  Giovanni  Battista,  bad  taste  of  his  school, 

ii.,  163,  176,  185,  367.    His  Adone,  164.     Story 

of  Psyche,  165. 
Marlianus  on  the  Topography  of  ancient  Rome,  i., 

176,  266.     His  "  Fasti  consulares,"  177. 
Marlowe,  plays  of,  ii.,  197.     Song  by,  i.,  347.     Hi» 
Hero  and  Leander,"  from  Mussus,  350.   "  Tarn- 


410.     The 


INDEX. 


burlaine,"  368.    «  Jew  of  Malta,"  369.    "  Me- 
phistopheles,1'  ib.     "  Edward  II.,"  ib. 

Marot,  Clement,  simplicity  of  his  style,  or  naivete, 
i.,  220;  ii,  171,369. 

Marracci's  Koran,  ii.,  432. 

Marriage,  on,  ii.,  146. 

Mars,  the  planet,  ii.,  247. 

Marsham,  Sir  John,  his  "  Canon  chronicus  -lEgyp- 
tiacus,"  ii.,  278. 

Marston,  satires  by,  i.,  349.  Dramatic  works  of,  ii., 
218. 

Martial  d'Auvergne,  his  Vigiles  de  la  mort  de 
Charles  VII.,  i.,  122. 

Manillas,  Latin  poems  of,  i.,  129,  383. 

Marvell,  Andrew,  ii.,  378,  380. 

Mary  I.  of  England,  her  reign  unfavourable  to  learn- 
ing, i.,  261,  307,  310,  379. 

,  queen  of  Scots,  i.,  307,  310,  342. 

Masius,  i.,  405. 

Massa  of  Venice,  anatomist,  i.,  239. 

Massinger,  Philip,  his  "  Virgin  Martyr,"  ii.,  214. 
General  nature  of  his  dramas,  ib.  His  delinea- 
tions of  character,  ib.  His  subjects,  215.  Beau- 
ty of  his  style,  ib.  His  comic  talent,  ib.  His  tra- 
gedies, ib.  His  other  plays,  216.  His  character 
of  Sir  Giles  Overreach,  215,  216.  Critique  on, 
216,  390. 

Materia  Medica,  i.,  401. 

Mathematical  and  Physical  Sciences,  the,  i.,  77, 98, 
234,391.  Mathematical  propositions,  ii.,  124,240. 
De  Augrnentis  Scientiarum  of  Lord  Bacon,  70, 
87,  &c.  Mathematics  of  Descartes,  102,  &c. 
Mathematicians,  419. 

Matthew  Paris,  i.,  124. 

Matthix,  Preface  to  his  Greek  Grammar,  i ,  252,  n. 

Matthioli,  his  botanical  "  Commentaries  oa  Dios- 
corides,"  i..  240. 

Maurice,  elector  of  Saxony,  i.,  278. 

Maurolycus,  geometrician,  i.,  395.     Optics  by,  397. 

Maxims,  ii.,  348. 

May,  supplement  to  Lucan  by,  ii.,  187.  History  of 
the  Parliament  by,  231. 

Maynard,  elegance  of  his  French  poetry,  ii.,  171. 

Ma'yow,  Essays  of,  ii.,  422.    On  Respiration,  430. 

Mazarin,  Cardinal,  ii.,  393. 

Mazarin  Bible,  the,  i.,  96,  97.     Its  beauty,  96. 

Mazochius,  his  Inscriptions,  i.,  177. 

Mazzoni,  his  treatise  de  triplici  Vita,  i.,  303,  38 

Mechanics,  laws  of,  ii.,  251.  Of  Descartes,  252. 
Writers  on,  i.,  397. 

Meckerlin,  German  poet,  ii.,  172. 

Medals,  authors  on,  i.,  269 ;  ii.,  278.  Collections 
of  gems  and,  i.,  410. 

Mede  on  the  Apocalypse,  ii.,  54. 

Medici,  Cosmo  de',  i.,  94,  385.  His  rule  arbitrary 
and  jealous,  411,  413. 

,  Lorenzo  de,'  i.,  99,  100,  107,  108,  113,  115, 

117,239. 

,  house  of,  i.,  106, 360, 402.    Their  expulsion 

from  Florence,  129. 

Medicine,  revival  of  therapeutical  science,  i.,  23 
The  Greeks  the  best  teachers  of,  ib.  Progress 
towards  accurate  investigation,  404.  Valves  of 
the  veins  discovered,  ii. ,  259.  The  circulation  of 
the  blood,  259,  430.  Transfusion  of  the  blood, 
430  Novel  medical  theories,  431. 

Medicis,  Mane  de,  i.,  361 ;  ii.,  170. 

"  Meditations  of  Descartes,"  ii.,  91,  et  seq.  Objec- 
tions by  Hobbes,  Arnaud,  &c.,  to,  94. 

Megiser,  i.,  406. 

Menus,  on  the  Florentine  literati,  i.,  63.  His  Lile 
of  Traversari,  68. 

Meigret,  Louis,  the  Orthography  of,  i.,  23 

Meiners,  Comparison  of  the  Middle  Ages  by,  i.,  31, 
62,  63,  n.  His  Life  of  Hutten,  1 62,  ii. 

Meister-singers  of  Germany,  ii.,  172. 
singers  of,  i ,  42,  43. 


Melanchthon,  the  Reformer,  i ,  141,  145,  179 ;  jj.? 
55.  A  promoter  of  learning,  i.,  181  ;  ii.,  60.  'His 
advice  to  Luther,  i.,  188,  n.  His  "  Loci  Com- 
munes," 165,  n.,  190,  287.  Character  of  that 
work,  193.  n.  Translation  of,  ib.  His  "  Moralie 
Philosophia)  epitome,"  210  Style  of  his  works, 
254.  His  tenets,  278.  His  adversaries,  ib. 
Chronicle  by,  '<M:2. 

Melanges  de  Litterature,  by  d'Argonne,  ii.,  409. 

Melcliior,  Adam,  i.,  255,  n.    References  to,  passim. 

Melville,  Andrew,  i.,  265,  299,  357. 

Memoirs,  political,  i.,  311. 

,  French,  i.,  40'J  ;  ii.,  433. 

Memory,  the,  ii.,  95. 

Mena,  Juan  de  la,  i.,  146,  385. 

,  Christopher  de  la,  ii.,  168. 

Menage,  Latin  poems  of,  ii.,  381,  414.  On  the 
French  language,  402,  407.  "  Menagiana,"  409. 

Mendicant  Friars,  their  disputations  promoted  scho- 
lastic philosophy,  i.,  32.  Their  contention  with 
Reuchlin,  162. 

Mendoza,  Diego,  Spanish  poet  and  statesman,  i., 
219;  ii.,  167.  His  Lazarillo  de  Tormes,  ).,230, 
336. 

,  his  History  of  the  War  of  Granada,  ii.^ 

2C7.     History  of  China  by,  i.,  407. 

"  Menina  e  Moc,a,"  early  Portuguese  romance  in 
prose,  i  ,220. 

Menochius  de  prasumptionibus,  ii.,  141. 

Menzini,  Benedetto,  ii.,  368. 

"  Mephistopheles"  of  Marlowe,  i.,  369. 

Mercator,  Gerard,  his  charts,  i.,  408. 

Merchant  Taylor's  school,  statutes  of,  i.,  263. 

Mercure,  Galant,  the,  by  Vise,  ii.,  407. 

Mercury,  transits  of,  ii.,  251. 

Meres,  "  Wit's  Treasury"  of,  i.,  372,  n.,  376,  n. 

Mermaid  Club,  account  of  the,  ii.,  205. 

Mersenne,  works  of,  ii.,  243.  Writes  against  De«- 
cartes,  94. 

Messiah,  prophecies  relating  to  the,  ii.,  29?. 

Metaphysics.     See  Philosophy. 

Metastasio,  style  of,  i.,  360. 

Metius  of  Alkmaer,  ii.,  254. 

Meton,  Athenian  astronomer,  his  lunar  cycle,  i.,  270. 

Metre  and  rhythm,  on,  i.,  38. 

Meursius,  writings  of,  ii.,  277.  On  Grecian  antiqui- 
ties, 23. 

Mezeray,  his  Histoire  de  France,  ii.,  266. 

Michael  Angelo,  ii.,  330,  n. 

Micheli,  Venetian  ambassador,  i.,  271. 

Mickle's  translation  of  the  "  Lusiad"  of  Camoen*, 
i ,  339. 

Microscope,  the,  ii  ,255,  430. 

Micyllus,  "  de  re  metric/I,"  i.,  182. 

Middle  Ages,  eminent  scholars  of  the,  i.,  30.  Liter- 
ature of  the,  passim. 

Middleton,  plays  of,  ii.,  218. 

Millington,  Sir  Thomas,  ii.,  427. 

Milner,  Isaac,  i ,  164. 

Milton,  John,  "  Paradise  Regained"  of,  i.,  13  ;  IL, 
182,  376,  377.  His  Comus,  183.  "  Lycidas,"  ib. 
The  "  Allegro"  and  "  II  Penseroso,"  ib.  "  Ode 
on  the  Nativity,"  184.  His  "  Sonnets,"  i.,  330; 
ii ,  184.  His  feeling  of  antiquity  genuine,  176. 
HisLiflin  poems,  187,383.  His  controversy  with 
Salmasius,  19.  His  "  Paradise  Lost,"  186.373. 
The  polemical  writings  of,  231,  288.  His  Trac- 
tate on  Education,  349.  Imitates  the  Greek  tra- 
gedians, 374,  377.  Elevation  rf  his  style,  375. 
His  blindness,  376.  His  passion  for  music,  it.. 
His  celebrity,  ib.  Critique  on,  376,  377.  Sam- 
son Agonistes,  377. 

Mind,  the  human,  ii.,  321,  323.    See  Philosophy. 
,  Spinosa  on  the,  ii.,  321. 

Mineralogy  of  England,  ii.,  429. 

Miranda,  Saa  di,  Portuguese  poet,  i.,  219. 

"  Mirrour  of  M agistrates,"  the,  i.,  345. 


452 


INDEX. 


Misogonus,  an  early  comedy,  i.,  367. 

Mitsclierlich,  ii.,  80. 

Modena,  academy  of,  i.,  195,  384.  Allusions  to  the 
history  of,  ii.,  165,  166. 

Molanus,  Gern.an  controvertist,  ii.,  292. 

Moliere,  his  genius  and  dramatic  works,  i.,  366, 377, 
n.  ;  ii.,  382.  His  L'Avare,  389.  L'Kcole  des 
Femmes.ib.  Le  Misanthrope,  390.  Les  Femmes 
Savantes,  ib.  Tartuffe,  ib.  Bourgeois  Gentil- 
homme,  391.  George  Dandin,  ib.  Character  of 
nis  works,  391,  414. 

Molina,  his  treatise  on  Free-will,  i.,  279.  His  Semi- 
Pelagian  doctrine  censured,  279,  n.  ;  ii.,  43.  His 
tenets,  284. 

Molza,  Italian  poet,  i ,  217.     His  Latin  poetry,  225. 

"  Monarchia  Solipsorum,"  a  satire  on  the  Jesuits, 
ii.,238. 

Monasteries  suppressed  at  the  Reformation,  i.,  187. 

Money  and  Coin,  on,  ii.,  347,  364.  Monetary  wri- 
tings, 134. 

Monk,  bishop  of  Gloucester,  ii.,  275.  His  Life  of 
Bentley,  276,  286,  n.,  414,  n. 

Monks  attacked  by  Erasmus,  i.,  161.  Despised  in 
Germany  and  Switzerland,  166.  Various  reli- 
gious orders,  58. 

Monstrelet,  i.,  136. 

Montagu,  Mrs.,  her  Essay,  ii.,  205. 

Montaigne,  his  Essays,  i.,  301,  379.  Their  charac- 
teristics, 301.  His  sprightly  and  rapid  thoughts, 
ib.  His  independent  spirit,  ib.  He  borrowed 
from  antiquity,  302.  His  critical  opinions,  ib. 
His  good  sense,  ib.  His  moral  skepticism,  ib. 
By  what  authors  criticised,  303.  The  charm  of 
his  simplicity  rendered  his  writings  popular,  303, 
414.  Allusions  to,  289  ;  ii.,  126,  127,  290,  349, 
410,  411. 

Montanus,  Arias,  i.,  290.  The  Antwerp  Polyglot 
by,  405. 

Monteinayor,  the  "  Diana"  of,  i.,  338,  389. 

Montesquieu,  the  "  Grandeur  et  Decadence"  of,  ii., 
132.  "L'Esprit  des  Loix,"  142.  See  also  i., 
320  ;  ii.,  399.  His  "  Usbek,"  418. 

Montfaucon,  references  to  his  authority,  i.,  50. 

Montluc,  memoirs  of,  i.,  409. 

Montpelier,  school  of  medicine  at,  i.,  33.  Botanical 
garden  of,  402. 

Montucla,  quoted,  i.,  234,  235,  392,  395,  398.  On 
Indivisibles,  ii.,  243,  n.  Observations  on  Geome- 
tricians, 243,  244,  n.,  255. 

Moon,  the,  ii.,  413. 

Moors  of  Spain,  Conde's  History  of  the,  i.,  390. 
Moorish,  romances,  134 ;  ii.,  167,  n.  See  Ro- 
mance. 

Moral  Philosophy,  writers  on,  ii.,  335,  337. 

Moralities,  dramatic,  i.,  227. 

Morals,  Italian  writers  on,  i.,  303.  See  Philosophy, 
moral,  Jesuitical  Scheme  of  lax  and  false,  ii.,  121. 

More,  Henry,  on  Witchcraft,  ii.,  298.  His  meta- 
physical philosophy,  95,  n.,  302,  317. 

,  Sir  Thomas,  i ,  134,  188.  History  of  Ed- 
ward V.  by,  170,  232.  His  Utopia,  154. 

Morel,  Johnj  his  Lexicon,  i ,  263. 

Morgante  Maggiore  of  Pulci,  i.,  116;  ii.,  165 

Morhof,  quotations  from  his  Polyhistor,  i.,172, 181, 
252,  n.,  253,  291  ;  ii.,  60,  363,  409. 

Morin,  Protestant  theologian,  ii ,  264. 

Morison,  Dr.,  professor  of  botany,  ii.,  425.  His 
works,  ib. 

Mornay,  Du  Plessis,  i.,  283  ;  ii.,  28,  31,  n. 

Mosellanus,  Petrus,  i.,  188. 

Moses,  the  Pentateuch,  ii.,  290.  Mosaic  history  of 
the  Deluge,  &c.,  428.  Institutions,  431 . 

Mosheim,  his  "  Ecclesiastical  History,"  i.,  165,284, 
288  ;  ii.,  284,  n. 

Mothe  le  Vayer,  La,  his  Dialogues,  ii.,  58, 127, 132, 
227. 

Mouffet,  his  Theatrum  Insectorum,  ii.,  257. 


Moiisset,  Frencn  poet,  i.,  344,  n. 

Mulgrave,  Lord,  his  Essay  on  Poetry,  ii.,  405,  ft. 

's  poems,  ii.,  378,  380. 

Mun,  Thomas,  on  Foreign  trade,  ii.,  363. 

Munday,  translator  of  Amadis  de  Gaul,  i.,  168, 39J 

Mundinus,  anatomical  works  of,  i.,  238. 

Munster,  Sebastian,  i.,  242. 

,  German  schools  at,  i.,  132. 

Murat,  Madame,  novels  of,  ii.,  416. 

Muratori,  Dissertations,  &c.,  of,  quoted,  i.,  34,  52, 
100,  328,  330.  Delia  Perfetta  Poesia,  ii.,  163,  n., 
164,  n. 

Muretus,  Marc  Antony,  great  utility  of  Varia?.  Lec- 
tiones,  i.,  247.  His  editor  Ruhnkenius  of  Ley- 
den,  ib.  Diversity  of  his  subjects,  ib.,  n.  Ora- 
tions of,  257.  His  Latin  style,  257,  356.  On  the 
massacre  of  St.  Bartholomew's,  257,  n. 

Musaeus,  editions  of,  i.,  128,  383. 

Musculus,  theological  writer,  i.,  288. 

Music,  church,  i,  360,  n.  Operatic,  361.  The 
melodrame,  ib. 

Musurus,  Marcus,  i.,  128,  148. 

Mysteries,  dramatic,  their  origin,  i.,  123.  Of  France, 
227,365.  Of  England,  J  24.  Of  Germany,  ib. 

Mysticism,  ii.,  64. 

Mythology,  writers  on,  i.,  269. 

NAHARRO,  Torres,  Spanish  comedies  of,  i.,  226. 

Names,  on,  ii.,  107,  108,  109. 

Nantes,  Edict  of,  i.,  283  ;  ii.,  48.     Revocation  of 

the  edict  of,  281,293. 

Nanteuil,  epigram  on  a  portrait  by,  ii.,  237,  n. 
Napier,  John,  of  Merchiston,  his  invention  of  loga- 
rithms, ii.,  240.     His  tables,  241. 
Naples,  Academy  of  men  of  learning  at,  i.,  130. 
Nardim,  works  of,  ii.,23     "  Roma  Antica"  of,  277. 
Nash,  dramatic  author,  i.,  368,  n.,  371,  382. 
Natalis  Comes,  "  Mythologia"  of,  i.,  245. 
Nations,  rights  of,  ii.,  151,  154.     See  Law. 
Natural  History,  progress  of  the  study  of,  i.,  239  ; 

ii.,  256,  423.    Gesner's  works  on,  i.,  399. 
Nature,  law  of,  ii.,  338,  341,  344.     Phenomena,  81 .  r 

Laws  of,  136,  137. 
Naude,  Gabriel,  his  Considerations  sur  les  coups 

d'etat,  ii.,  132.     His  >'  Naudeeana,"  i.,292  ;  ii.,  58, 

61,  409. 

Naugerius,  Latin  poet,  L,  225. 
Navarre,  Queen  of,  "  Histoire  des  Amans  fortun6s," 

i.,  388. 
Neander,  Micbael,  grammarian,  i.,  254.     Erote- 

mata  Ling.  Hebraeas  of,  405. 
Newton,  Sir  Isaac,  works  of,  ii.,  86,  255,  422.    Hie 

Principia,  331.     Definition  of  Algebra  by,  i.,  394. 

The  Newtonian  system,  ii.,  251,  419.    His  dis- 
coveries in  chymistry,  422. 
Netherlands,  persecution  of  Protestants  in  the,  i., 

196. 

Nicene  faith,  the,  ii.,  288. 
Niceron,  le  P&re,  Biographical  works  of,  i.,  174,  n., 

250,  n.,  304,  n. 
Nicholas  V.,  a  patron  of  learning,  i.,91.     Character 

of,  ib.     "  Letters  of  indulgence"  by,  96,  n. 
Nicole,  Essais  de  Morale,  &c.,  of,  ii.,  281,  285,308, 

337. 
Niebuhr  on  the  antiquities  of  Rome,  i.,  266.    His 

History  quoted,  ib.,  n. 
Nile,  the  river,  i.,  408. 
Nizolius,  Marius,  lexicographer, L,  176;  ii.,21.    His 

principles  of  philosophy,  i.,  297,  298,  n. 
Noah,  Seven  Precepts  of  the  sons  of,  ii.,  126. 
Nominalists,  the,  i.,33.    Nominalism,  its  character, 

33,  110;  ii.,  60,  118. 
Noodt,  Gerard,  on  Usury,  ii.,  366. 
Norris,  Essay  on  the  Ideal  World  by,  ii.,  317. 
North  Sea,  the,  i.,  407. 
"  Nosce  Teipsum,"  poem  by  Sir  John  Davies,  ii 

349  ;  ii.,  175. 


INDEX. 


Nott,  Dr.,  Ins  character  of  the  poets  Surrey  and 

Wyatt,  i.,  221,  223. 
Noue,  La,  "  Discours"  of,  i.,  311. 
Novels,  Italian,  i.,  229, 388.    Spanish,  388.    French, 

122,  389;  ii.,  415. 

Nowell,  master  of  Westminster  school,  i.,  182,  284. 
IS7umismatics,  on,  i.,  269,  410  ;  ii.,  278. 
Nunez  or  Pincianus,  i.,  180.    His  Greek  grammar, 

252. 
"  Nut-brown  Maid,"  the,  i.,  170. 

OATH  of  allegiance,  ii.,  26. 

Oaths,  on,  ii.,  121.    Promissary,  149. 

Obedience,  passive,  i,  308;  ii.,  46,  131,  133.  Re- 
sistance by  subjects  unlawful,  144. 

Ochino,  Bernard,  i.,  195. 

Ockham,  William,  i.,  3:!,  110,  111  ;  ii.,  124,  125. 

Ockland,  the  Anglorum  Praelia  by,  i.,  358. 

Odyssey,  the,  ii.,  418. 

CEcolampadius,  reformer,  i.,  151, 164, 188, 191,  255. 

Olaus  Magnus,  i.,  400. 

Oldenburg,  editor  of  the  Philosophical  Transactions, 
&c.,  ii.,  420. 

Oldham,  satire  of,  ii.,  378,  380. 

Olearius,  his  Travels  in  Russia,  ii.,  266. 

Oliva,  Perez  d',  i ,  209. 

Onkelos,  Chaldee  paraphrase  of  the  Pentateuch  by, 
L,  171. 

Ophelia,  Shakspeare's  character  of,  ii.,  210. 

Opitz,  German  lyric  poet,  ii.,  172,  173. 

Oporinus,  printer,  i ,  255.    His  press  prohibited,  4 1 3. 

Optics,  science  of,  i.,  396  ;  ii.,  102,254,262.  Diop- 
trics, science  of,  253,  254. 

Oratory,  Congregation  of  the,  ii.,  297. 

Orfeo,  drama  by  Politian,  i.,  123. 

Oriental  literature  and  languages,  i ,  170,  241,  405  ; 
ii.,  431.  Poetry,  168. 

Orlando  Furioso  of  Ariosto,  i.,  166,  335. 

"  Orlando  Innamorato,"  the,  of  Boiardo,  i.,  130.  Its 
continuation  by  Agostini,  ib.  Some  account  of 
Berni's  poem  of,  194.  Rewritten  by  Berm,  218. 
Domenichi's  alteration  of,  ib. 

Ornithology,  writers  on,  ii.,  256,  423. 

Ortelius,  Theatrum  Orbis  Terrarum  of,  i.,  408. 

Orto,  Decio  da,  i.,  359. 

Osborn's  Advice  to  his  Son,  ii.,  130. 

Osorius,  Bishop,  his  "  de  Gloria,"  i.,  258. 

Otway,  dramatist,  ii.,  380.  His  Venice  Preserved, 
389,  390.  The  Orphan,  396. 

Oughtred,  his  "  Clavis  mathematica,"  ii.,  244,  n. 

Overall,  Bishop,  his  Convocation  Book,  ii.,  358. 

Overbury,  Sir  Thomas,  his  "  Characters,"  ii.,  232. 

Ovid,  imitated  by  Milton  in  his  Latin  poems,  ii., 
187,  374.  His  Metamorphoses,  i ,  168,  333.  See 
alsoii.,  164,  170,372,382,412. 

O'iedo  or  Gonzalo  Hernandez,  his  India,  i.,  242. 

Oxford,  University  of,  i.,  31,  409.     It  created   ii 
own  patrons,  3<i.     Greek  lectures,  160,  n.     The 
University  press,  264.     Lectures  in  Greek  and 
Latin,  132.     Latin  poetry,  ii.,  383.     The  Bodleian 
library,  i.,  410  ;  ii ,  267,  268. 

PADUA,  University  of,  i.,  33, 171,397,411.  School- 
men of.  291;  ii.,  61. 

Pagninus,  version  of  the  Evangile  by,  i.,  290. 

Painters,  the  Bolognese  school,  i.,  336. 

Palearius,  Aonius,  on  the  Immortality  of  the.  Soul, 
i.,  225. 

Palestrma,  church  music  improved  by,  i.,  360. 

Paley,  Dr.,  his  Moral  Philosophy,  n.,  341,  342,  347. 
His  objections  to  Grotius.  15->. 

Palingemus  Stellatus  or  Mair/.olli,  i.,  194,  22 

- -,  his  "  Zodiacus  Vita?,"  i.,  358,  383. 

Paltavicino,  Ferrante,  ii ,  221. 

(  Sforza,  11.,  222. 

"  Palmerin  of  Oliva,"  romance,  i.,  229,  388. 

"  of  England,  i.,  388. 


Palmieri,  the  "  Vita  Civile"  of,  i.,  100. 

Palsgrave's  French  grammar,  i.,  233. 

Pancirollus,  his  "  Notitia  Dignitiitum,"  i.,268. 

Pandolfmi,  his  moral  dialogue,  i.,  100. 

Paniizi,  Mr.,  on  the  Orlando  Innamorato,  i.,  194, n. 
On  the  extemporaneous  comedy,  ii.,  189,  n.  On 
the  "  Amadigi"  of  B.  Tasso,  i.,  332,  n. 

Panvinius,  Onuphrius,  his  learning,  i.,  267.  Da 
civitate  Romana,  ib.  De  Ludis  Cu-censibus,  268. 

Panzer,  Annales  Typographic!,  i.,  99. 

Paper,  its  invention,  i.,  50.  it  superseded  the  pap- 
yri, parchments,  waxen  tablets  and  style,  ib. 
Dato  of  linen  paper  in  controversy,  ib.  Cotton 
paper  preceded  that  from  linen  tag,  ib.  Charters 
and  paper  bulls  on  cotton  paper,  il>.  First  used 
in  the  Greek  empire  in  the  twelfth  century  for 
MSS.,  ib.  In  Italy  in  the  thirteenth,  ib.  Among 
the  Saracens  it  was  of  remoter  antiquity,  ib. 
Called  Charta  Damascene,  being  used  by  Ara- 
bian literati,  ib  Linen  paper  dates  from  A.D. 
1100,  ib.  Of  mixed  materials,  51.  Not  of  rapid 
introduction,  52.  Excellence  of  the  linen  paper 
first  used  for  books  and  printing,  ib. 

Papias,  his  Latin  dictionary,  i  ,  62.  His  acquaint- 
ance with  Greek  classics  proved  by  his  Latin  ver- 
sion of  some  lines  of  Hesiod,  68. 

Pappus,  editions  of,  i.,  395. 

Papyri  employed  for  all  documents  under  Charle- 
magne, i.,  50,  n.  The  Egyptian,  ii.,  271. 

Paracelsus,  his  speculative  philosophy  in  medicine 
described,  i.,  238  ;  ii.,  2C2.  School  of,  1.,  405 ; 
ii.,  64,  69,  430. 

"  Paradise  of  Dainty  Devices,  the,"  i.,  315. 

Paradoxes,  Hobbes's,  ii.,  113.  Of  Sir  Thomaa 
Browne,  129. 

Paraeus,  on  the  Epistle  to  the  Romans,  ii.,  134. 

Parchments,  the  use  of  them  much  superseded  by 
the  invention  of  paper,  i ,  50.  Their  expense,  ib. 
Erasure  of  MSS.  thereon,  for  the  sake  of  new 
writings,  ib.  Monuments  of  learning  and  record 
thereby  lost,  ib.  Restoration  of  some  effected,  ib. 
Law-books  generally  MSS.  on,  52. 

Pare,  Ambroise,  chirurgical  writer,  i ,  404. 

Parental  authority,  ii.,  138,  H6,  358. 

Parfre,  John,  his  mystery  "  Candlemas-Day,"  i , 
227. 

Puns,  University  of,  its  scholastic  philosophy,  i., 
30.  Its  increase,  31,  ISO.  First  Greek  press, 
144, 179.  Its:  repu';e  for  philological  pursuits, 246. 
The  Royal  Library,  410.  Nominalists  of,  111 

Parker,  Archbishop,  i  ,  410,  412 

Parkinson,  Ins  "  Thc-utruin  botanicum."  ii.,  259. 

Parliament,  English,  and  constitution,  ii.,  361. 

Parmenides  on  heal  and  cold,  i  .  2l.i2. 

"  Parnassus,  News  from,"  by  Boccalini,  ii.,  220. 

Parties  in  a  stat3,  i ,  308. 

I'arutM,  Paolo,  '   Dscorsi  politici"  of,  i.,  312. 

P.is.-.il,  his  experiments  on  the  Puy  de  Dome,  il., 
254.  Writi:  1,316.  Ilis-Thm 

290,  317,  333,  ?49.  His  "  Provincial  Letters," 
290,335.  On  Miracles,  290.  On  Geometry,  317. 
His,,  religion,318.  His  acute  obser- 

vation, 31*,  -M'j. 

Pasquier,  i.,  165,  36C.  His  "  Recherches  de  Is 
Fiance,"  386. 

Passavanti,  religious  writer,  i ,  100. 

Passerat,  Latin  poet,  i  .  3.17. 

l';i»ions,  ihe,  11  ,  315,  323.  338.     Analysis  01,  113. 

Pastcn  Letters,  the,  i.,  170. 

Pastoral  romance  described,  i.,  147  ;  11..  236.     1 
try,  i.-  346,  317,  337  ;  n.,  371.     Dramas,  1.,  359  ; 
-.20(3. 

PaMoiini,  sonnet  on  Genoa  by,  n.,  368, 

I'att  rno,  Ludovico,  i 

Putin,  Guv,  ii.,  58,  I- 

Patrizzi,  Francis,  i.,26H.  His  "  Discussiones  Pen- 
pateticas,"  292.  % 


454  INDEX. 

Patru,  forensic  speeches  of,  ii.,  227,  295,  402. 

Paul,  St..  Epistles  of,  ii.,  288. 

II.,  pope,  i.,  100. 

III.,  pope,  establishes  the  Jesuits,  i.,  196. 

Convokes  the  Council  of  Trent,  197,  276,  285. 

IV,  i.,  276,  413. 

V.,  i .,  279,  a.;  ii.,  23,  43.  His  dispute  with 

Venice,  26. 

Peacock,  Mr,  definition  of  algebra  by,  i.,  393,  n. 

Pearson,  Bishop,  on  the  Creed,  ii,  297. 

and  Casaubon,  notes  on  Diogenes  Laertius 

by,  ii.,  275. 

Pecquet,  medical  observations  of,  ii.,  262. 

Peele,  plays  of,  i.,  370. 

Peiresc,  Nicolas,  his  learning,  ii.,  142,  262,  n.,  271. 
His  travels,  271.  His  additions  to  Botany,  ib. 
Scientific  discoveries,  ib.  Literary  zeal  of,  272. 

Pelagian  controversy,  the,  ii.,  284.  The  Semi-Pe- 
lagians, i,  278,  279.  Their  hypothesis,  ii.,  41. 

Pelisson,  his  History  of  the  French  Academy,  ii., 

171,  225. 

Pellegrini,  Camillo,  his  controversy  with  the  Acad- 
emy of  Florence,! ,  131,  n.  His  poems, 328.  His 
dialogue  "  II  Caraff'a,"  385. 

Pelletier,  Algebra  of,  i,  392. 

's  "~Art  of  Poetry,"  i.,  386.  Also  his  ver- 
sion of  Horace,  ib,  n. 

Pellican,  his  religious  tenets,  i,  161.  His  Commen- 
taru  Bibliorum,  241. 

Pembroke,  William,  Earl  of,  ii,  179,  n.,  180,  182. 

Pennant's  British  Zoology,  i,  401. 

Pensees  diverses  sur  la  comete  de  1680,  by  Bayle, 
ii,  408. 

Percy's  Reliques  of  Ancient  poetry,  i,  352. 

Peregrino,  his  writings,  ii.,  222. 

Pereira,  Gornez,  the  Margarita  Antoniana,  i,  293. 

Periers,  Bonaventure  des,  his  "  Cymbalum  mundi," 
i,  289,  n. 

Perizomus,  philological  works  of,  ii,  22,  273. 

Perkins,  Calvinistic  divine,  ii ,  125. 

Perotti,  Cornucopia,  &c,  of,  i.,  115.  Medical 
works  of,  182. 

Perpmianus,  Jesuit  of  Valencia,  i,  258. 

Perrault,  Charles,  his  Parallel  of  the  Ancients  and 
Moderns,  ii,  405,  414.  Tales  by,  416. 

,  Nicolas,  his  "  Morale  des  Jesuites,"  ii., 

336. 

Perron,  Du,  cardinal  and  archbishop  of  Sens,  ii,  28. 
His  talent  and  influence,  28,  31,  n.  "  Perroni- 
ana,"  409. 

Persecution  of  Protestants,  i,  195.  In  Spain,  196 
In  the  Low  Countries,  ib.  Day  of  St.  Bartholo- 
mew, 299,311,319.  By  the  two  Maries,  307, 345. 

Persian  language,  &c.,  the,  i,  406  ;  ii,  265,  432. 

Persons,  Jesuit,  i,  286,  311. 

Perspective,, writers  on  the  science  of,  i ,  397. 

Peruzzi,  i ,  397. 

Petavius,  chronological  works  of  the  Jesuit  Petau, 
i,  270;  ii,  24,  278.  His  Greek,  Hebrew,  and 
Latin  poetry,  184.  His  "  Dogmata  theologica," 
53,  288. 

Peter  Cluniacensis,  his  Treatise  against  the  Jews, 
i,  51.  Explanation  of  his  words  "  ex  rasuris  ve- 
terum  pannorum,"  ib. 

Peter  Lombard,  his  "  Propositions  of  the  Fathers," 
1,  31,  n.  His  "  Liber  Sententiarum,"  68. 

Peter  Martyr,  his  epistles  "  de  rebus  Oceanicis,"  i, 

172,  173,  n  ,  195,  400. 

Petit,  Samuel,  on  the  Athenian  laws,  ii,  24. 

Petrarch,  the  first,  restorer  of  letters,  i,  44,  62.  His 
Latin  style,  62.  His  poem  of  Africa,  63.  His 
"  Eclogues,"  ib.  His  Sonnets  and  Canzones, 
243,330,384.  Remarks  on  his  poetry,  ii.,  221. 
Imitators  of,  i,  329,  384. 

Petty,  Sir  William,  ii..  365,  407. 

Peucer,  son-in-law  of  Melanchthon,  i ,  279. 

Pezron,  his  "  Antiquite  des  temps  devoilee,"  ii,  278. 


Pfeffercom,  a  converted  Jew,  i.,  162. 

Pfintzing,  Melchior,  his  poem  of  "  Theuerdanks," 
i,  221. 

Phaedrus,  Fabulae  of,  ii,  370. 

Phalaris,  epistles  of,  ii,  276. 

Pharsalia,  Lucan's,  ii,  372,  373,  404.  Breboeuf 's, 
404. 

Phavorinus,  his  Etymologicum  Magnum,  i,  177. 

Philip  Augustus,  king  of  France,  i,  31. 

II.  of  Spam,  1,  273,  286,  2S7,  336,  340,  386, 

407,  413. 

III.  of  Spain,  ii,  167. 

IV.  of  Spam,  ii.,  167. 

Philips,  his  Theatrum  Poetarum,  ii,  412. 

Philo,  and  the  Alexandrean  school  of  philosophy,  i, 
119. 

Philology,  progress  of,  i,  244,  &c.  In  Germany, 
255 ;  ii ,  272,  &c.  See  Celebrated  Authors  in 
this  Index. 

Philosophers,  the  modern,  i,  291 ;  ii,  289,299,305, 
306,  307,  318. 

,  the  ancient,  allusions  to,  ii,  74,  300, 

301. 

Philosophise  elements  of  Hobbes,  ii,  117. 

Philosophy,  the  scholastic,  i,  30,  32  ;  ii,  298.  Of 
Bacon,  1,  297;  ii,  59,  289,  299.  Of  Locke  and 
Bayle,  289.  Of  Descartes  and  Gassendi,  239, 298, 
299,305,  306,  n.  See  Desrartes.  Of  Galileo  and 
Kepler,  60.  Nizohus's  "  Principles,"  i,  297.  Of 
Hobbes,  ii,  104-119.  Melanchthon's  "  Philippic 
Method, "60.  Campanula's  theory,  61.  History 
of  speculative  philosophy,  i,  290  ;  ii,  298.  The 
Aristotelian  philosophy,  i,  94,  171,  290,  297,299; 
ii,  29S,  303,  331.  The  Platonists,  i,  94,  117. 119, 
129, 295  ;  ii,  300.  The  Peripatetic  dialectics,  60. 
Scholastic  and  genuine  Aristotelians  distinguish- 
ed, i,  291  ;  ii,  60.  The  Epicurean  school,  102. 
Metaphysical  writers,  59,  287,  288,  298,  el  seq., 
300,  et  seq.,  302.  et  seq.,  309,  et  seq.  Moral  Phi- 
losophy or  Ethics,  i,  299  ;  ii,  1 19,  335,  et  seq., 
338.  Political  Philosophy,  i,  304  ;  ii.,  130,  353. 

Physicians,  College  of,  i,  237. 

PilMc,  lawyer  and  versifier,  i,  343. 

Piccolomini,  Alexander,  his  Moral  Institutions,  i., 
303. 

,  Anatomiae  praelectiones  of,  i,  404. 

Picus  of  Mirandola,  i,  119,  121. 

"  Pietra  del  Paragone"  of  Trajan  Boccalini,  ii,220* 

Pigafetta,  i,  407. 

Pignoria  on  the  Isiac  tablet,  ii,  23. 

"  Pilgrim's  Progress"  of  John  Bunyan,  ii,  417. 

Pinciano's  (Spanish)  '•  Art  of  Poetry,"  i,  386. 

Pindar,  ii,  166.     Italian  translation  of,  ib. 

Pinelli,  Gian  Vincenzio,  literary  reputation  of,  i., 
411. 

Pinzon,  his  voyage  with  Columbus,  i ,  400,  n. 

Pirckheimer,  epistle  of,  to  Melanchthon,  i,  187.  n. 
188. 

Pisa,  School  of,  i,  291.     Siege  of,  409. 

Pitiscus,  mathematician,  i,  395. 

Pius  V.,  bulls  of,  against  Baius,  i,279;  ii..  284, 285. 
Against  Queen  Elizabeth,  i,  286.  His  rigour 
against  the  press,  413. 

Placette,  La,  Essais  de  Morale  of,  ii,  337,  346. 

Plants,  classification  of,  ii,  425.  Distinction  of 
trees  and  shrubs,  426.  On  vegetable  physiology, 
427.  The  anatomy  of,  427,  428.  The  sexual  sys- 
tem of,  427. 

Plato,  ii,  75,  95. 

Platonic  philosophy,  the,  i,  94,  291 ;  ii.,  300. 

Platonism,  the  modern,  i,  94,  117,  119,  129,  295, 
296  ;  ii,  300. 

Plautus,  recovery  of  his  comedies,  i,  64 ;  ii,  13. 
The  Menoechmi,  i,  373;  ii.,  392.  Aululana, 
3S9. 

Playfair,  his  dissertations,  &c,  i,  234,  n,  398  ;  ii., 
79,  80,  252. 


INDEX. 


Pletho,  Gemistus,  i.,  94. 

Plotinns,  philosophy  of,  i.,  295,  n. 

Plutarch,  ii.,  128.  Translations  of,  into  vulgar 
Greek  in  the  fourteenth  century,  i.,  69,  n.  Amy- 
ot's  French,  378.  Xy lander's  version  of,  248. 
North's,  ii.,  202.  Of  singular  benefit  to  Shaks- 
peare,  ib.  Dryden's  Life  of,  410. 

Pococke,  his  great  erudition,  ii.,  265,  432. 

Poetry,  rude  in  the  tenth  and  next  ensuing  centu- 
ries, i., 29.  Anglo-Saxon,  ib.  Scandinavian  and 
German,  ib.  Latin  poetry  barbarous,  ib.  Ba- 
con's observations  on,  li.,  75.  French  metre  and 
versification,  i.,  314.  Italian  poetry,  i.,  03,  100. 
243  ;  ii.,  221, 270,  367,  et  passim.  Castilian  poets, 
i.,  219.  French  poetry  in  the  reign  of  Francis  1 , 
220.  Its  metrical  structure,  ib.  Introduction  of 
blank  verse,  223.  Change  in  its  style,  341.  Un- 
der Louis  XIV  ,  ii.,  193,  369,  t.t  seq.  Pastoral,  i., 
147;  ii.,  236,  371.  Epic,  i.,  333,  335,  339;  ii., 
372,  373,  405,  412,  416.  English  poets,  i.,  344  ; 
ii.,  174.  English  hexameter  verse,  i,  350,  351. 
Philosophical  poetry,  ii.,  175.  The  metaphysical 
poets,  176.  The  narrative  and  historical  poets, 
177.  Milton,  John,  i,  131 ;  ii.,  182.  Shakspeare, 
179,  198,  206.  Ben  Jonson,  205,  206.  Other 
foreign  and  English  poets,  passim.  Dryden's  Es- 
say on  Dramatic  Poesy,  410,  411.  Parallel  of 
Poetry  and  Painting,  410. 

Poggio  Bracciolini,  the  first  half  of  the  fifteenth 
century  called  his  age,  i.,  64.  On  the  ruins  of 
Rome,  92.  De  varietate  fortunse,  ib. 

Poiret,  his  "  Divine  ceconomy,"  ii.,  289. 

Poland,  Protestants  in,  i.,  274.  The  Anti-Trinita- 
rians, 281.  Visited  by  Servetus,  ib.  Socinians 
of,  28 1,290.  College  at  Racow,  281  ;  ii.,  44.  Po- 
lish version  of  Scripture,  i.,  290. 

Pole,  Cardinal,  i.,  307. 

Polentone,  Secco,  i.,  123. 

Politian,  his  Italian  poems,  i.,  100,  123,231.  On 
the  death  of  Ovid,  129, 383.  Miscellanies  of,  114, 
115. 

Political  literature,  ii.,  131.     Economists,  134,  363. 

Polo,  Gil,  1.,  338,  389. 

Polybius,  commentary  on  his  History,  i.,  268 ;  n., 
150. 

Polyglots,  various,  ii.,  263,  261.  Of  Alcala,  i.,  171. 
Of  Antwerp,  405.  Polyglott  Alphabet,  241.  Brian 
Walton's,  ii.,  431. 

Pomfret,  his  "  Choice,"  a  poem,  ii.,  380. 

Pomponatius,  "  de  ImmortalUate,"  i.,  171. 

Pompomus  Laetus,  i.,  266. 

Pontanus,  Neapolitan,  his  works,  i ,  129,  130.  His 
poem  "  de  hortis  Hesperidutn,"  239,  n. 

Pool,  Matthew,  Synopsis  Criticorum  by,  ii.,  297. 

Pope,  Alexander,  his  Correspondence,  ii ,  225. 

,  Sir  Thomas,  i.,  182,  n 

Port  Royal  Greek  grammar,  the,  i.,252;  ii.,  273. 
Racine's  "  History  of  Port  Royal,"  2^1,  n. 
solution  of  the  convent  of,  285.  Literati  who  re- 
sorted to  it,  or  Messieurs  de  Port  Royal,  il> 
Their  logic,  or  1'Art  de  Penser,  299,  307,  308, 
309.  Their  style,  402,  404. 

Porta,  Baptista,  i..  397. 

• ,  Simon,  i ,  291. 

Portal,  his  "Ilistoire  de  I'Anatomie,"  quoted,  i., 
238,  239,  404  ;  ii.,  260,  261,  429. 

Portia  Capece,  i.,  330. 

Portuguese  dramatic  works,  i.,  146.     Poets,  21 
227  339      The  pastoral  is  the  chief  style  in  the 
soft  language  of  Portugal,  219.     Men  of  Inning 
in  Portugal.  180.    Conquests  in  India  bythe,  407. 
Discoveries  in  Africa,  113.     Lyric  poetry  of,  13o. 

Portus,  ^Ernilius,  i..  246,  250,  255. 

Possevm,  i.,  274,  275,  407. 

Postal,  William,  1,241,406. 

Potter's  Antiquities  of  Greece,  u.f  2(7.  His  Ly- 
cophron,  275. 


Poynet  or  Ponnet,  John,  on  "  Politique  Power "  i 
307. 

Preaching,  style  of,  before  the  Reformation,  ii.,  54. 

Prejudice,  on,  ii.,  116. 

Press,  the.     See  Printing. 

Prevost,  Mr.,  his  remark  on  Identity,  ii.,  Ill,  n. 

Printing,  art  of:  paper  its  handmaid,  i,  SO.  Inven- 
tion of,  95.  Block-books,  ib.  Gutenberg's  mo- 
vable characters,  ib.  First  printed  Bible,  96. 
Progress  of  the  art,  95, 98.  Peter  Sclwffer's  en- 
graved punch,  95.  Fust  of  Mentz,  95, 98.  Char- 
acters of  wood,  96,  .©7.  Ulnc  Gering  introduce* 
the  art  into  France,  99.  Caxton,  English  print- 
er, 10.  In  Italy,  by  Sweynheim  and  Pann:  rtz,  ib. 
The  Greek  and  Roman  classics,  first  editions  of, 
99, 144,n.,  244,  264.  Restrictions  on  the  press  at 
Rome  by  Paul  IV.  and  Pius  V.,  413  In  Spam 
by  Philip  II.,  ib.  In  Enaland  by  Klizabeth  and 
the  Star  Chamber,  ib.  The  Index  Kxpurgatonus 
of  prohibited  books,  ib.  It  included  Billies  in 
modern  languages,  ib.  Many  printers  forbid  to 
carry  on  their  profession,  ib.  Destruction  of  edi- 
tions by  the  Inquisition,  ib.  Learning  and  knowl- 
edge thereby  checked,  ib.  Woodcuts  and  illus- 
trations, 1 13. 

Prisoners  and  slaves,  ii ,  155,  156. 

Pronunciation  of  Greek  and  Latin,  on  the,  i.,  183. 
Of  modern  languages,  ii.,  403. 

Property,  law  of,  n.,  137,  140,  358,  359.  Census  o/, 
i.,319. 

Prose,  elegance  of  French,  admitted,  i ,  147,  n. 
Account  of  prose  writers,  ii.,  219,  et  passim.  Eng- 
lish prose  writers :  Hobbes,  410.  Cuwley,  ib. 
Evelyn,  ib.  Dryden,  ib. 

Prosody,  Latin,  i.,  38  ;  ii.,  21. 

Protestant  religion,  the,  i.,  163,  164,  186,  187,  190, 
192,  194,  198,  255,  271  ;  11 ,  281,  283.  See  the 
Reformation. 

Protestants,  their  tenets  broached  by  WidifTe  and 
his  followers,  i.,  193.     Luther,  187-MH,   MM,  n 
Of  Spain  and  the  Low  Countries,  • 
Of  Austria  and  Poland,  274.     Of  Bohemia  and 
Hungary,  275.     The  Protestant  controversy  in 
France,   ii.,  281.      French   Protestant  refugees, 
293.     The  Huguenots  ol  France,  i.,  - 
ii.,  281,  29.J.     Religious  intolerance,  when  mani- 
fested by,  i.,281.     Decline  of  Pn>(( -ManUs- 

I'lovriHvil    poetrv.  t'.e.  i.,  li!),  rt  .«v/,365;  11.,  168. 
lag-  allied  with  Latin,  i.,  35,  30. 

Prudentius,  i.,  38. 

Pryme,  the  "  Histrio-mastix"  of,  ii ,  198. 

Psalters  and  liturgies,  Greek,  used  in  the  Church 
oflice:s  i;:  Italy,  i.,  68.  The  Psalter  (printed  in 
1457;,  96,  97.  See  also  170. 

Psychology,  the  ideal  and  sensual,  ii.,  95,  105,  119. 

Ptolemv,  t lie  Cosmography  of,  i.,  113,  148. 

Puffi-ndorf,  Samuel,  ii.,  89.  His  "  Law  of  Nature 
and  Nations,"  15H,  [02,340,344-347,366.  Hi» 
"  Duties  of  a  Man  and  a  Citizen," 344.  Compar- 
ison of,  with  Dr.  Paley,  347.  "  Theory  of  Poli- 
tics" of,  353. 

Pulci,  Luigi,  poems  of,  i.,  100.  His  ••  Morgante 
Maggiore,"  116,  166;  n  , 

Pulteney,  botanical  observations  of,  ii.,  426. 

Punishment  of  crimes,  ii.,  151. 

Puibach,  German  mathematician,  his  discoveries, 

,    • 
Purchas,  the  "  Pilgrim,"  a  collection  Oi  voyagea  by, 

n.,  2tifi. 

Puritans,  the,  i.,  281,  2"1.  31H. 
Putrenham,  his  "  Art  of  Poesie,"  1.,  221,  264,  380, 

Pyirhonism,  i,29C,  301  ;  u.,  92. 

QUADKIO,  Italian  critic,  i.,  IOS,  330. 

(junkers,  principles  of,  ii.,  144. 

Quantity,  works  on  Greek^and  Latin,  l .,  38,  253,  n 


INDEX. 


Quarterly  Review,  articles  of  the,  quoted,  i.,  340, 
n.  ;  ii.,  192,  n.,  375,  n.  Article  of,  ascribed  to  Dr. 
Blomfield,  i.,  178,  n. 

Querenghi,  Italian  author,  ii,  185. 

Quevedo,  Spanish  satirist,  ii.,  168.  His  "  Visions," 
414. 

Quietists  and  Mystics,  the,  ii.,  289,  338. 

Quillet,  Claude,  ii.,  381. 

Quinault,  dramas  of,  ii.,  389.  La  Mere  Coquette, 
392.  Operas  of,  393. 

Quintilian,  styles  colloquial  Latin  as  quotidianus,  L, 
34.  MSS.  of,  discovered,  C4. 

Quixote,  Don,  high  reputation  of  this  work  of  fic- 
tion, ii.,  233.  New  views  as  to  the  design  of,  ib. 
Probably  erroneous,  234.  Difference  between  the 
two  parts  of,  ib.  His  library  alluded  to,  i.,  389  ; 
ii.,  234.  Translations  of,  410. 

RABELAIS,  his  Pantagruel,  i.,  230.  His  influence 
with  the  public,  414  ;  ii.,  419. 

Racan,  French  dramatic  author,  ii.,  171,  193. 

Racine,  Jean,  his  History  of  Port  Royal,  ii.,  284,  n. 
Tragedies  of,  383.  His  Andromaque,  ib.  Bri- 
tannicus,  384.  Berenice,  385.  Bajazet,  ib.  Mith- 
ridate,  ib.  Iphigenie,  386.  Phedre,  ib.  Esther, 
387.  Athalie,  ib.  His  female  characters,  ib. 
Comparison  with  Corneille,  ib.  And  with  Eurip- 
ides, 388.  Beauty  of  his  style,  ib.  His  comedy 
of  Les  Plaideurs,  392.  Madame  de  Sevigne  on, 
402. 

Raffaelle  d'Urbino,  i.,  148. 

Raimondi,  John  Baptista,  i.,  406. 

Rainbow,  theory  of  the,  ii.,  255.  The  outer  bow, 
256. 

Ramolds,  Dr.  John,  i.,  284. 

Raleigh,  Sir  Walter,  i.,  304,  347,  387  ;  ii.,  129.  His 
History  of  the  World,  230,  410. 

Rambouillet,  Marquis  de,  Catharine  de  Vivonne, 
and  her  daughter  Julie  d'Angennes,  ii.,  224.  The 
Hotel  de,  a  literary  coterie,  224, 237, 390, 400, 4 15. 

Ramiresius  de  Prado,  ii.,  18. 

Ramus,  Peter,  his  Greek  grammar,  i.,252  ;  ii.,273. 
His  logic,  i.,  298,  299  ;  ii.,  59,  299. 

Ramusio,  travels  edited  by,  i.,  406. 

Ranke,  German  historian,  i.,  245,  360,  n. 

Raphael  of  Volterra,  antiquary,  i.,  177,  266. 

Rapheling,  his  Arabic  lexicon,  ii.,  265. 

Rapin,  Nicolas,  Latin  poetry  of,  ii.,  184,  n.  Ex- 
tolled the  disputations  of  the  schools,  298.  Imi- 
tation of  Horace  by,  i.,  343. 

,  Rene,  merit  of  his  Latin  poem  on  Gardens, 

ii.,  382.  On  Eloquence  and  Poetry,  404.  His 
"  Parallels  of  the  great  men  of  antiquity,"  ib. 

Rawley's  Life  of  Lord  Bacon,  ii.,  69,  n  ,  72. 

Ray,  his  Synopsis  of  Quadrupeds,  ii.,  423.  Historia 
Plantarum,  &c.,  425.  Geological  observations  of, 
428,  429. 

Raymond  of  Toulouse,  his  letter  to  Henry  III.,  i., 
51. 

Raymondi,  Persic  grammar  by,  ii.,  265. 

Raynouard,  M.,  his  "  Choix  des  Poesies  dcs  Trou- 
badours," i.,  34.  On  the  ProvenQal  or  Romance 
language,  34,  36. 

Realists,  disputations  of  the,  i  ,  33,  110  ;  ii.,  60. 

Reason,  human,  i.,  1 18  ;  ii.,  317,  322,  338. 

Reasoning,  art  of,  i.,  Ill;  ii.,  110.  See  Logic. 
False  reasoning,  111. 

Record,  Robert,  "  Whetstone  of  Wit"  by,  i.,  392. 

Redi,  his  philosophy,  ii ,  220.  His  sonnets,  368. 
His  ode,  "  Bacco  in  Toscana,"  ib.  His  corre- 
spondence, 399.  Zoology  of,  424. 

Reformation,  the,  its  rise,  i ,  163,  307  ;  ii.,  30.  Its 
tenets,  41.  Luther,  i.,  163.  See  Luther,  Me- 
lanchthon,  and  Zwingle.  Progress  of,  166,  186. 
Controversies  of  Catholic  and  Protestant  church- 
men, ii.,  29,  &c.  Defections  to  Catholicism,  30, 
31.  Not  favourable  toj-learning,  i.,  165,  n.,  181. 


Interference  of  the  civil  power  with,  186.  Con- 
fession of  Augsburg,  188,  271.  Controversies  of 
the  chief  reformers,  189,  et  seq.  Its  revolution- 
ary tendency,  192,  271,  305.  Comparison  with 
recent  innovations,  192.  Dispute  between  the 
Swiss  reformers  and  Luther,  1 93.  Its  progress, 
198,  255,  271.  The  "  Reformatio  Legum  Eccle- 
siasticarum"  under  Edward  VI.,  259.  Protest- 
ants of  France,  their  controversy  with  the  Galli- 
can  Church,  ii.,  281-283.  Church  of  England 
divines  write  against  the  doctrines  of  Rome,  283, 
284.  Reaction  in  favour  of  the  Church  of  Rome 
in  Italy  and  Spain,  :.,  272,  273,275  ;  ii.,30.  The 
Formula  Concordias  of  the  Lutheran  Churches,  i., 
279;  ii.,  36.  Church  of  England,  the  Thirty- 
nine  Articles,  i.,  278,  279,  n.  The  High-Church 
party,  ii.,  37. 

Refraction  suggested  as  the  cause  of  prismatic  di- 
vision of  colours,  ii.,  255.  Law  of,  ib. 

Regiomontanus,  i.,  98.  His  treatise  on  triangles, 
234. 

Regis,  Jean  Silvain,  his  "  Systeme  de  la  Philoso- 
phic," ii.,  307. 

Regius,  Professor,  i.,  106;  ii.,  103. 

Regriard,  dramatic  author,  i.,  366.  His  Le  Joueur, 
ii.,  392.  Le  Legataire,  ib.  Les  Menechmes,  ib. 

Regnier,  satires  of,  ii.,  171. 

"  Rehearsal,  the,"  a  satire  by  the  Duke  of  Bucking- 
ham, ii.,  412. 

Reid's  Essays,  ii.,  90,  98,  311. 

Reindeer,  the,  i.,  400. 

Reinesius,  his  "  Varise  Lectiones,"  ii.,  17. 

Reinold,  Prussian  tables  of,  i.,  395. 

Religion,  natural,  i..  117  ;  ii.,  44,  67,  75.  Its  laws, 
338.  Influence  of  reason,  i.,  118.  Inspiration  and 
Scripture,  ib.  Traditions,  119.  Legends  of 
saints,  ib.  Influence  of  saints,  ib.  Doctrines  of 
the  Christian,  165,  et  passim.  Vindications  of 
Christianity,  290,  292,  293.  Toleration,  i.,  310  ; 
ii.,  48.  Union  of  religious  parties  sought  by  Gro- 
tius,  35.  And  by  Calixtus,  36.  Controversy  on 
Grace  and  Free-will,  40.  See  Rome,  Reforma 
tion,  Protestants. 

Remonstrants,  the,  ii ,  42, 286, 287.    See  Arminians. 

Renee,  duchess  of  Ferrara,  i.,  194. 

Reproduction,  animal,  ii.,  430. 

"  Republic"  of  Bodin,  analysis  of,  i.,  312-320. 

Republics,  on  the  institutions  of,  ii ,  356,  357,  362. 

Resende,  Garcia  de,  i.,  135.     Latin  grammar  of,  180. 

Retz,  Cardinal  de,  Memoirs  of,  ii.,  433. 

Reuchlin,  cabalistic  philosophy  of,  i.,  132.  See  n., 
145,162.  On  accent  and  quantity,  183.  See  also 
122. 

Revelation,  arguments  founded  on,  ii.,  339,  340. 

Revels,  master  of  the,  i.,  368. 

Reviews,  the  first,  ii.,  406.  The  Journal  des  Sa- 
vans,  406,  407.  The  Mercure  Galant,  407. 
Bayle's  •'  Nouvelles  de  la  Republique  des  Let 

,  tres,"  407,  408.  Le  Clerc's  "  Bibliotheque  Uni 
verselle,"  407  The  "  Leipsic  Acts,"  408.  Ital 
ian  journals,  ib.  '•  Mercure  Savant,"  ib.  Eng 
lish  reviews,  ib. 

Revms,  theologian,  ii.,  95. 

Rhoeticus,  Joachim,  mathematician,  i.,  234,  395. 

Rheede,  his  Hortus  Indicus  Malabancus,  ii.,  428. 

Rhenanus,  Beatus,  i.,  188. 

Rhenish  Academy,  the,  i.,  122. 

Rhodiginus,  Coclius,  i.,  266,  269. 

Rhbdomana,  Laurence,  his  grammatical  works,  i., 
252.  His  Life  of  Luther,  255. 

Rhyme  in  Latin,  i.,  39. 

Ribeyro,  Portuguese  pastoral  poet,  i.,  219.  Hi« 
"  Diana  of  Montemayor,"  220. 

Richard  II.,  i  ,  307. 

111.,  time  of,  i.,  228. 

Richelet,  Dictionnaire  de,  ii.,  402. 

Richelieu,  Cardinal,  a  patron  of  men  of  learning,  iu 


INDEX. 


22:>,  226.  Supports  the  liberties  of  the  Gallican 
Church,  29.  His  letters  and  writings,  225.  See 
also  89,  281,  284. 

Richer,  his  work  on  the  ecclesiastical  power,  ii., 
27,  28,  n. 

Rigault  or  Rigaltius,  French  critic,  ii.,  18. 

Rinuccini,  Ottavio,  i.,  361. 

Rivet,  Calvinistic  writer,  ii.,  54. 

Rivinus,  his  "  Res  herbaria,"  ii.,  426. 

Roads,  Roman,  ii.,  23. 

Robert,  king  of  Naples,  a  patron  of  Petrarch,  i.,  62. 

Robertson,  Dr.,  remarks  of,  i.,  52, 172.  His  History 
of  America,  172. 

Roberval,  French  mathematician,  ii.,  243,  253. 

Robison,  ii.,  90. 

Uobortellus,  philological  work  of,  i.,  253,  266.  His 
controversy  with  Sigonius,  267,  n. 

Rochefoucault,  Due  de  la,  his  maxims,  ii.,  348. 

Rochester,  Earl  of,  poems  of,  ii.,  378. 

Rogers,  his  "  Anatomy  of  the  Mind,"  i.,  266. 

Rojas,  Fernando  de,  Spanish  dramatist,  i.,  146. 

Rollenhagen,  the  "  Froschmauseler"  of,  i.,  344. 

Rollock,  Hercules,  i ,  358. 

Romaic  or  modern  Greek,  i ,  69. 

Romance  language  or  Provencal,  i.,  34,  37,  39,  41, 
383. 

,  writers  of,  Spanish,  i.,  340,  341  ;  ii.,  167, 

233.  French,  i.,  41  ;  ii.,  235,  414.  Heroic  ro- 
mances, 236,  414.  Of  chivalry,  i.,  229,  388.  Of 
Italy,  100.  Spanish  ballads,  134,  340.  English, 
ii.,  417. 

"  Romancero,"  or  collection  of  Spanish  ballads,  by 
Duran,  i.,  341. 

Rome.  See  Latin  and  Learning.  University  or 
gymnasium  of,  i ,  149.  Library  of  the  Vatican, 
410.  Topography  of  ancient,  266.  Poggio  on 
the  ruins  of,  92.  History  and  antiquities  of,  266, 
et  seq.  ;  ii.,"  132.  Jurisprudence,  i ,  322  ;  ii.,  141, 
347, 365, 366,  &c.  Works  of  Manutius,  Sigonius, 
Robertellus,  and  Gruchius  respecting,  i.,  266,267. 
Cicero,  Livy,  Dionysius,  Gellius,  and  Pomponius 
respecting  the  same,  267.  Modern  poets  ofcii., 
369.  On  the  military  system  of,  i.,  268.  Rome 
sacked  by  Bourbon,  174.  Sale  of  Indulgences, 
&c.,  attacked  by  Luther  and  Zwingle,  163,  164. 
Church  of,  states  of  Europe  which  disavowed 
its  tenets  on  the  rise  of  the  Reformation,  186, 
&c.  See  Reformation.  Reaction  in  favour  of 
Rome,  272.  Its  causes,  275  ;  ii.,  30.  Temporal 
supremacy  of  the  popes,  i  ,285  ;  ii.,  25.  Decline 
of  papal  influence,  28, 279.  Controversy  on  papal 
power,  i.,  285.  Discipline  of  the  clergy,  273, 276. 
Influence  of  the  Jesuits,  273,  284. 

Rondelet,  his  Ichthyology,  i.,  401. 

Ronsard,  Pierre,  poetry  of,  i.,342  ;  ii.,  171, 176,371. 

Roquefort,  E'Mt  de  la  Poesie  Franchise,  i.,  40. 

Rosa,  Sal  valor,  ii.,  368. 

Roscelin,  theories  of,  i.,  31,  33,  110. 

Roscoe,  William,  Esq.,  his  criticism  on  poetic 
prose,  i.,   147,  n.    Obligations  to,  149,  n.    His 
Leo  X.,  239,  n. 

Roscornmon,  Earl  of,  ii  ,  380,  381. 

Rose  or  Rossseus,  "  de  just4  reipubhcae  in  reges  po- 
testate,"  i.,  308. 

Rossi  or  Erythrtcus,  criticisms  of,  u  ,  18j. 

Rota,  Bernardino,  i.,  330. 

Rothman,  geometrician,  i.,  395. 

Rotrou,  plays  of,  ii.,  193,  n.  His  "  Wenceslas," 
196. 

Rousseau,  Jean  Jacques,  ii.,  162,  359. 

Rowley,  dramatic  works  of,  ii ,  218. 

Roy,  General,  his  "  Military  Antiquities,    &c.,  i., 

Royal  Society  of  London,  ii.,  420.     The  Philosoph- 
ical Transactions  of,  420,  422,  427,  428. 
Ruarus,  epistles  of,  ii.,  45. 

Uubbi,  the  Parnaso  Italiano  of,  i.,  328,  329 ;  n  ,  163. 
VOL  II.— 3  M 


Rubens,  Albert,  on  tho  Roman  costume,  ii.,  277. 
Rucellai,  the  "Bees"  of,  an  imitation  of  Virgil't 

fourth  Georgic,  i.,  LM7. 
Rudfaeck,  Olaus,  ii.,  262. 
Rueda,  Lope  de,  Spanish  plays  of,  i.,  226,  227. 
Ruel,  John,  i ,  180.     His  translation  of  Dioscoridea 

on  Botany,  240.     "  De  naturii  stirpium,"  ib. 
Ruhnkenius,  his  praise  of  Muretus,  i.,  237. 
Rumphius,  herbarium  Amboinense  of,  ii.,  428. 
Rutgersius,  "  Varia;  Lectiones"  of,  ii.,  17. 
Ruysch,  Dutch  physician,  ii.,  430. 
Rymer  on  tragedy,  ii.,  412.    His  "  Fosdera,"  ib. 

SAAVEDRA,  ii.,  134. 

Sabinus,  George,  i.,  356. 

Sacchetti,  Italian  novelist,  i.,  100. 

Sachs,  Hans,  German  dramatic  poet,  i.,  169,  220, 

228. 
Sackville's  Induction  to  the  Mirrour  of  Magistrates, 

i.,  345,  346,  367.     His  "  Gorboduc,"  367. 
Sacy,  M.  de,  French  author,  ii.,  235. 
Sadler,  Sir  Ralph,  i.,  1*3. 
Sadolet,  Cardinal,  reputation  of.  i.,  14S,  174,  175  ; 

ii.,  21.     Observations  of,  i.,  219,  n  ,  231,  n.,  242. 

His  strict  piety,  276. 

Saint  Kvremond,  de,  tasteful  poetry  of,  ii.,  401. 
Saint  Real,  the  abbe  de,  ii.,  293,  n. 
Sainte  Marthe  or  Sammarthanus,  Latin  poet,  i., 

357  ;  ii.,  382.     His  "  Pa»dotrophia,"  i.,  357. 
Sales,  St.  Francis  de,  ii.,  56. 
Salfi,  references  to,  ii.,  163,  166,  221,  222,  399. 
Salisbury,  John  of,  i.,  HO. 
Sallo,  Denis  de,  ii.,  406,  407. 
Sallust,  i.,  414. 
Salmasius,   Claudius,  erudition  of,  ii.,   18.      His 

'•  Plinianre  Exercitationes,"  and  other  works,  19, 

272.     De  Lingua  Hellenistica,  15. 
Salvator  Rosa,  satires  of,  ii.,  368. 
Salviani's  "  Animalium  aquatilium  historic,"  i  ,  401. 
Salviati,  his  attack  on  Tasso,  entitled  L'lnl'arinato, 

i.,  386. 

Salvini,  ii.,  163. 

Samaritan  Pentateuch,  the,  ii.,  264. 
Sanchez,  Thomas,  works  of,  i.,  296  ;  : 
S.inrroft,  Archbishop,  his  "Fur  prasdestinatus,"  ii , 

287. 

.Srinctius,  his  Grammar,  i.,  253  ;  ii.,  273. 
Sanrlorius,  "  dc  Mrdiciija  statica,"  ii.,  263 
Sanderson,  an  English  casuist,  ii.,  125. 
Sandys's  sermons,  i.,  284. 
Sannazaro,  excellent  genius  of,  the  Italian  poet,  i  , 

147,  220.     Latin  poetry  of  Sannazarius,  2*1,  225, 

383  ;  ii.,  382.     "  Arcadia"  of,  i  .  117,  220,  389. 
Sanson,  Nicolas,  his  maps,  ii.,  4l!2. 
Santis,  De,  economist,  ii.,  135. 
Santeul,  Latin  poetry  of  Santolius,  ii.,  3*2. 
S.ipphn,  translated  by  Madame  Dacier,  ii.,  2"/l. 

-  <>i  Spain,  i  ,  39. 

Sarbievus,  Casimir,  modern  Latin  poet,  u.,  184, 185. 
Sarpi,  Father  Paul,  i.,  399.  ri.     His  account  of  Hie 

work  of  Bellarrmn,  n  ,  20,  n.     His  writings,  27 

His  medical  discoveries,  26,  n.,  25'J.     Ii 

gious  tenets,  27.     See  note. 
Sarrazin,  French  pool,  ii.,  171. 
Satire,  Origin  and  Progress  of,  by  Dryden,  u.,  410. 
Savi"-ny.  De,  quotations  from,  i  .  5 
Savife,   Sir   Hr.nry,  i.,  2<!5,  269.     His  edition  of 

Chrysostom,  ii.,  16. 

Saxony,  the  Reformation  protected  in,  i ,  103. 
Scala,  Flaminio,  ii.,  !-'» 
Scaliger,  Joseph,  critical  remarks  of,  i ,  250,  2f 

The  "  Scaligerana,"  260,  n.,  283,  n.,  4i>5,  n.     K[>- 

itaph  by  Hemsius  on,  260.     Censur-  on,  2,0; 

n.,  21.     "  De  ememlalionr  u-mporiiin  '  "I.  i  .  2 

His  knowledge  ol  Ar.il>:>-.   jm; :  "-,265      Latin 

poetry  of,  i  ,  356.  n.     ('ri'i.-ii'Tn-  1  v  ih-  S,- ,  igers, 

293,  n.,287,  n  ;  n  , 


INDEX. 


Scaliger,  Julius  Caesar,  i.,  176,  260.  "  De  causis 
Latins  linguae,"  1 76.  His  "  Poetica,"  382,  383. 

Scandinavia,  early  poetry  of,  i.,  29. 

Scapula,  his  Abridgment  of  Stephens's  Thesaurus, 
i.,  251.  Distich  on,  ib.,  n.  Opinions  on  the  Lex- 
icon of,  ib.,  n. 

"  Scarabaeus  aquilam  quaerit"  of  Erasmus,  i.,  157, 
158. 

Scarron,  Abbe,  the  Roman  comique  of,  ii.,  415. 

Scheiner,  the  Jesuit,  optical  treatise  by,  ii.,  262. 

Schaeffer,  Peter,  his  inventions  in  printing,  i.,96. 

Scheidus,  Melissus,  ii.,  185. 

Schlegel,  FVederic,  his  opinion  that  Luther's  report 
of  Satanic  visions  bordered  on  insanity,  i.,  198. 

• . — ,  William,  his  praise  of  Calderon,  ii.,  192. 

His  criticisms  on  Shakspeare,  i.,  371  ;  ii.,  205, 
211. 

Schmidt,  Erasmus,  observations  of,  i.,  285.  His 
Pindar,  ii.,  16. 

Scholastic  treatises,  i.,  291.  Character  of  certain, 
ii.,  122,  123. 

Schools,  cathedral  and  conventual,  under  Charle- 
magne and  his  successors,  i.,  27,  28,  n.  State  of 
English  schools  in  the  time  of  Henry  VI11.,  182. 
English,  institutions  and  regulations  of,  263. 

Science,  state  of,  i.,  234  ;  ii.,  124,  240.  Lord  Ba- 
con's "  de  augmentis  scientiarurn,"  70,  et  seq. 
Hobbes's  chart  of  human,  113.  Institutions  for 
the  advancement  of,  420. 

Scioppius,  Caspar,  controversies  of,  ii.,  19.  His 
philological  works,  19,  273. 

Scot,  his  "  Discovery  of  Witchcraft,"  i.,  264,  266, 
289. 

of  Scotstarvet,  Latin  elegies  of,  ii.,  186. 

Scotland,  state  of  classical  learning  in,  i.,  183,  265. 
Latin  poets  of,  ii.,  186.  Calvinists  of,  i.,  308. 

Scott,  Sir  Walter,  ii.,  378. 

Scotti,  his  "  Monarchia  Solipsorum,"  ii.,  238. 

Scottish  dialect,  ancient  poems  in  the,  i.,  147. 

Scotus,  Duns,  barbarous  character  of  his  sophistry, 
i.,  262,  n .,  291. 

Krigena,  John,  his  mysticism,  i.,  28,  110. 

Scriptures,  Holy,  first  printed  Bible,  i.,  96.  Eras- 
mus's New  Testament,  151,  159.  Tyndale's  New 
Testament,  193.  English  Bible  under  the  author- 
ity of  James  I.,  ii.,  58.  Italian  versions,  i.,  194. 
The  Vulgate,  289.  Hebrew,  Syriac,  and  Chal- 
daic  text,  170,  171,  405;  ii.,  263.  The  Penta- 
teuch in  Samaritan  characters,  264.  Masoretic 
text  and  vowel  points,  ib.  The  Decalogue,  125. 
Translation  of  part  of,  into  Greek  hexameters, 
275.  ^Ethiopic  New  Testament,  i.,  241.  The 
Hebrew  chronology,  ii.,  278.  Expositions  of 
Scripture,  i.,  287  ;  ii.,  297.  Latin  versions  and 
Romish  editions,  i ,  289.  Critical  histories  of,  ii., 
297,  298.  Protestant  editions  of,  i.,  290.  Poly- 
glott  Bible  of  Alcala,  171.  Versions  of,  into  mod- 
ern languages,  290.  Forty-eight  editions  of  the 
Bible  prohibited  by  Rome,  413.  See  also  105, 
180,  n.,  305,  307  ;  ii.,  429. 

Scucleri,  Mademoiselle  de,  her  romances,  ii.,  236, 
237,  372,  414. 

Seba,  Adeodatus,  i ,  356. 

Sebonde,  Raimond  de,  i.,  301. 

Secundus,  Latin  poems  of,  i.,  357. 

Sedano,  his  Parnaso  Espanol,  i.,  337 ;  ii.,  167. 

Segneri,  Paolo,  ii.,  206,  n  ,  399. 

Segrais,  pastoral  poetry  of,  ii.,  372.  His  novels,  415. 
"  Segraisiana,"  &c.,  409,  412. 

Seguier,  President,  library  of,  ii.,  268. 

Seicentisti,  writers  of  the  sixteenth  century,  ii.,  163. 

Selden,  his  treatise  "  de  J'ue  naturali  juxta  He- 
braeos,"  ii.,  125,  126,  264.  His  Table-Talk,  129. 
His  controversy  on  fisheries,  the  Mare  liberum 
sive  clausum,  146. 

Selden's  "  Arundelian  Marbles,"  ii.,  22.  Hia  Ta- 
ble-talk, 54,  n. 


Self-defence,  ii.,  145. 

Seneca,  i.,  365,  366,  414  ,  ii.,  127,  12S. 

Sensation,  Hobbes's  theory  of,  ii.,  105. 

Sensibility,  Universal,  theory  of  Campanella,it.,62. 

Sergardi,  satire  of,  ii.,  381. 

Serlio,  i.,  397. 

Serra,  Antonio,  ii.,  134. 

Servetus,  tenets  and  works  of,  i.,  195.  Put  to 
death  at  Geneva,  280,  281  ;  ii.,  48.  Account  of 
his  "  Christianismi  Restitutio,"  i.,  280,  n. ;  ii. 
259,  260,  n. 

Seven  Champions  of  Christendom,  by  Johnson,  i , 
391. 

Sevigne,  Madame  de,  Letters  of,  ii.,  401.  Her  tal 
ent,  ib.  Want  of  sensibility,  401,  n.,  402,  n. 
Colloquial  style  of,  409. 

Shadwell's  plays,  immoral,  ii.,  397,  398. 

Shakspeare,  William,  his  poerns,  "  Venus  and  Ado- 
nis," i.,  348,  372.  "  Lucrece,"  348.  His  life  and 
early  plays,  372,  &  c.  Few  obliterations  by  Shaks- 
peare, nor  any  by  Lope  de  Vega,  361.  His  son- 
nets, ii.,  179.  His  plays:  Twelfth  Night,  198. 
Much  Ado  about  Nothing,  ib.  Merry  Wives  of 
Windsor.  198,391.  Measure  for  Measure, i., 368, 
388  ;  ii.,  199.  King  Lear,  200.  Timon  of  Athens, 
ib.  Pericles,  i.,  372,  n. ;  ii.,  201.  The  Historical 
plays,  i.,  375.  Julius  Caesar,  ii.,  202.  Antony  and 
Cleopatra,  ib.  Coriolanus,  ib.  Richard  II. ,203. 
His  other  plays,  201,  202,  203,  204,  210.  Henry 
VI.  whence  taken,  i.,  369,  372.  Comedy  of  Er- 
rors, 372 ;  ii.,  392.  Midsummer  Night's  Dream, 
i.,  373.  Two  Gentlemen  of  Verona,  ib.  Love's 
Labour  Lost,  ib.  Taming  of  the  Shrew,  ib, 
Romeo  and  Juliet,  374.  Merchant  of  Venice, 
376  ;  ii ,  63,  395  As  You  Like  it,  i.,  376.  His 
retirement  and  death,  ii.,  202.  Greatness  of  his 
genius,  i.,  304  ;  ii.,  203.  His  judgment,  203.  His 
obscurity  of  style,  204.  His  popularity,  ib.  Crit- 
ics on  his  dramas,  ib.  Dryden's  remarks  on,  204, 
n.,  214,  n.  See  also  i.,  369,  n.,  371, 382,  388 ;  ii.. 
385,  386. 

Sharrock,  "  de  officiis,"  &c.,  ii.,  337,  427. 

Shirley,  his  comedy  of  "The  Gamesters,"  ii.,  217, 
396. 

Sibilet,  Thomas,  the  "  Art  poetique"  of,  i.,  233. 
His  Iphigenia  of  Euripides,  227. 

Sidney,  Sir  Philip,  i ,  326,  368.  His  "  Arcadia," 
381,  390  ;  ii.,  270.  "  Defence  of  Poesie,"  i.,  347, 
381,  387.  Poems  of,  348,  n  ;  ii.,  410. 

,  Algernon,  his  Discourses  on  Government, 

ii.,  358.  ' 

Siena,  the  Rozzi  of,  i.,  411. 

Sidonius,  observations  of,  i.,  34. 

Sigonius,  works  of,  i.,  177,  253.  "  De  consola- 
tione,"  259.  On  the  Athenian  polity,  268.  On 
Roman  antiquity,  266.  "  De  jure  civium  Roma- 
norum"  and  "  de  jure  Italic,"  267. 

Silvester's  translation  of  the  Creation,  or  La  Se- 
maine,  by  Du  Bartas,  i.,  343.  Poem  ascribed  to, 
348. 

Simon,  le  pere,  ii.,  290,  297,  431. 

Sionita,  Hebraist,  ii.,  264,  265. 

Sirmond,  historian,  ii.,  53. 

Sismondi,  criticisms  of,  ii.,  192,  233. 

Sixtus  V.,  i.,  259, 290, 406, 410.  The  Sistine  Bible, 
290. 

Skelton's  rhymes,  i.,  170,  228. 

Smetius,  Martin,  ii.,  22. 

Smiglecius,  logician,  ii.,  299. 

Smith,  professor  at  Cambridge,  i.,  183. 

,  Adam,  ii.,  160. 

Snell,  Willibrcd,  his  Cyclometric  is,  ii.,  244.  Oo 
refraction,  255. 

Socir.ian  heresy,  i.,  195,  281.  The  Socinians  in 
England,  281 ;  ii.,  288. 

Socinus,  Laelius,  i.,  195,  281. 

,  Faustus,  i.,  281 ;  ii.,  44. 


INDEX. 


459 


Solids,  the  ratio  of,  ii.,  243. 

Soliuus,  his  "  Polyhistor,"  ii.,  19. 

Solis,  Antonio  de,  "  Conquest  of  Mexico"  by,  ii 
433. 

Solon,  ii.,  145. 

Sonnets,  Italian,  i.,  328,  329,  330,  n.,  331,  n. ;  ii., 
176,  367,  308.  French,  i.,  344.  Of  Milton,  ii., 
1S4.  Of  Shakspeare,  179.  Of  Drummond  of 
Hawthornclen,  180.  Of  the  Earl  of  Stirling,  ib. 
Construction  of,  181,  n. 

Sophocles,  ii.,  374,  377,  416. 

Sorbonne,  the,  i ,  133,  290  ;  ii.,  285,  298. 

Sole,  Peter,  confessor  to  Charles  V.,  i.,  198, 279,  n. 

,  Barahona  de,  i.,  338. 

,  Dominic,  "  de  justitia,"  i.,  299,  325. 

Soul,  the,  ii.,  96,  303,  304,  331. 

"  Soul's  Errand,"  the,  early  poem,  i.,  348. 

South,  Dr.,  sermons  of,  ii.,  287,  297. 

Southampton,  Lord,  friend  of  Shakspeare,  i.,  372. 

Southern,  his  Fatal  Discovery,  ii.,  390.  Oroonoko, 
ib. 

Southey,  Mr.,  his  edition  of  Hawes,  i.,  169.  Re- 
marks of,  339,  n. 

Southwell,  Robert,  the  Jesuit,  poems  of,  i.,  348. 

Spain,  dramatic  productions  of,  i ,  146,226,301  ;  ii., 
189.  Poets  of,  i.,  135,  2 18,  336  ;  ii.,  167.  Defects 
of  Spanish  poetry,  168.  Castilian  poetry,  i.,  337, 
338.  Epic  poets,  339.  Persecution  for  religion 
in,  196.  Prose  writers  of,  ii.,  222.  Cervantes, 
233.  Library  of  the  Escurial  palace,  i.,  410,  n.  ; 
ii.,265.  Of  Alcala  and  Salamanca,  i  ,410.  The- 
ologians and  editors  of  Scripture  in,  171.  Loyola 
and  the  Jesuits  of,  274.  Philologists  and  literati 
of,  180,  231,  232.  Metaphysicians  of,  ii.,  60. 
Philip  II.  and  the  Inquisition,  i.,  273,  286,  287, 
336.  Prohibited  books,  413.  See  also  105 ;  ii., 
403. 

Sovereign  and  sovereign  power,  the,  ii.,  137,  144. 

Sparmeim,  Ezekiel,  ii.,  273,  277,  278. 

"  Speculum  humans  salvationis,"  the,  i.,  95. 

Spec,  German  poet,  ii.,  172, 

Spencer,  de  Legibus  Hebraeorum,  ii.,  431. 

Spener,  writings  of,  ii.,  289. 

Spenser,  Edmund,  his  school  of  poetry,  i ,  166;  ii , 
174,  175.  His  "  Shepherd's  Kalendar,"  i.,  316. 
His"  Epithalamium,"348.  The"  Faery  Queen," 
352-355.  His  style,  353,  354.  His  allegories, 
354.  Compared  with  A riosto,  353.  .His  political 
works,  382. 

Sperone  Speroni,  his  tragedy  of  Canace,  i.,  226,231. 

Spiegel,  Dutch  poet,  his  works,  ii.,  173. 

Spinosa,  i.,  292.  The  "  Tractatus  theologico  po- 
liticus"  of,  ii.,  290.  Ethics  or  Moral  System  of, 
318,  321,  323,  324,  337.  Metaphysics  of,  319. 
"  De  Deo"  by,  319-321.  His  character,  &c.,  324. 
Treatise  on  Politics  by,  355.  Of  a  Monarchy,  350. 

Spiritual  dramas,  i.,  146. 

Sprengel,  medical  remarks  of,  ii.,260, 263, 425,  431. 

St.  Vincent,  Gregory,  geometry  of,  ii ,  211. 

Stae'l,  Madame  de,  her  Connne,  i.,65,  n.  Observa- 
tions of,  on  Komeo  and  Juliet,  374. 

Stampa,  Gaspara,  i.,  330.     Anasilla,  331. 

Stanley,  Thomas,  his  "  History  of  Ancient  Philoso- 
phy," ii.,  275, 300.  His  edition  of  ^Eschylus,  275. 

Star-Chamber,  the,  i.,  413. 

Stationer's  Company  founded  in  1555,  i.,  413. 

Statius  Achilles  or  Estaco,  i.,  249. 

,  Thebaid  of,  i.,  383  ;  ii.,  373. 

Statistics,  writers  on,  ii.,  364.  Statistical  topogra- 
phy, 131. 

Steele,  his  Conscious  Lovers,  ii.,  398,  n. 

Steevens,  commentator  on  Shakspeare,  i.,  369,  n., 
372,  n. ;  ii ,  179,  205. 

Stephens,  Henry,  his  erudition,  i.,  249.  His  press 
celebrated,  ib.  Life  of,  by  Maittaire,  ib.,  n.  By 
Almeloveen  and  other  biographers,  ib.,  n.  His 
Thesaurus*  Linguaj  Latina;,  179,  250.  His  own 


testimony  on  various  lexicons  178,250,  n.  Scap- 
ula's abridgment  of  the  Thesaurus  of,  251.  Dies 
in  poverty,  ib.  His  philological  works,  256,  386. 
Epigrams,  356.  Forbid  to  print,  413.  Various 
observations  of,  179,  n. 

Stephens,  Robert,  the  Novum  Testamentum  Grx- 
cum,  &c.,  &c.,  edited  by,  i ,  251,  n.,  289  ;  u.,  21. 

Stevinus,  Simon,  his  Statics,  i.,  :;<)7. 

Stewart,  Dugald,  metaphysical  works  of,  i.,  298, 
312;  ii.,  75,  91,  n.,  97,  93,  104,  110,  n  ,  158,  159, 
160,  161,  162,  329,  330,  332,  350.  et  passim. 

Stifelius,  Michael,  i  ,  3U2  ;  u.,  240 

Still,  John,  i.,  229,  307. 

Stillingfleet,  polemical  writings  of,  ii  ,284,287  297 
332. 

Stirling,  Earl  of,  sonnets  of,  ii.,  180.  His  poem  of 
"  Domesday,"  ib.,  n. 

Stockwood,  John,  his  "  Progyrnnasma  Scholasti- 
cum,"  i ,  264,  n. 

Strada,  Samianus,  ii.,  19.  The  "  Infamia  Fainiani" 
of  Scioppius,  20.  His  "  Prolusiones  Academi- 
cae,"  22. 

Strigelius,  Loci  Theologici  of,  i  ,  2-7. 

Strozzi,  poem  on  chocolate  by,  ii ,  381. 

Strype,  John,  his  Life  of  Smith,  i ,  183,  n.  Re- 
marks of,  307. 

Sturm,  John,  his  treatise  on  Education,  i,  181,183. 

Snard,  remarks  of,  i.,  360,  n. 

Suarez  of  Granada,  his  treatise  "de  Legibus,"  ii., 
122.  Titles  of  his  ten  books,  ib.  His  perpetual 
quotations,  123.  His  Metaphysical  Disputations, 
60. 

,  his  theory  of  government,  ii.,  132.  His 

work  of  laws,  133,  141. 

Suckling,  Sir  John,  poetry  of,  ii.,  182. 

Suidas,  proverb  quoted  from,  i.,  114.  His  lexicon, 
128. 

Sun,  spots  of  the,  discovered  by  Harriott,  Fabricius, 
and  Schemer,  ii.,  248.  Its  revolution  round  it» 
axis,  ib. 

Supremacy  over  the  Church,  question  of,  ii.,  45,  tt 
seq.  Remarks  on  regal  supremacy,  47. 

Surrey,  Earl  of,  his  style  of  poetry  described,  i.,  221. 
The  introducer  of  blank  verse,  223. 

Swammerdam,  naturalist,  ii.,  4'21.     On  Insects,  ib. 

Swift,  Dean,  ii.,  415.  His  "Tale  of  a  Tub,"  i., 
230;  li.,411». 

Switzerland,  the  Reformation  begun  by  Zwingle  at 
Xiinch.  i.,  10».  Doctrines  of  the  Protestants  of, 
280.  Theologians  of,  285. 

Sydenham,  Dr.,  n.,  431. 

Sylburgius,  his  Greek  grammar,  i ,  252.  His  Aris- 
totle and  Dionysius,  254. 

Sylvius,  Dutch  physician,  ii  ,  25!),  430. 

"  Syntagma  Plulosophicuin"  of  Gassendi,  ii.,  302, 
305,  K2!). 

Syphon,  power  of  the.  ii.,  254. 

Syriac  version  of  the  Bible,  ii.,  265.  The  Maronita 
College  of  Mount  Libanus,  ib. 

TACITUS,  his  "  Annals,"  i.,  149,414.     Lipsius' 
tionof,  248.    Savile's  translation  o£  aflfc    Com- 
mentary on,  ii.,  357.     Davanzati's  translation  of, 
i.,  378. 

Talmud,  the  study  of  the,  ii.,  2t'.l. 

Talon,  Otner,  "  Institutiones  Oratorios"  of.  i  ,  386. 

Tansillo,  Italian  poet,  i  ,  329.     His  ••  La  lialia."  ib. 

Tarlagha,  Nicolas,  his  solution  ol  cubic  equations 
in  algebra,  i.,  234,  391.  His  inrchmii: 

Tasso,  Bernardo,  his  "  Amadigi,"  i ,  332.  Celebra- 
ted sonnet  by,  ib.,  n. 

,  Torquato,  the  "  Gi«usalemme  Liberata  of, 

i ,  333,  et  sea.,  385,  3SC, ;  ii  ,  373.  Comparison  of, 
with  Homer  and  Virgil,  i.,  334,  335.  And  with 
A  riosto,  334,  335,  385,  3-w.  Excellence  of  his 
style,  334,  377.  His  conceits,  3 3. I.  Defect*  of 
the  poem,  ib.  His  peculiar  genius,  ib.  Tha 


460 


INDEX. 


"  Aminta"  of,  359.    His  "  Torrismond,"  a  trage- 
dy, 359. 

Tassoni,  his  observations  on  Petrarch,  &c.,  ii.,221. 
"  Secchia  Rapita"  of,  165,  270,  371. 

Tauler's  sermons,  German,  ii.,  54.     See  also  64. 

Taurellus,  Nicholas,  his  "  Alpes  Caesae,"  i.,  291, 
292,  n. 

Tavernier,  his  travels  in  the  Fast,  n.,  433. 

Taylor,  Jeremy,  ii ,  39,  42.  His  "  Dissuasive  from 
Popery,"  284,  297.  Sermons  of,  55.  Devotional 
writings  of,  56.  His"  Ductor  dubitantium,"  336, 
340,344.  Its  character  and  defects,  336.  His 
"  Liberty  of  Prophesying,"  48.  Boldness  of  his 
doctrine,  49.  His  defence  of  toleration,  51.  Ef- 
fect of  his  treatise,  52.  Its  defects,  ib.  His  De- 
fence of  Episcopacy,  53,  410. 

,  Brook,  Contemplatio  Philosophica  of,  ii., 

94,  n. 

Telemachus,  Fenelon's,  ii.,  416. 

Telescope,  invention  of  the,  ii.,  254.  Dutch  or 
spying-glasses,  255. 

Telesio,  Bernard,  i.,  292  ;  ii.,  61,  69. 

Temple,  Sir  William,  ii.,  276,  412.  His  defence  of 
Antiquity,  414. 

Tennemann  on  the  origin  of  modern  philosophy,  i., 
31,  n. 

Tepel,  his  history  of  the  Cartesian  philosophy,  ii., 
306,  n. 

Terence,  his  comedies  printed  as  verse,  i ,  151.  Edi- 
tions of,  ii.,  17. 

Testi,  imitator  of  Horace,  ii.,  166. 

Teutonic  languages,  the,  i.,  84. 

Theatre,  i.,  125.  The  French  stage,  365,  n.,  &c. 
The  early  English  drama,  229,  367,  &c.  See 
also  Italian,  French,  and  English  dramatic  wri- 
ters, nominatim.  Theatres  in  Paris,  366.  Thea- 
tres, London,  368  ;  ii.,  197,  198.  Closed  by  the 
Parliament,  198.  Extant  English  Mysteries,  i., 
124.  See  Drama. 

Theobald,  commentator  on  Shakspeare,  ii.,  204. 

Theodore,  Archbishop,  i.,  27. 

Theodosius,  Code  of  the  Emperor,  i.,  52  ;  ri ,  366. 

Theocritus,  i.,  128,  346,  347,  360. 

Theologia  Moralis  of  Escobar,  ii.,  122. 

Theological  literature,  History  of,  i.,  271  ;  ii.,  25, 
279,  294,  296.  Change  in  the  character  of,  289. 
Expositions  in  theology,  i.,  287  ;  ii.,  297. 

Theology,  system  of,  i.,  30  ;  ii.,  78.  Public  schools 
of,  in  Italy,  i.,  33.  Controversial,  266, 286.  Scho- 
lastic method  of,  286. 

Theophrastus,  i ,  399.  Lectures  by  Duport  on,  ii., 
275.  His  Characters.  348. 

,  Dioscoricles,  and  other  ancient  wri- 
ters on  Botany,  i.,  239,  240,  399. 

Theosophists,  ii.,  64. 

Theresa,  St.,  mysticism  of,  ii.,  56. 

Thermometer,  the,  ii.,  422. 

Thibault,  king  of  Navarre,  Troubadour,  i.,  40. 

Thomists,  the,  i.,  279,  291.     See  Aquinas. 

Thomson,  Dr.,  ii.,  425. 

Thouars,  M.  du  Petit,  i.,  403. 

Thuarius,  M.  de  Thou,  ii.,  20,  268. 

Thucydides,  editions  of,  i.,  181,  245  ;  ii.,  275. 

Tibaldeo,  Italian  poet,  i.,  131. 

Tillotson,  Archbishop,  ii.,  40,  287,  288.  His  ser- 
mons, 44,  n.,  297. 

Tiedemann,  remarks  of,  i.,  31,  n. 

Tintoret,  paintings  of,  i.,  336. 

Tiraboschi  quoted,  i.,  51,  65, 177, 259  ;  ii.,  219,  221, 
el  passim. 

"  Titus  Andronicus"  not  a  play  of  Shakspeare's,  i., 
372. 

Toleration  of  religions,  i.,  310  ;  ii.,  48,  51. 

Toletus,  the  Jesuit,  his  "  Summa  casuum  consci- 
entias,"  ii.,  122. 

Tolomei,  Claudio,  i.,  329,  333. 
Tonelli,  his  notes  on  Poggio,  i.,  64,  n. 


Torelli,  his  tragedy  of  Merope,  i.,  359. 

Torrentius,  his  Horace,  ii ,  17 

Torricelli,  high  merit  ot,  11 ,  220.  Hifl  hydraulics, 
253. 

Tortus,  Matthew,  ii.,  26. 

Tostatus,  Alfonsus,  i.,  105. 

Tottel's  Miscellanies,  i.,  221,  344. 

Tournefort,  his  Elemens  de  la  B  )tanique,  ii.,  425, 
426. 

Toussain,  eminent  scholar,  i.,  180. 

Toutain,  his  "  Agamemnon,"  from  Seneca,  i.,  365. 

Tragedy,  Italian,  i  ,  226,  359  ;  ii.,  186,  188.  Span- 
ish, i.,  363.  French,  365  ;  ii.,  193,  383,  et  seq. 
English,  200,  et  seq.  Ancient  Greek,  374,  377,  et 
passim.  Rymer  on  Tragedy,  412.  Criticisms  on 
certain  tragedies,  ib.  See  Drama,  and  names  of 
dramatic  authors. 

Translating,  Dryden  on  the  art  of,  ii.,  412. 

Transubstantiation,  controversy  on,  i.,  30. 

Travels,  early  writers  of,  i.,  148.  Later  writers  of, 
ii.,  433. 

Treaties,  public,  ii ,  149, 150, 157.  Truces  and  con- 
ventions, 158. 

Tremellius,  i ,  290,  405. 

Trent,  the  Council  of,  i.,  197,  276,  277,  n.,  279,285, 
289,  413;  ii.,  27. 

Trinitarian  controversy,  the,  i  ,  280  ;  ii.,  288. 

Triqnero,  Spanish  dramatist,  i.,  303. 

Trissino,  principles  of  his  "  Italia  Liberata,"  i.,  194. 
His  epic  poem  insipid,  and  the  origin  of  blank 
verse,  218. 

Tristan,  the  "  Marianne"  of,  ii.,  196. 

Trithemius,  "  Annales  Hirsargienses"  of,  i.,  95. 

Troubadours  and  Provencal  poets,  i.,  39,  40. 

"  Troye,  Recueil  des  Histoires  de"  by  Caxton,  i., 
99. 

Truth,  intuitive,  ii.,  100. 

Turamini,  "  de  legibus,"  i.,  324. 

Turberville,  poems  of,  i.,  348. 

Turenne,  Marshal,  ii.,  281,  296. 

"  Turkish  Spy,"  the,  ii:,  417. 

Turks,  History  of  the,  ii.,  229.  The  Turkish  lan- 
guage, 265. 

Turnebus.i.,  180.  His  translations  of  Greek  class- 
ics into  Latin,  246.  His  "Adversaria,"  ib.  Mon- 
taigne's character  of,  ib.  His  reputation,  250. 
His  "  Ethics  of  Aristotle,"  254. 

Turner,  Dr.,*is  New  Herbal,!., 401.  His"Avium 
praecipuarum  historia,"  240. 

Turpin,  romance  of  "  Charlemagne"  by,  i.,  130. 

Turrecremata,  Joannes  de,  his  Explanatio  in  psal- 
terium,  i.,  99. 

Tycho  Brahe,  his  Mundane  System,  i.,  369,  et  seq. 
His  discovery  as  to  the  path  of  comets,  396  ;  ii., 
247. 

Tyndale's,  the  first  English  version  of  the  New 
Testament,  i.,  193. 

Tyrwhitt's  observations  on  Chaucer,  i.,  223. 

Twining  on  the  Poetics  of  Aristotle,  i.,  384. 

UBALDI-,  Guido,  i ,  397. 

Udal,  Nicholas,  i.,  229.  His  comedy  of  "  Ralp> 
Roister  Doister,"  229,  367. 

Understanding,  Malebranche  of  the  Esprit  pur,  or 
ii ,  313.  Locke's  Essay,  305,  327. 

Unitarians,  Polish  and  German,  ii..  288. 

Universal  character,  on  a,  ii.,  327. 

ideas,  question  of  the  reality  of,  i ,  31 

How  formed,  ii.,  322. 

Universities:  origin  of  that  of  Paris,  i.,  30.  Its 
succession  of  early  professors,  31.  Collegiate 
foundations  not  derived  from  the  Saracens,  32. 
Cordova  and  Granada  possessed  gymnasia  rather 
than  universities,  ib.  Of  Oxford,  31.  Its  great 
men,  32,  n.,  409;  ii.,  275.  Of  Germany,  i.,  159, 
163,  181,  182.  Italian  universities,  259,  409.  Of 
Leyden,  409;  ii.,  265,  306.  Of'Altdo-f  and 


INDEX. 


461 


Helmstadt,  60.    Of  Copenhagen,  i.,  182.     Of 
Prussia,  ib.     Of  Scotland,  265,  299,  409.     Lec- 
tures of  professors,  182 ;  ii.,  60.     State  of,  in  the 
seventeenth  century,  267. 
x  Urban  VIII.,  Matthei  Barberini,  ii.,  28,  185. 

Urbino,  Francis,  duke  of,  i.,  268. 

Urfe,  d',  his  romance  of  "  Astrde,"  ii.,236,  372,416. 

Usher,  Archbishop,  ii.,  53.  Forms  the  Library  of 
Trinity  College,  Dublin,  268.  His  "  Annals  of 
the  old  Testament,"  278.  His  Chronology,  ib. 

VACARIUS  in  1149  taught  at  Oxford,  i.,  32,  n. 

Vaillant,  his  travels  and  medals,  ii.,  278. 

Valdes,  a  Spanish  teacher  of  the  Reformation,  i., 

196. 

Valerianus,  "  de  infelicitate  litteratorum,"  i.,  174,  n. 
Valla,   Laurentius,  criticisms  of,  i.,  92,  93,  179, 

182. 

Valle,  Pietro  della,  his  Travels,  ii.,  266. 
Vallee,  pamphlet  of,  i.,  289. 
Valois,  Henry,  ii.,  274. 
Vanbrugh,  Sir  John,  dramas  of,  ii.,  392,  398. 
Vanini,  Lucilio,  ii.,  57.     Burned  at  Paris,  ib. 
V'archi,   his   dialogues,   the  "  Ercolano,"  i.,  385. 

Praise  of  Dante  above  Homer  by,  ib. 
Varenius,  Syntaxis  Graecas  linguae  of,  i.,  178. 
Varignon,  M.,  "  Nouvelle  Mecanique"  by,  i.,  398. 
Varoli,  the  "  Anatomia"  of,  i.,  404. 
Vasa,  Gustavus,  i.,  187. 

Vasari,  his  paintings  in  the  Sistine  Chapel,  i.,  274. 
Vasquez,  law  writer,  i.,  327. 
Vassan,  de,  MM.,  collect  the  "  Scaligerana  secun- 

da,"  i.,  260,  n. 

Vatable,  professor  of  Hebrew,  i.,  180. 
Vatican,  library  of  the,  i.,  410. 
Vaugelas,  M.  de,  remarks  on  the  French  language 

by,  ii.,  227,  402. 
Vaumonere,  de,  ii.,  236. 
Vaux,  Lord  Nicholas,  poet,  i.,  221,  344,  34.5. 
Vega,  Garcilasso  de  la,  i.,  219,  336. 
,  Lope  de,  Spanish  plays  of,  i.,  338,  n.,  361  ; 

ii.,  189.     His  fertility,  i.,  361.     Versification,  362. 

Popularity,  ib.      Comedy,    ib.      Tragedy,    363. 

Spiritual  plays  of,  364. 
Vegetable  productions,  on,  i.,  401. 
Vegius,  Maphaeus,  i.,  115,  383. 
Velasquez,  History  of  Spanish  Poetry  by,  i.,  339. 
Veldek,  Henry  of,  i.,  42. 
Velthuysen,  "  de  justi  et  decori,"  &c.,  ii.,  337. 
Venice,  contest  of  Pope  Paul  V.  with,  ii.,  26.     Re- 
public of,  135,  356,  357. 
Venus,  transit  of,  over  the  sun,  ii.,  251.    Phases  of, 

ib. 

Veracity,  ii.,  346. 

Verdier,  Bibliotheque  Francais  by,  i.,  387,  412. 
Vergara,  Greek  Grammar  of,  i.,  178,  252. 
Vertumen,  Francis,  i.,  260,  n. 
Vesalius,  "  de  corporis  humani  fabrics,"  i.,  238.    t 

anatomical  discoveries,  238,  403.    His  disgrace 

and  death,  239.     See  also  ii. ,  259. 
Vesputio  or  Vespucci,  Americo,  his  discoveries,  i., 

148. 
Vettori    Pietro,  edition  of  Ciceronis  opera  by,  i., 

176.    His  Greek  erudition,  177.     Variae  lectiones 

of,  246,  n.     Huet's  opinion  of,  246,  248. 
Viaud  or  Theophile,  poet,  ii.,  171. 
Vicente,  Gil,  dramas  of,  i.,  146,  227. 
Vico,  Eneas,  i.,  269,  410. 
Victor  Vitensis,  edition  by  Chiflet  of,  n.,  406. 
Victoria,  Francis  k,  Relectiones  theologicaj  of,  i., 

324. 

Victorin  of  Feltre,  i ,  65. 
Victorius,  Petrus.    See  Vettori. 
Vida  of  Cremona,   Latin  poet,  i.,  224;   11.,  -KW. 

"  Ars  poetica"  of,  i.,  383. 
Vidus  Vidius,  anatomist,  i.,  239,  404. 
Vieta  [Francis  VieteJ,  his  reputation  as  an  algebra- 


ist, i.,  235,  236,  392.    His  mathematit  il  works, 

;i.,  244.    His  algebra,  245. 
Vieussens,  his  Neurographia  Universalis,  ii.,  430. 
Vigeror  Vigerius,  de  Idiotisrnis,  ii.,  15. 
Vigilius  Tapsensis,  ii.,  406. 
Vigneul-Marville  or  M.  D'Argonne,  ii.,  402,  403,  a 

His  Melanges  de  Litterature,  409. 
Vignola,  his  Perspective,  i.,  397. 
Villedieu  or  Des  Jardins,  Madame,  ii.,  4J^. 
Villegas,  Manuel  Estevan  de,  ii.,  168. 
Villon,  French  poet,  i.,  122. 
Vincent  de  Beauvais,  i..  79. 
Vincentius  Linuensis,  ii.,  39,  n.,  43. 
Vinci,  Lionardo  da,  painter,  i.,  126,  127,  23*. 
Viner,  abridgment  of  law  by,  n.,366. 
Vinnius,  commentary  of,  i.,  321  ;  ii.,  341. 
Virgil,  Eclogues  of,  ii.,  372.     His  ^neid,  i.,  339, 

ii.,  373,  376,  406.     Continuation  by  Maphaeus,  i., 

115,  383.     Caro's  Italian  translation,  333.     His 

Georgics,  ii.,  381,  382.    Tasso  compared  with,  i., 

334,  335,  360.     Camoens  compared  with,  339 

See  also  382,  383  ;  ii.,  412. 
--  ,  Polydore,  i.,  133,  134. 
Visconti,  contributor  to  the  Biographic  Universelle, 

ii.,  277.  n. 

Vitelli,  Cornelio,  i.,  133. 
Vitello,  optics  of,  i.,  77,  234,  396. 
Vitiis  sermonis,  de,  treatise  by  G.  Vossius,  ii.,  21. 
Vives,  ethical  writings  of,  i.,  179,  210. 
Viviani,  solution  of  the  area  of  the  cycloid  by,  n., 

243,  420. 
Voet,  Gisbert,  Dissertationes  Theologicae  of,  ii.,  54. 

His  controversy  with  Descartes,  102. 
Voiture,  letters  of,  ii.,  89,  224,225.     Poetry  of,  171, 

401,  404,  n.,  410. 
Voltaire,  sarcasms  of,  ii.,  225.    Remarks  of,  i.,333, 

338;  ii.,  324,  327,  433.     His  poetry,  371.     His 

dramatic  works,  385,  399.     His  style,  401. 
Volkelius,  "  de  vera  Religione,"  ii  ,  44. 
Vondel,  Dutch  writer  of  tragedy,  ii.,  173,  174. 
Vossius,  Gerard,  philological  works,  &c.,  of,  i.,252, 

n.  ;  ii.,  19,  20,  &c.,  272.     "  Histona  Pelagiana" 

by,  43,  n 
----  ,  Isaac,  his  Catullus  and  Pomponius  Mela, 

n.,  '27-i.     Mis  "  Aristarchus,"  273. 
Voyages,  early  writers  of,  i.,  148,  212,  406  ;  ii.,266. 

English  voyages  of  discovery,  i.,  407  ;  ii.,  433. 

WACE,  poems  of,  i.,  41. 

Wakefield,  Rohf-rt,  lectures  at  Cambridge  by,  i.,  182. 

Waldis,  Burcard,  German  fabulist,  i., 

Waller,  liis  versification,  ii.,   181,  :i72,   378.      His 

panegyric  on  Cromwell,  373.    See  also  i,  391. 
Wallis,  his  "  H  istory  of  Algebra,"  ii  ,  245.    His  "  In- 

stitutio  Logica?,"  299.  420. 
Walpole,  Horace,  i.,  390.    Correspondence  of,  n., 

22.'),  401. 

Walton,  Isaac,  his  Complete  Angler,  ii.,  413. 
---  1  Brian,  Polyglott  of,  ii.,  431. 
War,  the  rights  of,  treatises  on,  i.,  325,  326  ;  ii  , 

136,  141,  144,  145,  152,  153,  154. 
Warburton,    Bishop,   ii.,  40.      His  comments  on 

Slmkspeare,  204.     Remarks  of,  291.  n.,  302. 
Warner,  his  "  Albion's  England,"  i.,  348. 
Warton,  Dr.,  on  the  French  versions  of  Latin  au- 

thors, i.,  61,  n.    Criticisms  of,  J23,  1C9,  170,  229, 

387;  il.   187. 

Wealth  of  nations,  ii.,  134,  363. 
Webbe,  his  Discourse  of  English  poetry,  i.,  264, 

__  l,his  travestie  of  the  Shepherd's  Kalendar,  i., 

350. 
Webster,  dramatist,  his  "  Duchess  of  Malfy,"  ii., 

217.     His  "  Vittoria  Corombona,"  218.    "  Appiut 

and  Virginia,"  ib. 
Weller's  Greek  erammar,  11.,  15. 
Wenceslas,  critique  on  Rotrou's,  ii.,  196. 


462 


INDEX 


Werder,  German  translator  of  Ariosto  and  Tasso, 

ii.,  172. 
Werner,  his  ancient  geometrical  analysis  restored, 

i.,  234. 

Wesley,  remark  by,  ii.,  67,  n. 
Wessel  of  Groningen,  i.,  109. 
Westminster  School,  Greek  taught  in,  i.,  183,  263. 
Whateley,  Archbishop,  his  Elements  of  Logic,  ii., 

87,  n.,  Ill,  n  ,  117,  n. 
Whetstone,  plays  by,  i.,  368. 
Whewell,  -Mr.,  remarks  of,  i.,  399,  n. 
Whichcot,  his  tenets,  ii.,  287, 288. 
Whitaker,  his  translation  of  Nowell,  &c.,  i.,  263. 
White,  Thomas  or  Albius,  ii.,  299. 
Whitgift,  his  Reply  to  Cartwright,  i.,  266.    The 

Lambeth  Articles  by,  ii.,  42. 
Wichffe,  John,  i.,  105. 
Wicquefort,  his  "  Ambassador,"  ii.,  366. 
Widmandstadt's  New  Testament  in  Syriac,  i.,  405. 
Wierus  "  de  praestighs,"  i.,  289. 
Wilkins  on  the  Principles  of  Natural  Religion,  ii., 

288.     On  a  "  Philosophical  Language,"  327, 400. 

His  "  Discovery  of  a  New  World  in  the  Moon," 

413.     See  also  420. 
William  of  Champeaux,  his  school  of  logic  at  Paris, 

i.,  31. 

,  duke  of  Guienne,  Troubadour,  i.,  39. 

HI.,  reign  of,  ii.,  362,  364,  380. 

Willis,  Dr.,  his  Anatomy  of  the  Brain,  ii.,  430. 

Theory  of,  431. 

Willoughby's  Natural  History,  i.,  401 ;  ii.,  423. 
W'llls,  alienation  of  property  by,  ii.,  147. 
Wilson's  Art  of  Logic,  i.,  229,  387.    His  Art  of 

Rhetoric,  380,  387. 

WimpfeHng,  reput%tion  of,  i.,  188,  244. 
Wmterton,  '•  Poets  Minores1'  of,  ii.,  16. 
Wit  and  fancy,  ii.,  115. 
Witchcraft,  books  against  the  punishment  for,  i., 

264,  266,  289. 

Wjttich,  his  works  of,  ii.,  306. 
Wither,  George,  poems  of,  ii.,  181. 
Wittenberg,  the  University  of,  i.,  157,  163,  298. 
Witton  School,  Cheshire,  statutes  of,  i.,  263. 
Wolf's  Euripides  in  great  estimation,  i.,  248.    His 

Demosthenes,  255,  n. 
Wolsey,  Cardinal,!.,  183.     , 
Wood,  Anthony,  his  enunasration  of  great  scholars 


whose  names  render  Oxford  illustrious,  i    32.  n 
182. 

Woodward  on  the  nutrition  of  plants,  ii.,  427.  Or 
geology,  429. 

World,  physical  theory  of  the,  i.,  293,  294. 

Wotton  on  Modern  and  Ancient  Learning,  ii.,  276, 
414. 

Wren,  Sir  Christopher,  ii.,  420,  430. 

Wright,  Edward,  mathematician,  i.,399.  On  Nav- 
igation, 408. 

Wursticius  or  Ursticius,  Christian,  i.,  395. 

Wyatt.  Sir  John,  poems  of,  i.,  221,  344.  His  epis- 
tle to  John  Poms,  222. 

Wycherley's  Plain  Dealer,  ii.,  397.  Country  Wife, 
ib. 

XAVIER,  St.  Francis,  i.,  196. 

Xenophon,  editions  and  \ersions  of,  i.,  245,  248. 

Ximenes,  Cardinal,  i.,  244,  410. 

Xylander,  i.,  304. 

ZAMOSCIUS,  de  Senatu  Romano,  i.,  267. 

Zarot,  printer  at  Milan,  i.,  99,  103,  128. 

Zanchius,  i.,  288. 

Zasius,  Ulric,  professor  at  Friburg,  led  the  way  to 
more  elegant  jurisprudence,  i.,  215. 

Zeno,  i.,  110;  ii.,  74. 

Zerbi  of  Verona,  his  work  on  "  Anatomy,"  i.,  148. 

Zeunius,  ii.,  15. 

Zodiacus  Vita;,  moral  poem  by  Manzolli,  i.,  194. 

Zoology,  writers  on,  i.,  240,  399 ;  ii.,  256,  423,  424 

Zoroaster,  ii.,  432. 

Zouch's  Elementa  Juris  Civilis,  ii.,  141. 

Zurich,  the  reformed  religion  taught  by  Zwingle  at, 
i,  164.  Anabaptists  condemned  at,  ib.,  n.,  and 
drowned  in  the  lake  of,  281.  Gesner's  botanical 
garden  at,  402. 

Zwingle  or  Zuinglius,  Reformer,  i.,  163.  His  ten 
ets  differed  from  Luther's,  188.  His  variance 
with  Erasmus,  191.  Character  of  his  writings, 
198.  Published  in  a  fictitious  name,  193.  His 
death,  191 ,  n.,  192,  255.  See  also  281. 

Zwoll,  College  of,  i.,  108. 

*»*  For  some  names  and  topics  unavoidably  omitted 
in  the  INDEX,  the  READER  is  requested  to  refer  to  tk» 
CONTENTS  of  each  VOLUME. 


THE    END. 


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